The First Step

Denskith was so enveloped by the sight of the keys-- well, his own thoughts, but 'sight of the keys' was farther from the truth and more poetic-sounding-- that the student's hug came as a complete surprise. Her fur brushed against his scarred flesh, irritating the skin but not enough to ruin the moment . . . to ruin this. Why was she hugging him? Had he helped that much, or--? Not that the reason mattered too much right now; just being embraced like this . . . It felt nice. He felt at peace.

Of course, then Audi spoke-- and there was reason, and doubt, and it all came flooding back. That precious moment of peace had been lost.

Being comfortable in his own skin-- having his own words being ricocheted back to him-- but, he had tried, so the sentence was invalid, right? RIGHT? He admittingly had not 'tried' that hard-- got used to the powers, the height, but never comfortable. And now, here was a student asking him to try again. How could he ever succeed when he . . . when he was still in denial about this? when he was still fighting it? How could he succeed when he was doomed for failure?

. . . But, he couldn't admit that, never to a student of all people-- rats-- monsters. And so, the teacher lied in the hug, warmly accepting the gesture. Slight tears filled his eyes despite all efforts, but hopefully nothing too noticeable. Hopefully.

Hugging him this close, she could feel his mood change when she spoke, but she did not regret saying it. He needed it, just like he needed the hug, it seemed. Poor man. She did not understand why did he think he did not fit in, but she knew that he could if he tried. Yes. Just like she could. He was human enough, she was... different, but could change. And that hopeful feeling that now fluttered in her heart she tried to pass on through the warm embrace.

Finally, she let go slowly, stroking his head of blond hair as she took a step back. He gaze flickered over his face and his slightly moist eyes - but ratfolk did not cry like humans did, so it meant nothing to her. He looked miserable anyway, though. Audi folded her hands in her lap.
"Thank you." she said. A quiet giggle escaped her as she realized that she'd just had a moderately successful conversation. Maybe that was a good first step on her road to humanity... How could she help Denskith in return, though? She hummed in thought. Well, the best she could do was encourage him, she supposed. She would not come with anything better than he could, surely.
"I think you can do it." she said, giving him a wide smile and that kind of a look one gives somebody they have unequivocal faith in.

And then, the embrace was over. How sad.
Denskith was alarmed when the student saw the tears but thankful that she did not comment. He wiped the residue from his eyes as Audi thanked him for no apparent reason. He should be thanking her, of all things. And yet, it was reversed. Why?

"I don't think I did anything," the teacher admitted. His fingers trailed over the keys once more but dared not to press a single note. "But . . . thank you for your thank you." He couldn't think of anything else to say, continuing on his tracing of the piano's ridges. Even with her encouragement . . . he remained silent.

He didn't think he could do it; as the Resistance leader put so fittingly, "The worst restraints are our own states of mind." He couldn't do it. He already knew. There was no chance.

(( Apologies for the delay. > <; ))

Her smile slowly fell. How confusing this man was! She could tell that it wasn't just modesty speaking, he honestly didn't think he did anything... and now he looked sad. Why, she had no clue.

"You helped me." she said with a pout.

Causing an ugly chord, she stepped on the keyboard, then clambered on top of the piano. She crawled over to the front of Denskith, then swung her legs down and rested her elbows on her knees, placing her face in her palms.

"What's wrong?" she asked, big eyes peering intently at the man, as if she was trying to read barely legible writing.

The sweet words were ruined by the heart-wrenching cord-- a literal heart-wrenching, not the sympathetic kind. The kind that made one want to rip out their own heart just to make the keys stop from reaching the ears. The teacher flinched visibly at the tone but could only stare in horror at the student's chosen seat: the small ledge of the piano between the keys and their workings. If she fell, there would be no repairing the damage.

What was wrong? What was wrong was her perilous location! Denskith knew that wasn't what she meant, but his eyes remained glued on her, eyes wide. His horror only increased with the persisting of her words. They were done with this conversation, weren't they? She should just let it drop-- but not on the wires, oh, no . . .

It took a good minute for him to form a proper sentence.
"I've tried," he strained out. Maybe if he said something instead of remaining silent, she would let it go. Please, just let it go. "Tried, and failed."

She watched him curiously, completely oblivious to the reason of his distress, balanced comfortably on the edge. Her tail was trailing around her and slithering down to the keyboard, and as it's tip flicked, a single note was played. After he answered, she remained silent for a moment, her gaze examining Denskith's face.

Well, he probably had some other reasons. But from Audi's point of view, when you failed at something, you tried again, and again, until your knuckles bled and muscles ached, the heart could be heavy but spirit remained high as long as there was a goal to be working towards. That's what she'd been taught and shown ever since she was a pup. You either did what you were supposed to, or you died trying. That was the most noble sort of death.

