Pratice
The second in a four-part cello-commission-inspired story! Yay!
Second story was inspired by a tush commission (http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6963593). Make sure to give him props! Enjoy part two.
Inspired by: http://www.sofurry.com/view/503008
TJ walked back to the spartan room with his glass of water. Sipping on the drink, he glimpsed himself in the mirror behind his stool; same white spots he's had since his youth, same tan fur. He gave a small, breathy chuckle into his glass, as he thought about the last time he played naked. Still in the tail end of afterglow, him and his audience of one...
With the glass almost empty, he set it on the hardwood floor beside his cello and sat down. A good month of practice had brought him a long way - probably about how good he was in high school, though he knew that wasn't saying much. He picked up his cello and checked his posture; bow on his knee, vertical, knees gently grasping the cello's sides, back straight and shoulders back, tuning peg just behind the left side of his head.
With a nod to himself he gently placed the bow on the D string and pulled back. The first eight notes of the piece were long and low, setting up for the violins. He smiled as he tapped his toe, remembering how boring this piece was in high school. Opening his eyes, he checked the tuner on the floor by his sheet music and saw green lights as he hit the notes. Good, he thought.
Note seven, breath, and here we go.
Opening his eyes a little, he concentrated on the flow of the notes, from long quarter-notes to shorter eighth-notes, to the fast sixteenth- and thirty-second-notes. Left paw in fifth position, the Rat's fingers moved quickly over the string. He smiled a little to himself and cringed, hearing the still-out-of-tune notes coming from his cello.
He took a breath and stopped. Slow it down, and try again.
Staying in fifth-position, TJ played the notes again, listening for the sour sounds, and watching the tuner. Moving his fingers millimeters at a time to get the green light, he checked his tuning and played the section again.
And again.
"Practice makes permanent," he whispered with a smile.
In the back of his mind was the thought of the wedding only three months away. This was his "wife's" request, and he wanted her to be happy. He wanted them to be happy.
As these thoughts came to mind, he sighed.
"Can't change the past..." He sighed one more time before setting down the cello and picked up his water. Draining it, he stood and stretched back with a groan.
"Fill my glass, then more Canon."
He walked out of the room leaving the cello alone on its side.