Fortissimo

Fortissimo

--

Allegrezza; cheerfulness, joyfulness

She was so hyped for this, like oh my god, full rehearsal was literally at their doorstep, and this was their last instrumentalist – only practice.

This was going to be beautiful.

Playing through Bows to round up their last rehearsal, Ari was left breathless, and her desk parter teased her for inhaling too much resin. She was really grateful towards Nerida, despite her constant jabs for her supposed aggression, (read; passion) for music. She was only at this combined musical because of her enthusiastic persistance for her to join. She usually wouldn’t participate in such frivolities, but at her friend's deliberately saved and well timed puppy eyes, Ari had lost, and wasn’t really regretting it.

Their conductor winked and bid them good night, and Ari received several ‘Cheers!’ and pats on the back on her way out, her cello weightless over her back.

This play was going to be perfect.

--

Libero; freely

Her wings were music.

She’d left the womb humming. As a child, she remembered tapping rhythms instead of crying and replicating the 80’s tunes that her father had loved so much on the little harmonica that she’d be entrusted to at birth. She had been playing scales since forever, and when she pitched a melody perfectly on the ivory keys, her lungs had been full and her mind open.

--

Furia; furiously

The first full rehearsal was a disaster.

Their lead hadn’t learn any of her parts off by heart, and could never remember her note. Her quality of voice was amazing, Ari could graciously grant that, but to be such an irresponsible lead, was probably not the wisest choice. Performance night was months away, fine, but music didn’t happen over night.

Not being able to help her blown up cheeks and furrowed brow, Nerida tried to soothe Ari’s tantrum as Miss raised her hand to stop, halting everything as the lead continued to sing on. Moments of silence lead to her realising her absolute solo and she blushed heavily under her freckles, turning back to the conductor, whose ever lasting stretch of patience seemed to be waning.

Watching the poor girl get grilled didn’t really do anything to assist the fading of anger, and Ari couldn’t stop a growl in the back of her throat. It wasn’t even nine am yet, it was a Saturday morning, she could be sleeping.

The rest of the cast weren’t even there yet, just the leads. They’d come around break—for another very possibly gruelling hours.  They ran through more of the pieces, and Ari found that the only thing that was appeasing her was when the orchestra were playing backing music.

When break came around, she took the opportunity to retune and work out the small cramp below her shoulder. Nerida had run off with some other boy, and the rest of the orchestra was seemingly older than her own fifteen years. With none of her friends in the production, she exhaled slightly irritated, slightly relieved and slightly appreciative for the break. She gently laid her cello on its side, stroking the resin from its strings, before making off for her water bottle in the corner. A few punctual members of the cast had started filing in, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the beautiful instruments without their players, laid for display. They took their seats away on stage, chatting up that one lead who couldn’t keep in either time or tune.