Unappreciated Things

Beckyann sighed, looking over the cases in front of her as the shopkeeper continued to blabber on about their qualities. She'd been in the music store for over an hour now, looking at the various instruments that were available for purchase and perusing the sheet music there. Wearing her black dress with silver threading, tinted shades and one of the women's hats that the gilneans had brought into style, she shook her head as the shopkeeper pointed at yet another violin.

"No, that's not what I am looking for," she said, shaking her head. "I told you, money is no object but at the same time I want an instrument that is actually functional. Look at this! Half of the body is made of gold. How exactly is that going to produce a clear and true note?"

The shopkeeper frowned, closing the case and shaking his head, "I'm sorry Miss Eastberg, but this is the best of my collection. We've been over almost all of the instruments I have here and nothing has caught your eye. Perhaps you need to go to Dalaran and see if they have any magically enhanced instruments?"

Beckyann pouted, looking over the collection again. She keenly felt the urge to play, and was annoyed at the fact that she couldn't dredge up the courage to go and get her original instrument from the grotto near Northshire Abbey. She turned, preparing to go when her eyes trailed across the topmost shelves of the shop, coming to rest on a battered old case with dust on it. She pointed, her tone curious, "What is that?"

The shopkeeper looked to where she was pointing and shook his head, frowning, "You don't want that one Miss Eastberg. It's not in the best of conditions and has a bit of a dark history to it."

She turned and looked at the man, tilting her head, "Dark history? What do you mean? Can I see it?"

The rather rotund man sighed, nodding and stepping out from behind the counter where he had been standing. He walked across the room and grabbed a step stool, climbing it and leaning precariously to reach the top shelf. Beckyann watched him, attempting to smother the smirk that threatened to curl across her lips; she could have just death gripped it down, but it wouldn't do to use dark magic in the middle of Stormwind.

After a struggle the man retrieved the battered old violin case, blowing dust off of it as he set it on the counter. He patted it, shaking his head, "This one is a survivor, that's for sure, but all the previous owners met a grim fate. Although I can't confirm the story, tales have it that it was first made in Stratholme, and carried from that city when it was overrun with the undead. The owner fell somewhere in the plaguelands. Poor fella's probably a walking zombie or something now."

He paused, looking at Beckyann to see how the story was affecting her. Seeing that she was completely unconcerned, he hurried on, "After that it was apparently put in a cache by a couple of Cult of the Damned members who were a bit ambitious with their collection of wealth. Those two died during a raid by some Argent Crusade, who picked it up and hauled it back to one of their towers. The same tower that was then assaulted by undead trolls of some sort. Thing was lost again, and dug up by an archaeologist who looted the old troll ruins where it had been taken by the undead."

Beckyann's eyebrow had begun to rise at the tall tale, and she eyed the man over, "You can't be serious..."

"Oh, serious as a heart attack, Miss Eastberg," he replied happily. "After that, the darned archeologist's ship was hit by pirates on the way home, and this thing ended up in Booty Bay, sold through the black market there. Tale is the owner there died when his house mysteriously burned down after he had accidentally stabbed himself in the back repeatedly with a dagger. Somehow the case protected it though, and it was resold through normal channels until it ended up here. As you can see, you probably don't want it. It's cursed."

"Aren't we all," Beckyann murmured. "Open it. I want to see."

With a sigh the man popped open the clasps on the case, exposing the instrument within. It was battered and old, the finish marred in a few places. Made of plain wood by the artisans of Stratholme, the varnish had many years of dust accumulated on it. Beckyann stepped forward, gently wiping a layer of grime from it, gasping lightly as the stylzed 'L' of Lordaeron was exposed on the body of the instrument. It had been lovingly carved into the wood and stained a deep rich brown.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Eastberg," the shopkeeper said. "This is the only other violin I have here since you don't like the others..."

Beckyann wasn't listening though. Almost in a trance, she picked the violin up, turning it over in her hands, feeling the wood against her fingertips, the weight of history and darkness the instrument held. It almost wept the misery it had been in contact with, and she felt a deep connection with it. She and it had come from the same place, the same disastrous end of the world as it were.

"It's beautiful, can I play it?" she asked.

The shopkeeper nodded, turning to retrieve some strings from his work table. In a few minutes he'd repaired the instrument, handing it to Beckyann and watching as she carefully tuned it. With her eyes closed, she rested her chin against it, bringing the bow up and gently playing a few notes.

It played true, the haunting melody coming from the 'cursed' instrument exactly in tune and precisely what she'd been looking for. After only a few moments of playing, she stopped, a bright smile on her face, "I'll take it, it's perfect."

The shopkeeper nodded, taking it and returning it to its case. He looked up at her again before he sighed, "I don't know why you'd want a battered old thing like this instead of one of the beauties I've got here, but alright."

As Beckyann slid a pouch of coins over to the man, she smiled, her voice light, "Sometimes those things that are least appreciated simply need to be in the right hands. It will play again, and its voice will be much appreciated I assure you. It is only cursed if you allow the darkness to completely smother the music. I've learned that recently."

The shopkeeper shook his head, not understanding. He handed the closed case to the strange woman, nodding to her as she turned to leave. Personally he was just glad to get the thing out of his shop, and if the woman wanted to risk being horribly cursed, that was her business.

It was a shame, she seemed like such a nice young lady...