blindingly[ - ]obvious [op-en]

[Ilandra Petrelli]

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Ilandra brushed back a strand of pure blond hair, shoving her free hand in her pocket. Yes, for some odd and completely irrational reason, she was going to practise. She really hated playing it, even if she was passed grade level in skills. Throughout her life she'd been pushed to play the Harp, and even now, two years on from being a orphen, she couldn't bring herself to give it up. Yet, anyway. She could use three grand for something, surely, but selling the harp probably wasn't a great idea. She'd definatly have Jackel and Sophie to answer to if she did. She didn't see the point in having older siblings, especially a brother and a sister. They tried to act like her parents, and they failed, abismally. It was almost cringlingly horrible to watch them try most of the time. Especially Sophie, who was married and had a child of her own. Younger than Ilandra, but not exactly company. What was the point in having siblings as company anyway when she was off on a scholarship an hour's plane ride from home. Too much hassle to actually go home, especially because she just didn't want to. She didn't even know if she'd go home for Jackel's own wedding. The invitation was folding in the pocket of her jeans, sitting there like a dead weight. Something that's hard to forget.

The blonde harpist, sad she had to be blonde it made her look even more like she should be a harpist, walked up the stairs to the practise hall. It was empty, even at midday, even on a thursday. She had her hands in the pocket of her long coat, warding off the chill that fall caused her. It wasn't a very interesting coat, beige with a collar. Nothing expansive or expensive, just a coat to keep out the cold. Her long hair was down, pale eyes watching out as she wandered along the corridor, her heels clicking softly on the ground. Or carpet, whichever was underfoot. Who really looked at what was underfoot?

The music room, or at least one of them, was colder than the corridors outside. There weren't any windows, and the door was solid wood. No light from outside. Ilandra flicked on the light switch and the pathetic bulb glowed a dim orange as she walked across to the large object covered in a silk overhang. She pulled off the overhang and looked at the carved wood infront of her. It was slightly taller than her, but only just, reaching up to about five foot eleven inches. She sighed, running a slim finger over the ingraved swirls along the sound board. It was a beautiful instrument, but still wasn't exactly what she would have thought she'd be doing at this stage in her life. Ilandra moved the harp out into one of the large halls, letting the echos of her heels on the wooden flooring reverbarate around the alcoves. The harp stood in the centre of the floor as Ilandra seated herself on a chair, the tails of her coat falling over the back. She lent the instrument on her shoulder and ran her index finger up the strings.

It took three minutes for the echos to die away. She glanced around the empty hall, or empty for now, and let her figners wash over the strings, getting gradually faster as loosened up her joints. The music rang around the hall, Ilandra's hands moving in a well known sequence. Well known to her anyway, it might have seemed completely random to any passerby. It wasn't really a tune that was famous, just something light and brisk that was very popular with weddings. Very popular, that's where Ilandra got most of her money, she played at weddings and receptions. It raked in the dough. Ilandra's pale eyes seemed slightly unfocused as her fingers danced over each string, letting the sound flicker and die as she carried on. Oh yes, she hated the Harp.

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