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v-e-g-n · 6 months

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Royal Stormwind Orchestra's 2023 Autumn Showcase

Vegn stepped into place with a quick yet formal bow forward. “I’m sure you’ll get sick of being thanked for coming by the end of tonight but I have to extend my gratitude as well; your presence means the world to us all.” His key instrument was hoisted up in one hand to highlight its existence, the silver as spotless as it was reflective. “This first piece I chose to act as a standard step into what we do—and our lovely Elinore will be my pianist assistant~”

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Vegn nodded to himself after Eli led into that measure of piano, lifted the telltale, glimmering mouthpiece of the flute to his lips, and joyfully danced—at least, with the air in his lungs and the fingers upon his instrument. His hobbies did not lie in any other sort of performance. This means of music was all he cared to perfect and platform as a vessel that not even magic could vulnerably express through him.

Default. That was the key word he wanted to emphasize. An introduction to everyone present to the flute—what they must have pictured and heard when it came to mind, nothing more and nothing less. He would boast its other capabilities in his other selections; this one had been chosen for its bright, soft, easygoing tone, his smile aimed Eli’s way proving that he found it to be a classic combo of fairy-esque auras, orchestral duets, and floral imaginings.

Vegn carried the melody as Eli’s keys became background aid to his stage. Here, too, was the moment where Vegn felt at ease enough to begin vaguely swaying, closing his eyes, and pairing himself with the flute rather than the flute with the piano. With the mood of the song set, Vegn now escorted it into its next movement of storytelling, the tune as careful as it was sweet before and after the ivory was tickled during its solo measures.

Vegn was quick to take back up his embouchure positioning as the flute resumed its place against that kiss and the note he pierced to reacquaint himself into the song threw its entire mood into one of a newfound couple’s chase. Lovebirds flounced and spun through whatever picture of nature listeners related them to and the musical scale hopscotched down must have been when one tumbled with laughter down a hill.

Vegn transformed the sunny air back into its prior conviction of velveteen, childlike wonder, the dangling jewelry upon his left earring sparkling as proof of his perky reconnect with an earlier melody. This time, he turned to be sure Elinore was still relishing in the movement and on the same memorized page before a smile renewed itself, his hooded gaze gradually braving to flicker across the faces of all those spread out before him.

Vegn stepped forward half a step as though literally walking into the song now that it was hushing towards its end, the second chorus by now able to be hummed along to by any committed patrons. This round, however, it wound up so quiet that one might have mistakenly prepared a clap towards the end of Eli’s measure. Vegn never held his flute far enough aside to placate a finish, though!

Vegn cut off anybody’s expectations of a quaint completion by suddenly striking the end of his flute up, darting through a spry ditty, and accenting the highest note thus far played with a puff to his chest. The piano then acted as a guide back into the last moments by ushering the metal woodwind towards its middle ground of tranquility, long breaths, and hilltop armistice... and by both it and Eli’s finale, Vegn leaned back to resume his spot, lowered the flute, and peacefully beamed at her in unspoken gratitude.

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“While we aim largely for the classical and traditional, in this next song, I wanted to prove our other capabilities and get everyone to sit up a bit taller… or to perhaps even dance.” He smiled. “With an appearance from Aedris on the saxophone, this is a more city-born, modern hit from Pandaria: ‘Plastic Love’…!”

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For a change, Vegn was the one leading himself into his own song; though not yet entirely solo per the tape-recorded accompaniment that then kicked it, he couldn’t help wanting this piece to be a part of his allotted time. It gave the subtly-echoing flute a much different flavor to be able to play alongside a jazzy beat in place of the song’s usual singer. Physical or vocal prowess and blinding effects had nothing to do with the sheer mysticism of a musical idealist. He wanted to captivate with the manipulation of air alone.

Vegn couldn’t help at least jiving at the knees and in his upper posture as the intro was replaced by the settling in of pop music. Hopefully nobody was sitting entirely still as the stanzas bopped through the beloved song best enjoyed on a late-night stroll through the city. Then, Vegn set his concert flute aside in a magical hover so it could be replaced with an alto one pulled from a quick, discreet pocket of arcane. This appeared entirely similar in make yet almost double in size, so the lower, huskier tone that came from it ought to have been of no surprise when providing harmony to his own earlier playing.

This time around, his smile was crooked with mirth when re-pocketing the alto flute for his standard variant. Embouchure naturally resumed its posture as his new duet partner became someone other than a recording; Aedris was thrown a wink as she took up her saxophone and burst into the myriad.

Aedris got into the groove immediately and though unable to grin back per the form needed to play, her cyan eyes were so aglow with lively entertainment that nobody would be unaffected. This was candy to the ears—as much fun to listen to as it was for her to play.

Vegn’s foot took to tapping long ago but with Aedris mirroring that movement, he no longer felt the need to keep his actions subtle and swayed freely to the beat. Anybody else partying along in the crowd was given a playful nod of kinship.

