[Paul says it with the fervor of a convert by revelation as Kaworu's tender fingers close around his calloused ones, faintly knit by a constellation of small scars.]
But it's not really your hands that you play with. They're- instruments on instruments. You...
[He thinks of the way Kaworu's hands flowed across the keys as he practiced the new songs Teacher showed him, light and unburdened. The first time Paul heard him play, it had been technically near-perfect, and perfectly restrained.
The hand curling around his doesn't feel so confined.]
People say music comes from the soul. [He says, softly.] Yours are good. I can tell from your hands.
no subject
[Paul says it with the fervor of a convert by revelation as Kaworu's tender fingers close around his calloused ones, faintly knit by a constellation of small scars.]
But it's not really your hands that you play with. They're- instruments on instruments. You...
[He thinks of the way Kaworu's hands flowed across the keys as he practiced the new songs Teacher showed him, light and unburdened. The first time Paul heard him play, it had been technically near-perfect, and perfectly restrained.
The hand curling around his doesn't feel so confined.]
People say music comes from the soul. [He says, softly.] Yours are good. I can tell from your hands.