In Search of Epsilon

Rupturing Melody

“What are you staring at dummy?” asked a very playful Życie. 

Even though she had been asked by the richest and most handsome people in the region to dance, she had just wanted to be with her much less glamorous, and much uglier prince. 

“I just met the strangest woman I had ever seen,” said Francis.  

Życie was already starting to pout. 

“I finally start to have fun at some of these parties and you are already looking for another beautiful girl?” she asked.  

“Another beautiful girl? Who's the first one?” asked Francis with a lopsided smile. 

She smiled at his response and rolled her eyes. While the gesture was meant to signal something similar to mockery, it represented something more akin to appreciation for a good comeback. 

“Well playboy, what else do you got?” she asked. 

This made him revert back into action. He went to where the orchestra was playing. The people in the orchestra continued to play their instruments, but those that could spare their eyes were watching him closely.  

He finally found it in the anteroom of the band. 

It was a fairly recent creation, as culture in the continent had not progressed as much as weapons of war. It was, for those that find these texts, a saxophone.  

It was an instrument that was never to be used in a ballroom. Masters of the instrument were unheard of, because of a certain tragedy in Hunter history. Yet it was always brought because of respect. For them, it was a symbol and not an instrument.  

Francis started to play a smooth slowly rising jazz. 

The orchestra was left appalled at the sudden rupture of the melody.  

While it could have been pleasant in a more considerate scenario, it was not being played to go with the orchestra, but more so as if going against it. 

It was almost as if the instrument was fighting against the wave of sounds being created.  

The orchestra quieted down, as the first solo began.

At this point, instead of letting Francis continue alone, Życie decided to join in on the fun, and she began to sing.  

At the sound of her voice, the orchestra was put again into motion. They adjusted to the new tune, having in the lead this complete stranger. They had been taught to not stop playing music, and only do if a crisis does happen.  

At the end of the song, the people now did not move. They were in awe, and this time, they were looking at Francis. 

They had never seen anyone play the saxophone.  

“Is he?” asked a random member of the audience to nobody in particular.  

Francis stared blankly at the man. He had no idea why they were in shock.  

Francis’ old man, when his grandma was still kicking, always used to dance with her. They danced as if every single tragedy was something that could be forgotten.  

Francis as a kid used to watch them. He slowly began to understand how, even in poverty, one could enjoy themselves as much as they did. Because for them, that single dance was worth all their troubles.  

It was grandma that had taught him how to play the instrument in question, before she passed away. 

Before any movement registered in the guests, Życie sprang into action. She grabbed Francis' wrist and started to run. 

But her father caught them before they could get very far.