With his flute at the forefront for a brief solo, Vegn fully embraced the saturated atmosphere by concocting a true string of exhibitionist measures by playing whatever came from his soul, eyes closed and hips popped. Bygones were bygones, expectations were neglected—Vegn went all-in on freeing the artistry inside with elation. Aedris thrived when joining back in; being able to take part in this made her heart soar because the melody itself was easy enough that she need not focus on anything but the disco vibes of crop-tops and neon lights. And, oh, vibe she did! The sparkling ebony of her sax was as radiant as her sound.

Vegn synchronized perfectly with every other instrument to dance through the new bridge. Even the alto flute could be picked up on as having rekindled its existence in recording; each woodwind was so precise in their notes that beyond that, it was almost impossible to pick them apart. Everything flowed like a newly-formed waterfall, the joy never-ending and aqueous with energetic rejuvenation.

Over the next few seconds, the memorable tune woefully faded into silence as though any actual cut-off completion would threaten its need to be played on loop. Vegn, too, settled in his groove by easing his sways until stilled enough to stop his tapping toes and prepare for a bow alongside Aedris.

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Vegn settled his own clapping by picking his flute back up from under the arm it’d been tucked beneath. “Now… I’ve a preference to go into this next bit with no introduction nor context, so… here we go~”

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This one began with an instantaneous slice of a trilling sweep as brisk as it was loud. If his goal was to startle or otherwise attract curious ears, surely, he succeeded—because everything that followed was no less worthy of surprise. He was... playing the percussion on the flute. Beatboxing. That in itself was always worth a startled chuckle but he brushed up on the skill enough to mingle it with held notes; it was a technique he was new to and still practicing but by the gods did he feel confident enough to have some of it spotlit like this.

The sound of it as he’d currently managed to master was jaw-dropping—at least he hoped, because it felt powerful to puff through. Mixing the tip of his tongue in as a cut-off to certain beats and rolling it amidst others fully showed off this unique skill, the notes played throughout never once out of tune nor out of place. There didn’t even seem, yet, to be one set melody for him to fall back on—every single measure sounded made up on the spot though it had all been as composed.

Vegn topped that particular scale off with the second round of samurai-like rhythms, the first repeatable sound thus far heard that cemented it as an actual song. He was adept. Ever since the start, Vegn’s eyes had been shut, every now and then tightening them to the point of pinched brows as emphasis of what bits required his precision. All of it honed in on his focus so this was the only piece he wasn’t able to relax through... which was exactly what he loved about it.

His heartbeat along with the song’s set time very gradually slowed so that every last measure hit home... and every last note struck gold. Animalistic verses tamed from an otherwise wild run until able to be woven through the last handful of moments—purposefully stuttered to sound like a wavering call before being quite literally blown away. Thrilled with himself, one additional note topped off his shortest yet most unforgettable two minutes with a high pitch of grinning triumph.

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Vegn used the back of a thumb to swipe at a single spot of perspiration the excitement and spotlight helped to form upon his brow. “I’ll be settling back into a more peaceful round alongside Briar for this next piece. She will be my guqin aid—and this will indeed be my second Pandaren selection inspired by our shared homeland, so please welcome her up with me…!”

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His concert flute was abandoned for this traditional beginning and in its place was what Vegn picked up for the first time years ago—his bamboo variant first heard in the mountains. Wood replaced metal and the length was added to by a couple of inches. The other change came in the form of his playing. Every other song had been an illustration of notes; this one, thus far, was instead a show of breath control alongside Briar’s garden of sound.

Briar plucked elongated, soulful twangs out of her floating guqin in a manner that proved just how much she was made for this instrument. Slow and steady won the race as her claws became the perfect, natural picks.

Vegn’s gaze was downcast as he continued casting air down the length of his flute, wavering it just so and letting his eyes flutter the rest of the way shut to establish just how in the moment he was. He thus retained his role as the guqin’s backing partner a little while longer; any shorter and the nirvana-like peace of steady rain would simply not have set in in the same way. Vegn looked up as Briar’s expertise echoed through a melodic intro to the mage’s prepared fingers upon his flute. The next time his breath washed through its length, it was in song, and he sat up with squared shoulders to bask in his assignment. This was the only selection he’d made wherein anybody falling asleep would have been viewed as complimentary.

The melody, as much for Pandaria as it was from, was his. Briar remained the foundation and Vegn stood proud upon it with the yin and yang of fragile strength, her plucking the reeds for his wind to weave through. Every note hung in the air as though it could be the last yet onward he ventured through the lullaby. In Vegn’s quiet, escapist mind, he was playing near the Temple of the Jade Serpent like he had when practicing as a teenager.

His solo mingled in a back-and-forth, metaphoric hand-hold with the guqin before their notes paired in congruence. What was not swapped was shared. As before, though, there came a change in his wielded instrument mid-performance; the bamboo flute was left to hover to his feet and his favored dizi was picked up in its place, the end of its more classic measurement accessorized by a decorative tassel of teal that made it known how this was his, personalized and well-loved.

