ad libitum

Every time Glimmer wants to complain about her brother dating her girlfriend's flute mentor, she flexes her fingers tighter around the join of the fingerboard to the pegbox (it's only ever so funny to call it the nut) and reminds herself that it has nothing to do with her; that getting riled up about a simple coincidence is childish and baseless. It doesn't mean anything! It couldn't possibly matter less.

Is what she thinks when she's in orchestra, without Crys around and with Shimmer far on the other side of the ensemble managing the chimes, or the bass drum, or the suspended cymbal, or whatever it is he does. Because of course he's a percussionist and not a real musician who has to fight for intonation and color and a presentable concentration face.

Glimimer'd never say that to another percussionist, because she doesn't believe it about any other percussionist. And she loves her brother, too. He's damn good at his job, even if she considers it an easier route than a stringed instrument or a woodwind. It's just that this one thing he does pisses her off...

An eerie, cooing whistle sounds from the wings. Yep. There it is.

Zeke frowns, jerks up from the score as if a string had been yanked out of the back of his neck. He makes a reproachful face at Miyabi, who shrinks in her seat, clutching her flute tighter.

Since Crys doesn't play in any community groups, only chamber ensembles, he's not here to be the target of Zeke's ire. Maestro Von Genbu knows who Miyabi goes to for advice and a critical ear. Usually, he's thrilled about it. He respects Alvis's musicianship greatly and has hired him (for pay and for gratis) many a time. But this whistling bit has got to stop!

Do the other players deduce that Zeke isn't willing to reprimand his daughter in front of the rest? Or would he extend that sort of courtesy to anyone who toed out of line? No one wants to find out.

Glimmer can hear Shimmer's telltale giggle from anywhere, no matter their proximity. It's not a question of if he'll pull this trick, it's when. What Glimmer should do is just tell Miyabi, or even better (worse), defend her girlfriend's honor from the disrespect of miscreants, but then she'd be admitting to Shimmer that she'll stoop to snitching, instead of taking it like a soldier, a veteran of the childhood prank wars.

She and Shimmer just don't fight. Never have. He and Mio have disagreements that scale a little larger each time, and Glimmer's grown apart from her sister somewhat as they advanced into high school and went their separate ways with friend groups and extracurriculars, but Glim and Shim are best friends forever. Destined to be. Doomed to it.

So maybe if she can just get to Crys...

But that would require dropping in on a flute lesson or a gaming session (Crys had a secret passion for rhythm games), and Glimmer found herself highly allergic to the thought of traipsing around like she had nothing better to do than that.

So what, then? Learn to mimic the chimes or the triangle with her mouth or her cello, and see what Zeke has to say about it then? Turnabout's fair play, and all.

But then she'd be the one causing a disturbance, and two rotten rowdies would do more than just make the rest of the musicians titter at a tiny timewaste. God, Glimmer has more respect for Miyabi's dad than that. Obviously.

(Obviously?)

Aha - softer solution. She can just tell Zeke what's up, and remind him that Shimmer's a great player with a terrific dedication to his array of instruments, so don't hold it against him, 'kay? Or Miyabi or Crys either.

Then Glimmer looks reponsible and mediatory. Miyabi sees an end of torment. Shimmer ceases to get a rise out of the director. Crys retains a stellar track record of mentees, since Mio's boyfriend is also one and he's twice as compulsed as Miyabi.

It's a perfect plan, even if it is a little too goody-two-shoes. She'll be sad to see the bit go, honestly.

Eh, but soon enough Shim'll dream up something else stupid to do, say, play.

And in the meantime, Zeke has finally located the secret runes in the margins that tell him what he wants, in order to fine-toothedly comb out the wrinkles in his desired interpretation and the glistening rendition of it Aionios Philharmonia have put forward: "Ah...da capo, everyone. We'll just try it again."

If Glimmer perks her ears, she can just detect a decadent groan issuing from the percussion section. Oh, yes, victory is sweet. By his own behavior, Shimmer has sentenced himself to another hundred-odd measures of rest. Winking at Miyabi out of hand, Glimmer innocently readies her bow and waits for the downbeat.