Tonight, Alianna was clad in white, her flowing dress loose and billowing like a fashionable bathrobe adorned with lace. She rested her right elbow on the table, chin propped upon her hand; in her left, she held a few sheets of manuscript marked with gray spots on the back, their state of decay reminiscent of something freshly unearthed from a grave.
It was sheet music, and Lyle could barely make out the antiquated musical scores upon them.
"Sphield's final masterpiece, a composer once fond of depicting death, who will no longer sing praises for the 'Lady Crow'."
"Is it precious?"
"To my eyes, yes. Although the composer himself discarded them as if they were nothing, it does not prevent them from holding a place in our hearts as listeners. I likely lost myself in excitement for twenty minutes upon acquiring it. It will be the climax of my next concert."
"That's truly something to look forward to."
Her gaze, fixated on the manuscript, shifted to this side.