These notes were not as airy and they reached through the heart into the soul. His bias practically had his entire form glowing from the inside out though it was invisible to the eye; Vegn took to this in a way that he could not with its metal cousin. The playing was pristine, comforting, and every bit a part of himself, so much so that he let his gaze re-open and cast towards the horizon.

The song from man let in the song of nature as Briar played through the cradle of distant frogs and musical birds. This became the intro to their end as the guqin began a stanza that the last note of was joined in on by Vegn—who came out of his reverie by lowering the dizi in slow motion. Briar, too, lifted her stare and hovering paws to let their Zen reverberations steady until stilled.

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Vegn rises from the beforehand-conjured seat in order to help Briar away should she need it. Once then straightened out in posture and suit, he began, “My last piece will be my sincerest; I believe the title alone explains it all for me. Please enjoy ‘Fantasia for Flute Solo’ and extend your love to all the others after me that will be entertaining you tonight~”

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Vegn waited for the moment of connection in his mind to mingle with memory before drawing in a steady breath and raising the flute to his lips. His fingers, adept as they had been all this time, began to grace across the keys, the first notes that then escaped into the air seeking to draw the audience into a lulled state akin to a charmed snake.

Its lighthearted melody ever-so-gradually unfurled with the ease of wakeful, yawning splendor wherein Vegn's breath gave life to each peaceful note. Then, suddenly, the pitter-patter of the keys awoke an undercurrent of cheer. His fingers began to move with the dexterity of a dancer that overcame the simplicity of the instrument; the flute became an extension of his smile and his smile an extension of the tune precisely like the flamenco the song was meant to be.

For but a moment, the melody settled like a petal on the water and Vegn’s eyes closed, his body swaying with a dip in playfulness whilst steadying the sonorous journey. The trill that then unfurled shared the intimate conversation of subtle yet flirtatious glances that acted as the cherry on top of this beckoning treat. His fingers retained their delicate yet tempestuous stroll, each fluctuating pitch a welcome breeze and each scale a whiff of spring gardens. He had this jaunt flaunted.

The flute became a torrent of splendor the more he exhibited his ability to dart up and down the scale like a tamed pixie. Continuing with the audible dance, too, his body tensed and relaxed in harmony to mirror the ebb and flow of the pace. The youthful, perfected atmosphere made it increasingly difficult to believe he did not yet declare himself a master of this instrument.

As the song trickled onward, Vegn’s fingers leaped across the flute's polished keys, weaving a tapestry of sound that boasted every shade of color on full display. Just as all-encompassing, his breath became a gale, a tempest that metaphorically swept the audience into a lively coupling of joy and mischief for as long as this part of the piece lasted. Then, the music transformed again. Respite.

With the tempo slowed, Vegn’s flute drew in a curious dragonfly that caught wind of this very faire. His gaze had long been smiling at patrons in the crowd but this prompted them to halfway close as his flute glimmered in the very same manner the insect’s wings were when hovering about. The lazier the melody became in its newfound hush, the closer the dragonfly dared to peek as though it had never come across such a use of soundwaves before—and the lull even gave it a steady enough platform upon the end of the woodwind to occupy. Vegn’s digits spun across the notes with renewed vigor. This change, however, gave too much of a bump in the way the flute needed handled for the dragonfly to remain perched, so it resumed flight, seemingly met Vegn’s eyes as if acknowledging his part, and then went on its merry way by going back in the direction it had come—over the audience’s heads. The only reason the musician’s little grin had to waver was because of all the staccato breaths the song now required.

Vegn prayed that this was the section wherein he and this gathering of those that appreciated instrumentals were not separate beings but a single entity, bound by the wizardry of music. It seemed, thusly, that he was a mage with a handle on more than just the arcane. For but a flicker of a moment as the showcasing of yet more scales eased, Vegn seemed nearly breathless, but the next myriad of softened, endless notes proved otherwise. He really did save the best for last, didn’t he?

Vegn simpered. But of course he would—how else was he to quirk his lips with the mirth of how fun his time on the stage had been? Things were inevitably nearing the end of his section yet he never let up on giving the audience his all. These measures in particular were proof of that; the melody was a reenactment of before yet quicker and punchier lest he lose track of the titled, flamenco vibe.

...It was like he was playing the entire song a second time yet as a speedrun—like a cheeky sort of encore he’d otherwise not have been able to provide. How on Azeroth he could manage that pace and those scales was a wonder that could have made one dizzy. Here and now, center stage, he finally seemed to understand and boast just who he was and what he was capable of, his smile as subtle as always yet wholly present as he embraced this gathering for recognizing his capabilities.

Vegn scaled, and scaled, and scaled... again, and again, and again. At this point, it was impossible to tell if everything performed had been as penned by the composer or if he’d gone off on a long-winded, improv feeling for the last minute. Whatever the case, his handle on oxygen was as insane as his flight, licked lips and wavering fingers in a world of their own. Only the twinkle in that evergreen stare reminded everyone that he was fully attentive by the time the last note sparkled in the spotlight.

#flautist #rso

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