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England, 1748
"I hear she can't see." An elderly woman gossiped with her friend, watching the young Irish lady walk past with flaming locks of hair that glistened down her back.
"Perhaps they're all like that there," The other woman commented, a pout on her overly pampered lips as she pulled out an obnoxiously bright fan that matched her obnoxiously bright outfit. "Defective."
Ailbe could hear them all perfectly. She was blind, not deaf. She could hear every whisper, every jest, every snide remark about herself and her herritage. Still she kept walking, head held high and a smile on her lips. Her hand danced along the tabletops, until finally coming to a pause when she felt something that made her heart stop. Her true love of the time, the one thing that had set her apart from the world, her talent. A violin.
Without hesitation, she picked it up and slowly traced the strings with the delicate bow. As she came more accustomed to the instrument, soft melodies began to play. Heads turned, watching the blind girl in awe as they had never before heard such talent. Each stroke was genius. Each sound was enchanting.
From across the room, a pair of bright blue eyes watched her in fascination. The emotion she put into every note filled him with understanding. He felt like he knew the girl, like they'd met before in some distant time just by hearing her play.
As she finished, the room erupted in applause and Ailbe coyly made her way to the far corners of the room to avoid the large amount of praise. She wasn't used to it. In her family, she was the disappointment. She'd been locked away for years in shame, with only her violin as company.
Finally, she found quiet in a little dark corner when a voice pulled her from her melancholy thoughts. "What was the name of that song?"
It was a simple question, but for some reason she froze. The voice sounded so familiar to her ear, in a way that she couldn't quite place. "I haven't thought of one yet." She smiled shyly, tucking a strand of bright hair behind her ear.
For some reason, such a small act was rather endearing to the stranger. "You wrote it?" He asked, earning a nod. "What's it about?"
Again, she blushed brightly. "Love." She answered, her voice so delicate and quiet that it could barely be heard. "Love through a thousand lives."
"That sounds like a name to me." He watched her closely, noting how she stood out from all else in the room. While they pampered themselves with gluttony and vanity, she sat there like the purest rose in a field. She smiled brightly, a genuine smile of kindness. She was quiet, reserved, calm, and took no part in the systematic tearing down of others. She was simply serene, simply happy, simply perfect. "And what's your name?" He persisted.
Again, she smiled gently. "Ailbe," She answered. "What's yours."
"Ivar." He returned. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I don't think so," She chuckled without bitterness, only genuine amusement. "I've never been allowed outside before."
"Why not?" He pulled a face, and Ailbe didn't need to see him to know his expression.
"Because I'm blind, sir." She answered politely. Instantly, she expected him to run off with some excuse - to tell her that she was bad company due to her defect. But he didn't.
He stayed quiet for only a moment, and then spoke with the smoothest tone, "So?"
She gave another nervous chuckle, "So, I'm an embarrassment."
Ivar scoffed, "They're an embarrassment for hiding you away." He spoke bitterly, in a way that made her smile. As he stood up with his crutch, the whole room tensed. Ailbe jumped when she heard his glass smash against the floor angrily. "You're all embarrassments!" He yelled. "With your money and your power. Who will remember you in a hundred years? Who will remember you in a thousand? You're wastes of life, all of you." Ailbe jumped again, when she felt him pull her up beside him. "But they'll remember us, even if we are 'defective'." And with that, he walked out.
Ailbe stood and watched in awe. Everything she'd ever been taught had told her she must stay, she must apologize, she must be good. But everything inside her soul told her to follow him. She was done apologizing to them. And for some odd reason, he felt like her fate. Her destiny. So she followed.
"Wait!" She shouted behind him, running to catch up. She couldn't see the smug smirk plastered on his lips and perhaps that was for the best. All she saw was her future. Her past. Her everything, there in that one moment. "I feel like I know you." She said as the stood in the doorway, her heart racing. "But I know we've never met."
Slowly, he leaned closer, down to whisper in her ear. That smirk never left. "Maybe we've known eachother in a thousand lives already."
And for some strange reason, she was certain that they had.
