Snippet #1044464

The moon was still high in the sky and the trio had finally arrived at their destination, and Taro, with awe clearly plastered all over his face, immediately felt out of place, just standing out side the gigantic double doors of the ‘palace’. It was more of a huge skyscraper, a rough estimate of the floor count was easily in the greater 500’s. The traveler felt a bit of pity for the window washers, they must have had one hell of a job. Sayako, young Jenga’s caretaker stepped in front of them, waving her arm in a grand motion towards the double doors, an invigorated smile wide on her face.

“Young Master Jenga, welcome home.” She bowed respectfully to the child as the doors slowly opened to greet them. Several well dressed attendants, both male and female, ran towards the Young Master, showering him with warm greetings and praise and comments about how big he had gotten, all of this only served to fluster the child and turn his face a beat red. Taro laughed at him as he got swept away into his new home, probably to meet his father and mother for the first time.

“Heheh, did you get a look at his face Sayako…?” Taro looked around the area, it looked like he was the only person left, Sayako must have gotten swept along with everyone else. “Guess I didn’t get the memo…” He sighed, well he did get invited by the heir himself, so it must have been okay to waltz on in—however, just as he began to take a step inside, a new figure appeared to greet him. The small old man came from apparently the gardens to the left of him, with a very eccentric gaze about him, he sort of glided over to Taro.

“You must be Master Murakami…welcome Iori Place my good man.” He was hunched over, which made him look a lot shorter than he was, his pale head was bald, save for a few small white strands on the sides. His nose, extremely elongated, it was like a bird’s beak, his black eyes tiny a beady, covered by a pair of circular specs. He was dressed similar to all of the other workers, a clean black suit and brown loafers. Aside from all of this, there was one thing in particular that struck Taro as different about the fellow—his ears, they were pointed.

Alistair Approaches

“I realize my appearance may strike you as odd…’an elf? Here?’” The attendant chuckled amused by his impression, “Sayako sends her apologizes about not being able to accompany you inside, it appears that she rather leave the dirty work to me, how charming.” He shrugged,

“Oh, my name is Alistair, by the way. Come, follow me inside…you came to firefly on business, did you not?” The man began a hurried walk into the golden skyscraper, not looking back at the one he was supposed to be leading at all.

Taro’s face scrunched up at the strange old man’s behavior, but he got the feeling that he was one of those types that rather show you than tell you. He was one of those types himself, so, rather than ask questions, he followed the man inside.

· * *

He gave Taro a basic tour, the lobby, his floor where his room would be, where Jenga and his parents room were, and then, Alistair and Taro finally arrived at a peculiar little room. A study, shelves of books lined the walls, a trio of chandeliers hung in a triangle above a large, extravagant black piano. At this, Alistair walked over, and ran his hand along each of the keys creating a distorted sound.

“Sayako tells me that you’ve had yourself quite the interaction with that idol, what’s her name?—“

“Calliope.” Taro answered abruptly. Sighing he walked over to the instrument as well, admiring its make. “It was only a conversation, nothing too interesting. Although I did invite her to a good time.” He shrugged, he meant good time in the most innocent sense if any of you were wondering. At this, Alistair looked at him very suspiciously, almost as if he were evaluating Taro.

“Oh really now?” Was all the old man said before breaking his gaze with the young man. “Master Murakami…are you aware of the Neesha?” Alistair asked him, turning to the wall of books behind them.

“When you travel as much as I do…you can’t help but run into a few. Why ask?” Taro was quickly growing wary of the old man’s cryptic behavior.

“No reason, as of now. Tell me, you took quite the interest in the singer…how do you fare in the musical department yourself Master Murakami?” He spoke to Taro, but he was really gazing hard at the piano, touching a few keys softly as he did.

“I dabble…my mother wouldn’t have it that her own son had no musical talent. She loved it, taught me a bit of every instrument.” He laughed a bit at the memories of his practice, he was all thumbs when he first started.

“Ah, you don’t say…your mother must have been quite the scholar. Do you think you could show me a bit of your practice on this instrument here?” He gestured to the piano in front of them, almost with a challenging air. Taro frowned.

Aria of the Soul, Piano- Taro’s Piece

“I’m really more of a strings man…but,” He looked at Alistair’s face, which was urging him to sit at the instrument. The white haired fellow sighed, “Fine…fine…” And so, Taro sat at the piano, like magic, a melancholy, ominous melody flowed from his fingertips, the notes overtook the piano, every inch of it was under his control now. When he said he only ‘dabbled’ in the musical craft, surely he was bluffing, because what he was doing now was nothing short of masterful.



At the moment his aria came to a close, there was a soft ‘click’ from the direction of the bookshelf.

“Hmhm, amazing that you knew just the right melody to play, Master Murakami.” Alistair teased, and just then, the entirety of the shelves on the wall in front of them slid open, revealing a long pair of ebony double doors.