[Spoiler alert: it's not fine by him, not at all, because Felix, while prickly and pouty and acerbic in nearly every possible way on the outside, is actually rather sensitive at times, depending on where the critique is coming from. Not many people on that admittedly short list -- thank the goddess -- to possibly include one very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, and he's keen on keeping it that way.]
And just so you know: I won't play this again, so don't ask me.
[With that as his only warning, Felix picks up the bow and, after envisioning himself alone in his room at night as he often did while in practice, he begins to play.
The lullaby isn't a complex piece by any means, which makes all sorts of sense since it's an old song intended to help children relax and fall asleep. Felix had heard it plenty of times during his own childhood, so now it's just a matter of remembering to hit the right notes and not drag anything out too long, lest he wants things to take a melancholy turn.
Well, more melancholy than they already are.
The urge to speed things along and hurry through the entirety of the song is urgent but Felix likens it to swordsmanship practice: haste makes waste, best to just breathe easy and take it slowly, one step -- or note -- at a time; if you fumble, just continue on with the routine.
Felix doesn't fumble, although once or twice, his speed threatens to get ahead of him. He manages to reel it in, clenched chin digging into the cloth of the rest with mild frustration each time, and to his own immediate surprise, he gets through the entire lullaby without issue.
When he's done, he drops the bow onto the bed beside him.]
no subject
[Spoiler alert: it's not fine by him, not at all, because Felix, while prickly and pouty and acerbic in nearly every possible way on the outside, is actually rather sensitive at times, depending on where the critique is coming from. Not many people on that admittedly short list -- thank the goddess -- to possibly include one very demanding and entitled kind of Duke, and he's keen on keeping it that way.]
And just so you know: I won't play this again, so don't ask me.
[With that as his only warning, Felix picks up the bow and, after envisioning himself alone in his room at night as he often did while in practice, he begins to play.
The lullaby isn't a complex piece by any means, which makes all sorts of sense since it's an old song intended to help children relax and fall asleep. Felix had heard it plenty of times during his own childhood, so now it's just a matter of remembering to hit the right notes and not drag anything out too long, lest he wants things to take a melancholy turn.
Well, more melancholy than they already are.
The urge to speed things along and hurry through the entirety of the song is urgent but Felix likens it to swordsmanship practice: haste makes waste, best to just breathe easy and take it slowly, one step -- or note -- at a time; if you fumble, just continue on with the routine.
Felix doesn't fumble, although once or twice, his speed threatens to get ahead of him. He manages to reel it in, clenched chin digging into the cloth of the rest with mild frustration each time, and to his own immediate surprise, he gets through the entire lullaby without issue.
When he's done, he drops the bow onto the bed beside him.]