Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 34 ⊰❉⊱

"Night hath closed all in her cloak,
Twinkling stars love-thoughts provoke:
Danger hence good care doth keep,
Jealousy itself doth sleep;
Take me to thee, and thee to me."

- Fourth Song, Sir Philip Sidney

I played for her again.

Quinn had been busy going through a collection of old coins on my shelf when she found the piano. Her compromise was that I could choose anything I wished as long as I played. So now compositions of a past century floated in the air around us.

She sat beside me when her curiosity got the better of her. The flow of notes was smooth and intricate. It danced and wove. I felt her watch the side of my face, although it sent that wave of energy through me in anticipation it made me wary. The music was personal and powerful. I wasn't sure I could handle meeting her eyes without doing something foolish.

I managed to keep my eyes on the keys for the rest of the piece as I brought it to a slow close.

"I feel like I see more of you when you play." She murmured at last.

I took a small sip of air and glanced at those green eyes. Damningly beautiful in the low winter light. In any light.

"I played before... what I am now." I said, shrugging. "It was something I had control over–despite my family's incessant need to shape my existence."

The corner of her lips tugged downwards as a frown claimed her face. I gave her a half smile and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her pulse hummed at the contact so I pulled my hand back.

"What name did they give you?"

I blew out a long breath and stared at my hands resting on the ivory. Then slid them onto my lap.

"I don't use it anymore."

"You don't use many names for long... But I still want to know what yours was." Quinn answered softly. It wasn't particularly demanding and I knew she would drop it if I asked.

"Stella." I mumbled. "Stella Matthews."

And with it came the flashes as they always did. The automobiles in the beginnings of the 1900s. The revolution of industry and innovation. The trap of the powerful families and the disregard for anything else outside of status and appearance–

"Fletcher?"

My eyes flickered to hers suddenly and she covered my hand with hers. I didn't know it had become a fist. She worked my fingers loose slowly and I exhaled.

"I'm not about to drag out your ghosts. You don't have to–"

"It's nothing." I gave her a weak smile. "It was a very different time."

"It has a nice ring to it... Stella." She tested the name again with a slow smile.

I looked down at our hands and played between her fingers.

"My family were big sonnet fans. The name comes from Astrophel and Stella. Which literally meant, 'the star lover and his star'."