[and Salieri will join him, picking up the line that normally the zither would fill in. Less than a week ago, it was Sissi that was playing this, delicate fingers plucking the strings of her instrument with an impressive, light touch. There's something in his chest that clenches and throbs with pained nostalgia, and Salieri's eyes sting as he guides the violin through the accompanying, harmonic line.
Sissi had been so excited to play, and Salieri had been so happy to have her there. She was such a kind, bright, lovely woman and he suddenly feels her loss even more keenly in this moment, remembering the cups of tea and the conversations; her concern and care for him and for others.
He swallows hard against a tight throat, and keeps playing]
no subject
Sissi had been so excited to play, and Salieri had been so happy to have her there. She was such a kind, bright, lovely woman and he suddenly feels her loss even more keenly in this moment, remembering the cups of tea and the conversations; her concern and care for him and for others.
He swallows hard against a tight throat, and keeps playing]