“I do,” he agrees, and considers it. “I don’t mean to insult your choice to share it. I just… I know so much can be in the details. The small moments that loom large inside your chest. So I don’t want to presume either. Telling me about that,” he dips his head to her, “it’s not nothing.”
He won’t say thank you. But he hopes she understands.
It's not nothing. It's the first time Ulla has ever described that
moment aloud. She just tore old wounds open, and she isn't sure whether
she feels better for it.
But music is an easy lifeline to grasp, and she's grateful for the change
of subject. The reprieve. "Yes. I still want to learn."
He nods... and he slings the instrument back to his front, pulling the strap off of him and offering it to her.
He doesn't want her to go too deep on the first meeting, doesn't want her to regret talking to him, or sharing with him. Wounds like that can flow like a torrent when you take the pressure off for an instant. And he knows, for himself? He'd regret letting out too much. And if he wasn't feeling generous?
He might even resent someone for not stopping him. Better to end with something to shared like this.
"You use the knobs at the top to adjust the tension on the strings. Then you use your fingers to press here," he points to the neck, "between the raised sections to change the length of the string, changing the note."
Ulla plucks each string experimentally, strums once, then presses her
fingers to the frets and tries it again to see how the sound changes. A
welcome distraction. "And the notes are different depending on where you
press. So there's a range of notes you can play on each string."
It makes sense, though it might not come quite as easily to her as
piano did.
"Show me how to hold it for a few chords?" She could try to feel out some
fingerings for herself, and probably will later, in the music room. But
she'll take instruction while she can get it.
Ulla is now averse to emotional connections, but she's never minded touch.
Not even from people she dislikes, who have never had anything but
contempt for her. He's an improvement over her fellow sildroher.
He’ll nod and, without any hesitation, is moving o er to show her finger placements, strumming techniques, and how to take care and not muddle the sound with how she holds it. He’ll spend as long as she likes teaching, or answering questions.
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no subject
Ulla glances up at him again, finally. "You understand more than most, I think." Or they wouldn't have had this conversation at all.
She reaches for another piece of fish, swallowing down some of her anger along with it.
no subject
He won’t say thank you. But he hopes she understands.
“Were you still up for guitar lessons?”
no subject
It's not nothing. It's the first time Ulla has ever described that moment aloud. She just tore old wounds open, and she isn't sure whether she feels better for it.
But music is an easy lifeline to grasp, and she's grateful for the change of subject. The reprieve. "Yes. I still want to learn."
no subject
He doesn't want her to go too deep on the first meeting, doesn't want her to regret talking to him, or sharing with him. Wounds like that can flow like a torrent when you take the pressure off for an instant. And he knows, for himself? He'd regret letting out too much. And if he wasn't feeling generous?
He might even resent someone for not stopping him. Better to end with something to shared like this.
"You use the knobs at the top to adjust the tension on the strings. Then you use your fingers to press here," he points to the neck, "between the raised sections to change the length of the string, changing the note."
no subject
Ulla plucks each string experimentally, strums once, then presses her fingers to the frets and tries it again to see how the sound changes. A welcome distraction. "And the notes are different depending on where you press. So there's a range of notes you can play on each string."
It makes sense, though it might not come quite as easily to her as piano did.
no subject
"You can play individual notes," he gestures to the strings with a plucking notion, "and chords" and a strumming motion.
"And of course, you can mix the two."
no subject
"Show me how to hold it for a few chords?" She could try to feel out some fingerings for herself, and probably will later, in the music room. But she'll take instruction while she can get it.
no subject
"May I touch you?"
It would be easier that way, but it wouldn't be impossible to manage it without.
no subject
Ulla is now averse to emotional connections, but she's never minded touch. Not even from people she dislikes, who have never had anything but contempt for her. He's an improvement over her fellow sildroher.
She nods. "I don't mind."
no subject
For her? He has nothing but patience.