#trinity gate era;

Sybelle had been feeling on edge lately for a reason she ignored. A vague feeling of sickness to her stomach was never really leaving her alone and she'd been staring off into space more frequently, but she'd been mostly ignoring it. This night, however, had started off with another nightmare featuring her main terror, long-dead Fox. Flashes of memories kept intruding as she tried to play another sonata -- nothing sounded right, nothing seemed to soothe her.

It was not unusual for Sybelle to have a bad night where everything she played sounded wrong, too unlike what she was hearing inside her head as she obsessively tried to recreate an imaginary composition. When she had been human, she would have screaming meltdowns about it, but this hadn't happened again after her introduction into the Blood -- she was usually able to put the particular piece aside and take it easy for a while. Tonight, she banged on the keys one last time before she burst into tears, defeated. She was sitting at the foot of her piano and sobbing when Louis found her, completely unable to articulate what was going on. She almost pushed him away at first in her state, not recognizing him immediately. His voice settled that as he held her trembling form against him.

“   just  listen  to  my  heartbeat ,   okay ??   ”

She curled up against Louis, made herself small as he held her and she tried to focus on the sound of his heart.

"Fox, he'd hit Benji too, because of me," she blurted out between sobs. "I didn't remember at the time."

"Oh, yes please. Gladly." Sybelle's eyes lit up as she took Lestat's hand and guided him to the grand piano. The duet bench was already installed ; and while she played mostly by ear and memory, there were plenty of score sheets if needed.

As Lestat sat, she was already improvising a few chords to set the mood. Airy, happy. Glad to be here with him.

Sybelle was no stranger to melancholy and mood swings, and typically reacted by avoiding everyone else except Armand, or putting it all into her music and playing the same songs for hours. The latter behaviour being typical of her, not everyone could tell if not by the way she played. Few could read her music that way, but it always betrayed her mood to a careful listener.

It was usually Armand, Louis or Benji who came by her side to offer comfort upon hearing her plaintive notes, but Lestat had been over for a few nights and had easily read into her sound. She had not felt or seen him come ; only heard his soft, soft voice as her Pathetique quietened down. She had, frankly, not expected him to go to her -- but it made sense, it made sense that he'd understand, too. Slowly, she got up from her piano to go into his arms, and rest her head against his chest.

"Well, I do love you," she whispered. "Thank you."

Before Trinity Gate would fill with guests, Sybelle had been checking Benji's clothes, tucking a collar here, arranging his hair there (despite wanting to ruffle them), adjusting his tie -- until he couldn't stand it anymore. She remembered him dressing her when she couldn't even do that herself and wondered how much was just her wanting to show love and how much was her overcompensating for their past.

He was right, though. A few years in the blood had already passed and he was no child anymore. Still. Little brothers would always be little brothers.

"Sorry." she smiled sheepishly.