“You actually liked it?” Sarah stared at the woman in surprise.
Rook tapped a heavily loaded paintbrush against a finger, spotting the canvas with small droplets of paint. “Liked what, love?” She turned and Sarah noticed the tiny specks of paint that stood out in sharp contrast on her bare arms.
“That music.” For two words, Sarah managed to inflect it with a surprising amount of venom.
When Jareth and Rook worked in their studio, they often had music playing, usually in a randomly generated playlist that jumped genres, languages and species. However, if the tracks stuck to a theme, Sarah had learned that it was something that had caught Jareth’s ear that he wanted to share. That was what she had assumed she’d walked in on the previous day, when the discordant clangs and bone jangling vibrations had given her an immediate urge to be elsewhere. It was a whirlwind of sound so awful, that she felt it could be weaponised as an act of war.
“Of course.” Rook brushed hair out of the eyes, accidentally smearing paint across her cheek.
Sarah huffed in disbelief and leaned against a cabinet, her arms folded.
Rook handed her brush to Jareth, as she turned to face Sarah. “We both love music.”
She may not have said anything, but Sarah’s expression clearly showed that she did not classify the wall of sound she’d fled from as music, but she nodded to show her comprehension.
“Jareth is a musician with a knowledge and depth of understanding that I lack. He’s always interested in something new.” Rook walked across to Sarah and stood beside her, to watch Jareth as he continued to paint. “My love of music is contextual. He,” she jerked her chin towards Jareth. “Gets excited by tones and phrases and semi quavers.” Jareth snorted in amusement at her botched description. “For me it’s all about associations.”
Sarah nodded. “Like the soundtrack of a movie or the song playing during a road trip?”
“Exactly. I like your noise for the same reason, because of how happy Jareth was sharing it.”
While she could theoretically understand how they both interacted with music, Sarah still had trouble connecting what had sounded like an industrial accident that had been cycled through feedback to anything that could be interpreted as music. As they were both metalworkers, maybe it gave them a warm fuzzy feeling of banging metal with heavy hammers. She had missed living through her stepmother’s railing at her brother’s taste in music and had only gotten the highlights when she’d called home, but even at that remove, she was starting to feel a kinship with Irene’s frustration at the time.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Sarah crossed to kiss Jareth before she walked out. She had an urge to raid the castle’s cellars for a bottle of something interesting and take a trip Above to belatedly commiserate with Irene. Or at least get them both drunk enough to forget ever having heard the noise.
Dissonant
“You actually liked it?” Sarah stared at the woman in surprise.
Rook tapped a heavily loaded paintbrush against a finger, spotting the canvas with small droplets of paint. “Liked what, love?” She turned and Sarah noticed the tiny specks of paint that stood out in sharp contrast on her bare arms.
“That music.” For two words, Sarah managed to inflect it with a surprising amount of venom.
When Jareth and Rook worked in their studio, they often had music playing, usually in a randomly generated playlist that jumped genres, languages and species. However, if the tracks stuck to a theme, Sarah had learned that it was something that had caught Jareth’s ear that he wanted to share. That was what she had assumed she’d walked in on the previous day, when the discordant clangs and bone jangling vibrations had given her an immediate urge to be elsewhere. It was a whirlwind of sound so awful, that she felt it could be weaponised as an act of war.
“Of course.” Rook brushed hair out of the eyes, accidentally smearing paint across her cheek.
Sarah huffed in disbelief and leaned against a cabinet, her arms folded.
Rook handed her brush to Jareth, as she turned to face Sarah. “We both love music.”
She may not have said anything, but Sarah’s expression clearly showed that she did not classify the wall of sound she’d fled from as music, but she nodded to show her comprehension.
“Jareth is a musician with a knowledge and depth of understanding that I lack. He’s always interested in something new.” Rook walked across to Sarah and stood beside her, to watch Jareth as he continued to paint. “My love of music is contextual. He,” she jerked her chin towards Jareth. “Gets excited by tones and phrases and semi quavers.” Jareth snorted in amusement at her botched description. “For me it’s all about associations.”
Sarah nodded. “Like the soundtrack of a movie or the song playing during a road trip?”
“Exactly. I like your noise for the same reason, because of how happy Jareth was sharing it.”
While she could theoretically understand how they both interacted with music, Sarah still had trouble connecting what had sounded like an industrial accident that had been cycled through feedback to anything that could be interpreted as music. As they were both metalworkers, maybe it gave them a warm fuzzy feeling of banging metal with heavy hammers. She had missed living through her stepmother’s railing at her brother’s taste in music and had only gotten the highlights when she’d called home, but even at that remove, she was starting to feel a kinship with Irene’s frustration at the time.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Sarah crossed to kiss Jareth before she walked out. She had an urge to raid the castle’s cellars for a bottle of something interesting and take a trip Above to belatedly commiserate with Irene. Or at least get them both drunk enough to forget ever having heard the noise.