She let out an impatient huff through her nose, straightening out her back and crossing her arms to give Denskith an unimpressed look, all respect for authority forgotten in favor of her irritation. She thought he was awesome, why would he not think so about himself too? That was ridiculous.

The ratgirl narrowed her eyes. "You should try again."

Audi's huff made Denskith flinch visibly-- okay, stop that, only he really noticed those things. Flinching in Windor was a scream for lynching; it showed weakness, vulnerability. No one could erase those innate traits completely, but they could be buried, only to surface when under the company of friends and allies. Audi was acting like neither-- he felt attacked. He knew her intentions were good, knew that she was just trying to help, but really, he didn't want the 'help.' Not that it was misplaced, just . . . unwanted. Unwelcomed.

He tried to take a deep breath in, a vain attempt for gathering his nerves. Focus on the note: a nice, clear C, the key still ringing throughout the music room. C was a nice note to start any song on.

The teacher needed to calm down. Getting emotional in front of a student, whether it be by rage or sadness, was never a good thing. He had already made that mistake in both fields.

The exhale of his held breath.
"No, thank you." He remained steadfast. He didn't want to get used to the serum, didn't want to touch it. The powers had cost him so much grief already-- why give them a second chance to ruin everything?

Right. So he outright refused and disagreed. Audi's crossed arms slowly slid to her sides, but her stern expression didn't fall just yet, her forehead crinkling in thought. She felt conflicted, honestly. A part of her squeaked and waved its arms screaming that he was definitely right, being simply and irrevocably superior to her... but there was also a new, strange voice, one that calmly reminded her that she was supposed to start trying to fit in. Fit in with humans. And humans didn't simply agree with each other, oh no, they squabbled and babbled and whined on hours on end in defense of their opinions.

She wasn't about to start talking more; she wasn't that crazy yet. But if she just defected to him without putting up any kind of a fight, well... would that not be going against his lesson? In fact, she was pretty convinced it was... a test. Yes. He was testing her.

Figuring that out took her a few seconds, during which an uncomfortable silence began to creep in between them. Audi shook her head energetically, as if that could help chase it away, and gave Denskith a sharp look.

"Why not?"

She remained steadfast, too.
Denskith's eyes focused on Audi's, his usual passiveness all but fading away. It was a battle-- a battle of the will, not of the usual body. A battle could never be forfeited, no matter how tempting it was. Windor had drilled that into his skull well. Thus, he did not budge, did not turn away when the rat girl's eyes sharpened. The teacher stared down the blade and to its wielder.

She wanted to know 'why'? Rage began to boil inside him-- but, he couldn't allow that; he had to be calm, had to be reasonable. Rage was not reasonable, it was deadly. He had to be calm. CALM. Focus on the lingering, now imaginary, note.

Denskith had forgotten Audi as a student; she was merely the placeholder for the argument. He wasn't fighting her but rather her message.

"Because its wrong." The words rang of the truth more than the teacher would have liked-- but, too late now. They were the truth, though and through. The serum was wrong; it shouldn't exist, they shouldn't exist, and him accepting such a thing would simply spit on the memory of normalcy. It was cruel, wrong-- "--Unnatural. All too unnatural."

That was far from the answer she expected - although, she wasn't even sure what did she expect. Trying to feel comfortable in your own skin being wrong and unnatural was something she couldn't quite wrap her mind around, and it showed in the way her serious expression changed into that of confusion.

All of a sudden, Audi felt self-conscious. Here she was, staring down a teacher, directly opposing what he had just said, without any clue as to why his valuable lesson didn't apply to himself. It was a bit much. She simply wasn't ready to tackle an argument like that.

But one day, she would be. And she would help him see the truth.

With that thought, Audi leaned in forward, close to Denskith's face, looked straight into his eyes and shook her head.
"No." she said pointedly, then quickly slipped down from the piano, her feet landing on the keyboard with a "da-dum". Jumping down to the floor, she gave him a sidelong, meek glance, smiled to him one last time and then scampered to the door. She got what she came there for - an answer from somebody who knew better than her - and she couldn't feel more elated. It deserved a feast in celebration, truly, and with that in mind she made her way skipping to the kitchens.

'No.' That was that, then. Denskith stared unblinking at the rat girl-- student-- she was a rat girl, most likely a rat girl from birth. Lucky her. She could say such things and have it not apply to her. He didn't look back, however, when the girl made the lovely 'da-dum' with her feet (in-key, at that-- how wonderful, despite all things) or when she smiled; he never caught it. The teacher merely continued to stare at the top of the grand piano, as if Audi was still there . . .

Right. Music.
Music solved everything.

Denskith hurriedly sat down on the piano stool, stretched his fingers, and began to play, at first methodogically and slowly, but then picking up the pace, faster and faster. Running. His fingers were running, up and down scales, through the discords and the off-beats . . . until the man could stand it no longer and began to weep silently.

Unnatural.
Everything he was was unnatural.