𝐌𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐱 𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐪

𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

It was odd for Annalise to be standing in her old bedroom. She looked and felt out of place, standing there without her uniform on. She glanced down at her dress; it was black, fitting for the occasion, but she probably should've chosen a dress that wasn't as poofy.

Thinking back now, she probably always looks out of place, seeing as she doesn't even dress in the same century. Vanya had never had an issue with it, after they left the academy they both found their own style and way of life. Annalise had always been infatuated with the 19th century. The 1800s was, in her opinion, the most elegant of all time. The Romantic Era had her favorite pieces and composers: Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Liszt, Paganini, and so many more. But her all-time favorite would be the fashion, specifically Paris fashion.

She'd had pictures tacked to her wall of the most extravagant dresses from the past, even to this day it seemed. Annalise stepped closer to the wall, her hand coming to trace the edge of one of the pages. The women were always to be in their best condition, always looking their best and they always were. There were times when Annalise would daydream about being in fancy dresses, living in the past. So after she left the Academy, she worked her hardest to get as close as she can to that dream in this day and age. She put all her energy into the ensemble or making her own pieces, yet she still hasn't let anyone hear them(other than Vanya).

Annalise's eyes scan over the room, not one speck of dust, thanks to her Maman, of course. The desk where she had spent hours working on her pieces was clear, she always had pages and pages of sheet music strewn across it. Across the room, was her record player. She had a box stuffed full of vinyls, but none of the pop jams Luther and her siblings had accumulated over time; no, these were records of her favorite compositions, and most of the records she had she could pull out the sheet music to play along with it.

Annalise was going over the records when she reached one that was stuck permanently in her mind. She had found an album that had violin and piano duets, not an ensemble, not a band, just the two beautiful instruments making beautiful music together. She vividly remembers frantically showing Vanya the album, "We have to do these songs together! Vanya! We could make belle musique! It sounds absolutely magnifique! Let's listen to the album together!" Annalise smiles as she places the old, overplayed record back into the box and slides it back underneath her bed.

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The girl travels on to another room, her practice room. She drifts around the room, procrastinating the inevitable. The second she sits down at the piano, she'll get sucked into playing, so instead, she takes in the beauty of her old memories. This room was her safe place, her emotional outlet. Her dilemmas became notes, her turmoil became melodies and her feelings became music you could hear floating throughout the academy.

"La musique est l'expression de l'inexprimable," she quotes while she looks out the window. She was so accustomed to these windows filling the room with light, she forgot about the days where it was dreary and she had to use candlelight (because lightbulbs make the room too stale, in her opinion). Annalise goes back to her room for the long-lasting candles and matches she hid in her desk and quietly sets them up around the room. She only used about five, she'd learned her lesson when she'd filled the room with nearly five times the amount and set off the fire alarms. What a stressful day that was for poor Pogo.

Annalise places herself softly on the piano bench. Her hands lift the key cover and her fingers graze the ivorite keys. She stares at her small hands and ponders over all the things she could possibly play right now, her feelings were a mess due to coming home and facing her dysfunctional family, her thoughts were in chaos. Her memories of Five had resurfaced after years of being locked in the back of her mind, as well as the punishments she had gone through after his disappearance, and facing her adult siblings was quite a punch to the gut, reminding her once again of her inability to grow. Annalise stands from the bench and starts digging through the boxes of sheet music she had stacked against the opposite wall, looking for a special piece, Paul de Senneville's Mariage d'amour.