Connor and the Wolves - 48. Composed

Vielen’s 8th. One of the most complicated pieces she’d ever considered playing.
And Kurt couldn’t even practise properly.
No matter; she had a full three months to get this one down. So what if Arban stole the Nicansien from her? She’d show him. She’d show them all. When Miles heard her play this piece, he’d be amazed.
“Khurtsaa, no music at the table,” Catherine scolded.
Grumbling, she unclipped her earbuds. Across the dinner table, Soren watched her. It was really getting on her nerves. But then, what wasn’t getting on her nerves these days?
She tapped her pen against the table, trying to work out the song’s rhythm. The solo was as complex as the rest of the song, but if she could manage to play both the first viola and the solo, preventing Miles from having to delegate another member of the orchestra to shoring up the viola section, maybe he’d be even more impressed.
Besides, she’d never enjoyed waiting while everyone else played.
“Stop tapping please,” Khenbish said quietly, finishing his meal at a more sedate pace than Khurtschono.
Her family always seemed to take forever to eat. Khurtschono didn’t get it. The food was good; why didn’t they eat it faster? She grunted, staring at Soren. The mage had the decency to glance away.
Melodies weaved through her mind as she leaned against the table. Khurtschono straightened before her parents could scold her again, and her foot began bouncing restlessly. Wait… that A was natural, wasn’t it? Was the register flat or sharp? Fuck, she needed to look at the sheet music again, but tablets weren’t allowed at the table either.
“You’re off tonight, right?” Catherine asked Khenbish.
Khenbish nodded.
“Full moon’s coming up,” he said. “They’ll want me rested; I’m the only wolf on the clock for that time.”
Finally, his plate was clear. Khurtschono almost bolted from the table. Grabbing plates and rushing them to the sink, she started washing them, using her elbow to hold them in place while her good hand scrubbed. She cleaned the dishes in record time, and turned toward the stairs, only to slam into Soren.
“Hey,” he said, catching her before she could fall. “I… uh… I need to ask you something.”
“What, how to finally tell Connor you’re not a werewolf?” Khurtschono growled.
Soren shook his head.
“I… want to be a werewolf…” he muttered. “I miss being a wolf.”
Her growl deepened.
“I swear to the gods, Soren-”
“Connor’s turning too,” he added quickly. “We’re… uh, we’re doing this together.”
“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?” Khurtschono demanded.
“Well… um… I thought you’d be able to help-”
“Fuck no. You don’t even know what you’re asking, do you?”
At least it sounded like Connor knew Soren wasn’t a wolf. She’d have to confirm later. But there was no way in Zasar’s Graveyard she was going to have sex with Soren. Besides, Khurtschono doubted it would even work; mates had much better chances of actually turning people.
He really was clueless. Soren stared at her blankly, and she rolled her eyes.
“I’ll talk to Aav. Maybe he knows something,” she grumbled. “Don’t expect anything soon though. Changing someone this close to the full moon would probably kill them. And I’m not doing anything myself, got it?” she added.
“I didn’t expect you to,” Soren protested.
“Yeah? What did you think, you’d just ask for some cum and call it a day?”
He was almost pale. Khurtschono snorted. Absolutely clueless.
“It’s a fucking STD. How did you think you’d get it?” she demanded.
“I… hadn’t really thought about it,” Soren muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Story of your life right there. You better tell Connor to wait too, if he really is going through with this. Try again in a couple of weeks.”
Pushing past the mage, Khurtschono rushed upstairs. She froze at her bedroom door — what was she doing again? Something about music… or was it something about Connor? Fuck, why did everyone have to keep distracting her?
Grabbing her tablet, Khurtschono flopped onto her bed. She’d figure it out eventually. Probably at the worst possible moment, knowing her luck.

