Post by Russia on Mar 27, 2014 12:55:28 GMT -6
Sometimes, just sometimes, one comes upon things in the Manor that might make them forget all of its malevolence and its monsters. That is what Russia would think, anyway, for the physical horrors within and outside of the extravagant place did not intimidate him - and he wondered at times whether anyone stopped to question what had become of the Baudeau Manor before its darker demise.
He could never find that out about others if he hadn't yet found permanent company, of course. Everyone he found would seem to depart in any a warped, abrupt manner - and as if the shadows themselves were bent on disrupting reunions and slithering the nations back into isolation, he often never found those people again. The psychological and emotional traumas that America's estate had to offer were a different matter than monsters and shadows, but Ivan discovered his ways around them. Pleasant thoughts were what always kept the loneliness at bay, no matter where he was.
There were some rooms in the Manor that Ivan felt sorry for. The music room was a new addition to that. It did not bear as much sorrowful significance to him as the ballroom had, but he still felt it - a sorriness that its fate, like most other precious places he knew of (and much better than this one), was abandonment. Its potential to stir beautiful music from all of its instruments lay silent, collecting dust with the shelves. It was not warm fingers that touched upon the instruments and the stretch of keys on the piano, but listless cobwebs and dust. As in all the other rooms, little light filtered in through here - but it was still clear to see the array of familiar colors that stood out among others.
He could hardly play any of these, save for what was likely the room's most proud inhabitant; the piano. But that didn't matter. Just looking at any of the instruments, he could recall their sound and then the faint resonance that they made in the back of his head. It only made him wish he could see the place as it had intended to be, alive and attractive to anyone that came to visit - for that also made him remember a time he wished he could return to. Ages and ages ago, far before any Manor had him within reach.
But he could not let himself become too far off track. It wasn't as if he had anything pressing to do, though. Finding people, staying alive, finding an exit - those were all high on everyone's list of things to do. Yet the nations had been here for so long without quite achieving all of that, it seemed. There was no harm in wandering, soaking in the sights of the place and what it could have been. Solitary venturing was not too unfamiliar to Ivan in the first place - not even in buildings that were intimidating and haunting to most others.
Ivan already took notice of the paper sheets lying with their respective instruments, looking archaic in their discolored and untouched appearances. Naturally, the hulking piano had lured the man to the right corner of the room. He could see the few webs that climbed and wound around its black legs. There had to have been a few people who had found this before he did. Having rested a curious finger upon one of the white keys toward the middle, he nearly startled at the clear sound it made. Noise like that felt rare to hear among the silence that resided here. It was terribly tempting, filling his head with relaxing vibes and promises to chase away any other nuisance.
He could never find that out about others if he hadn't yet found permanent company, of course. Everyone he found would seem to depart in any a warped, abrupt manner - and as if the shadows themselves were bent on disrupting reunions and slithering the nations back into isolation, he often never found those people again. The psychological and emotional traumas that America's estate had to offer were a different matter than monsters and shadows, but Ivan discovered his ways around them. Pleasant thoughts were what always kept the loneliness at bay, no matter where he was.
There were some rooms in the Manor that Ivan felt sorry for. The music room was a new addition to that. It did not bear as much sorrowful significance to him as the ballroom had, but he still felt it - a sorriness that its fate, like most other precious places he knew of (and much better than this one), was abandonment. Its potential to stir beautiful music from all of its instruments lay silent, collecting dust with the shelves. It was not warm fingers that touched upon the instruments and the stretch of keys on the piano, but listless cobwebs and dust. As in all the other rooms, little light filtered in through here - but it was still clear to see the array of familiar colors that stood out among others.
He could hardly play any of these, save for what was likely the room's most proud inhabitant; the piano. But that didn't matter. Just looking at any of the instruments, he could recall their sound and then the faint resonance that they made in the back of his head. It only made him wish he could see the place as it had intended to be, alive and attractive to anyone that came to visit - for that also made him remember a time he wished he could return to. Ages and ages ago, far before any Manor had him within reach.
But he could not let himself become too far off track. It wasn't as if he had anything pressing to do, though. Finding people, staying alive, finding an exit - those were all high on everyone's list of things to do. Yet the nations had been here for so long without quite achieving all of that, it seemed. There was no harm in wandering, soaking in the sights of the place and what it could have been. Solitary venturing was not too unfamiliar to Ivan in the first place - not even in buildings that were intimidating and haunting to most others.
Ivan already took notice of the paper sheets lying with their respective instruments, looking archaic in their discolored and untouched appearances. Naturally, the hulking piano had lured the man to the right corner of the room. He could see the few webs that climbed and wound around its black legs. There had to have been a few people who had found this before he did. Having rested a curious finger upon one of the white keys toward the middle, he nearly startled at the clear sound it made. Noise like that felt rare to hear among the silence that resided here. It was terribly tempting, filling his head with relaxing vibes and promises to chase away any other nuisance.