[ It takes her a moment, longer than she'd like to admit, to understand what he's referring to. Her fingers hover her sternum questioningly, and then fall away, returned to the drumsticks. Adjusting her grip she does with graceful ease, but the rest of it — ]
I'm afraid my heart was not made for music.
[ Just as Taryn's heart had not been in the steps of swordplay, running through as if it were a play to recite rather than the animal instinct Jude and Madoc share. Not for the first time, she wonders what that says of her — that music cannot make her heart sing the way that strategy and battle have, a type of creature that prefers the bloodthirsty cadence of blades clashing against one another.
In the end, it feels like too much like a confession wrapped in a typical turn of phrase. I'm afraid. No one needs to know how true that part of her statement really is. ]
no subject
I'm afraid my heart was not made for music.
[ Just as Taryn's heart had not been in the steps of swordplay, running through as if it were a play to recite rather than the animal instinct Jude and Madoc share. Not for the first time, she wonders what that says of her — that music cannot make her heart sing the way that strategy and battle have, a type of creature that prefers the bloodthirsty cadence of blades clashing against one another.
In the end, it feels like too much like a confession wrapped in a typical turn of phrase. I'm afraid. No one needs to know how true that part of her statement really is. ]