A lone viola hummed through the truck as Khurtschono pulled up to the usual morning traffic jam. Sleep had done little to improve his mood, so he fell back on old Reliable — good music that could take his mind away from his troubles.
His right arm slid smoothly as he waited for the cars to inch forward, skimming lightly over invisible strings. He’d cobbled together a basic bowing plan for Vielen’s 8th, and the gods help Arban if he tried to fuck that up. This worked just fine, offering plenty of bow to let each note ring properly without jamming an elbow into his desk partner, as much as Khurtschono wanted to.
Now he just needed to practise the bowing until it was second nature, and when he got his hands on his viola again, all that would be left was the fingerings.
His phone dinged. Khurtschono growled, glancing at PackTalk. Connor’s avatar glowed in the corner of his screen.
‘He told me already. Does it really matter?’
Does it matter? Does it MATTER?? Khurtschono let out a disgusted grunt. Sure, just let Soren get away with lying to them both. Keep dating him. Become a fucking werewolf for him. Fuck, he thought Connor was smarter than this. Or at least more self-confident.
Fuck it, it really wasn’t any of his business. If Connor wanted to keep dating Soren, so be it. Khurtschono had bigger fish to fry.
Like why James had suddenly dropped out of class. Now the entire ensemble had to adjust their sound to cover the missing violinist. Two string players down did not make for a good orchestra, especially not one this size.
Khurstchono had to admit watching the Niwo’s tantrum the other day had been rather entertaining. He was pissed off by the rotational seating. With how James acted, Khurtschono wouldn’t be surprised if he’d sabotaged Soren’s clothes to get Miles fired. Probably thought he was good enough to be first chair, but from what Khurtschono could see, James wasn’t even as good as Lysander, one of the second violins who’d now be taking his spot in the first violins. Khurtschono didn’t know where all this competitiveness came from. Back in Khaany Khaalga, there’d been fierce competition among most sections as people vied for a place in the actual orchestra. But here, there were plenty of chairs, and Miles was actively encouraging cooperation within sections.
Cooperation Khurtschono would agree to if Arban hadn’t stolen his gods-blasted solo.
The cars inched ever closer to Elias Academy. Beside Khurtschono, Soren sat silently, typing slowly into his phone.
“Hey, do you have any spare wolfsbane?” he asked suddenly.
“Why?” Khurtschono asked suspiciously.
“Um… Connor… was with a werewolf last night.”
“Blast it Soren, what the fuck?!” Khurtschono snapped. “I fucking told you to wait!”
“He did it before I could tell him not to!” Soren protested. “Besides, it says we can use a quarter dose of bane to prevent initial shifting. If it took, he won’t turn yet. If it didn’t take, he’ll just be a little nauseous.”
“Well if you know so much about it, surely you can find a way to get a vial without me,” Khurtschono growled.
Khenbish had mentioned something similar though. Maybe Soren was on to something. At any rate, Khurtschono just wanted this shit over and done with. If it meant hooking Soren up, so be it. He’d just have to figure out how.
But that was a challenge to be handled later.

Arban stared blankly at the tablet. All through the music room, students were ditching as fast as they could, eager to escape the day’s trials.
“What exactly am I looking at here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Khurtschono sighed, swiping across the screen. Shoving the tablet back at Arban, he pointed to the little marks above the music.
“I’ve been working on the bowing, since I can’t actually play. We’ll be sitting separately for this concert, so going wild with the bow strokes won’t be as dangerous.”
“You think so?” Arban shook his head. “Larger bow strokes make for louder sounds. Louder sounds will drown out the rest of the orchestra. Come on, Khurtschono, this is basic music theory right here.”
“No, this is right,” Khurtschono growled. “The entire piece is supposed to be sweeping. You can’t do that with little tiny strokes. Besides, the soloist needs to be loud after the orchestra plays their part.”
“Sound won’t be a problem,” Miles spoke up, grabbing a couple of chairs beside them. “I’ve set up a program with the Astaran Chamber Orchestra; we’ll be opening for them once a month; an hour of playtime before they take the stage. That’s why most of our pieces are so short this year. But it will give everyone plenty of experience on a professionally built stage.”
“Regardless, she’s completely ignoring the nuances of varied strokes,” Arban scowled.
“I’m not! There are plenty of shorter strokes in there,” Khurtschono snapped.
“Easy, Kurt,” Miles said soothingly. “I know you’re frustrated about your arm, but that’s no reason to yell at people. You’ll have your chance to play at the end of the year. That’ll give you and Arban plenty of time to practise once your arm heals.”
“I’ll even give you any other solo for the rest of the year,” Arban grumbled. “We could even move the Nicansien to a different concert. It’s not like I care.”
Khurtschono glowered at the other Ythin.
“Quit trying to make me feel bad.” He scowled.
“I’m not. I’d rather be composing than dealing with this horseshit.”
Miles’ eyes lit up.
“Really? Do you think you could put together a short piece for the end of the year?” He asked. “If you can show me you know how, I’ll let you conduct it at the final concert of the year.”
A wide smile beamed across Arban’s face.
“Yeah, sure! If Khurtschono takes the solos, I should be able to make something work. Are you talking about the whole orchestra or just the strings?”
“Why don’t you start with the strings, and we’ll see where it goes,” Miles suggested. He turned back to Khurtschono. “And I’ll adjust the viola solos so you can have them both. You’ll have to work hard once you start playing again; you won’t have much time to pick up the Nicansien.”
“I can do it,” Khurtschono said firmly. “I know I can do it. I won’t let you down.”
She was going to get both solos? Tareth as her witness, Khurtschono would do whatever it took not to fuck this up.