Dream 002

[gesangvoll]

Austria sat alone at the piano bench, his eyes closed as his fingers gracefully moved from key to key. It was moments such as this that he enjoyed the most, really; performing for an audience, or for Miss Hungary was enjoyable, yes, but one normally performed pieces that have been well rehearsed and played many times over in those situations. Austria enjoyed playing without an audience merely because he was able to play things such as new pieces that he had yet to work up to performance level or the new, ‘unconventional’ compositions that were being produced these days. Austria was a fan of the older composers, really. Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Haydn. Those were composers Austria was incredibly fond of and he knew their works well. However, even he did admit that quite a bit of enjoyment could be found in performing music that he would normally scoff at due to the composer’s poor choice in key signatures or unusual time signatures, such as the score to Stravinsky’s ballet that had caused such an uproar in Paris the previous year. Austria really was not very fond of the piece as a whole; the unpredictable, dissonant nature of the music itself was far different from the music of his Austrian composers. It was rather fitting, he thought as his fingers danced over the black and white keys, to be performing a piece as outrageous as the music in the Rite of Spring at a time like this, when there was such unrest in portions of his land. Indeed, Austria enjoyed these moments. Much to his dismay, though, Austria found that it was becoming more and more difficult to find adequate time to sit down and rehearse properly, largely due to the fact that he was obligated to spend more time focusing on political matters. Political matters that, in earlier, less troubled times, would be quickly tossed aside for more time to rehearse or perform. There was no point in dwelling upon such upsetting matters, he thought, as he shoved the current political events to the back of his mind to focus more on the instrument in front of him. And so, Austria sat at the piano for quite some time, playing piece after piece, with little to no break in between songs. Indeed, Austria had lost track of time while rehearsing, for when he was disturbed by a knock at the door after what he felt had only been an hour at most, the sun had begun to set.

“You may come in,” he called out as he finished the last measure or two in the movement he had been playing. Upon his saying that, the door was pushed open, and Hungary entered the room, a concerned expression on her face.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, Roderich, but I was wondering if everything was all right. You seemed to be rather distressed lately…” she trailed off. “But don’t worry! Everything will be back to normal soon; I’ll make sure of it!”

As she spoke, Austria stood up from the piano bench, a smile on his face. “You needn’t apologize, Miss Hungary. I thank you for your concern, but really, there is nothing wrong. I am certain that everything will take care of itself in a few days,” he replied. This was a lie, though. He knew it, and he knew that Hungary knew it, as well. However, for the sake of appearances, Austria put on a smile and acted as if nothing was wrong. Appearances, after all, must be upheld, no matter what the true situation may be, if only to reassure those around you that everything would be perfectly fine. He wondered, though, for a brief moment whether or not he was upholding his appearance to reassure himself that current situations would resolve themselves peacefully, allowing for him to return to life as he knew it sooner rather than later. This thought, too, however, was quickly pushed to the back of his mind.

“Please. Sit down,” Austria said, gesturing at one of the chairs that were in this room precisely for this reason. As Hungary sat down in the chair, Austria, too, took a seat on the piano bench once more. He began to play again, but this time, he did not play any of the unconventional music he had been rehearsing before. No, at times like this, Austria fell back onto the Austrian composers he cherished. The Austrian composers whose music he was best known for performing. After all, upholding appearances, even in times as troubling as these was of the utmost importance.

[Austria merely rolled over in his sleep. Dreams like this weren't uncommon for him, and really it wasn't as distressing as the other dream about the Katamari that he had recorded before.]