[once again, Salieri goes still as the Balladeer starts talking, and he turns slowly to look at him, watching him explain.
Salieri's been complimented before, of course. On his music, mostly, and his performances. Flattered by those both above him (wishing to seem magnanimous,) those on the same level (wanting to seem friendly while preparing to stab him in the back,) and those below him (wishing to curry favor.) At first, most of them seemed earnest, but in time he had come to learn that Court and the musical world that surrounded it were very much a game of words, cleverness, and manipulation. There’s an instinct in him now to look for duplicity in any compliment longer than a word or two, and this is...certainly more than that.
However...it’s not just a compliment, is it? It’s an explanation of emotions, of feelings built on shared experiences, of bridges built and friendships forged a time of duress. He’d had the thought not a few days ago, when speaking to Varian after the trial, that this group of people were the closest he’d felt to others in quite some time and now, as he listens to the Balladeer explain, that emotion comes back to him, a warmth sitting in his chest just under his sternum. It quiets that music in his head, the Balladeer’s words bringing him back to the here, the now.
There are people here that care about him and, more importantly, depend on him. He cannot allow himself to be tied down by these memories; not right now.
He still fears that future: the one where he falls into obscurity while that cretin’s name rises to heights even Salieri can’t imagine. But...for now, he can quiet it. Silence it for a while and focus on those who need him]
1/2
Salieri's been complimented before, of course. On his music, mostly, and his performances. Flattered by those both above him (wishing to seem magnanimous,) those on the same level (wanting to seem friendly while preparing to stab him in the back,) and those below him (wishing to curry favor.) At first, most of them seemed earnest, but in time he had come to learn that Court and the musical world that surrounded it were very much a game of words, cleverness, and manipulation. There’s an instinct in him now to look for duplicity in any compliment longer than a word or two, and this is...certainly more than that.
However...it’s not just a compliment, is it? It’s an explanation of emotions, of feelings built on shared experiences, of bridges built and friendships forged a time of duress. He’d had the thought not a few days ago, when speaking to Varian after the trial, that this group of people were the closest he’d felt to others in quite some time and now, as he listens to the Balladeer explain, that emotion comes back to him, a warmth sitting in his chest just under his sternum. It quiets that music in his head, the Balladeer’s words bringing him back to the here, the now.
There are people here that care about him and, more importantly, depend on him. He cannot allow himself to be tied down by these memories; not right now.
He still fears that future: the one where he falls into obscurity while that cretin’s name rises to heights even Salieri can’t imagine. But...for now, he can quiet it. Silence it for a while and focus on those who need him]