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Memory Prose: Playing
Trigger Item: Piano
Source: Headcanon
Time: 2247 (age seven)
A woman sits on the bench. This is Chekov's mother, Anna Irinova. Unlike Andrei Chekov, Anna looks very like Pavel: she has the same gray-green eyes and curly hair and a similarly slim build. There's a sort of bright fogginess around her that obscures some of the details of her features. She plays ten seconds or so of a Rachmaninoff composition before turning around and frowning in the direction of the couch.
"Your physics will still be there after your lesson, boychik."
The small boy on the couch--Pavel again, but now he's just six years old--sighs and, with all of the reluctance and drama of someone who's being forced to do just the worst thing ever, puts down the device he's holding. "Why do I need to learn this? There aren't any pianos on spaceships."
"You aren't on a spaceship right now and because I said so." She waves him over, unmoved by his display. "Don't you want to know how to do something other than being a genius?"
"Not really."
"Pavlusha." The endearment manages to sound like a threat.
Pavel sighs again but does move to join her on the piano bench. "I like just being a genius. I'm good at it."
"Sometimes you need to do things that you aren't good at." Her tone is frank, but not cold. "You could be good at this if you applied yourself. Music is math that you can hear."
"It's not interesting math."
"Your scales, please."
He picks out the major scales, gradually warming up to the activity now that he's here and doing it. Anna runs her fingers through his messy hair. "Rachmaninoff was a wunderkind like you. They say that he could hear a piece of music just once and play it back perfectly years and years later."
"Did he know how to do anything other than being a music genius?"
She gives the side of his head a light, scolding tap. "Yes, because he listened to his mother when she tried to teach him how to do other things."
"I listen to you all the time."
"Some of the time."
"At least half the time."
They make very similar fond-but-slightly-exasperated faces at each other.
"At least half the time, I'll give you that." Anna pulls her son close and, reaching around him, picks the song up where she left off. Even though it's incongruously dramatic in this scene, Pavel seems to like it. He snuggles up to her and listens.
Source: Headcanon
Time: 2247 (age seven)
A woman sits on the bench. This is Chekov's mother, Anna Irinova. Unlike Andrei Chekov, Anna looks very like Pavel: she has the same gray-green eyes and curly hair and a similarly slim build. There's a sort of bright fogginess around her that obscures some of the details of her features. She plays ten seconds or so of a Rachmaninoff composition before turning around and frowning in the direction of the couch.
"Your physics will still be there after your lesson, boychik."
The small boy on the couch--Pavel again, but now he's just six years old--sighs and, with all of the reluctance and drama of someone who's being forced to do just the worst thing ever, puts down the device he's holding. "Why do I need to learn this? There aren't any pianos on spaceships."
"You aren't on a spaceship right now and because I said so." She waves him over, unmoved by his display. "Don't you want to know how to do something other than being a genius?"
"Not really."
"Pavlusha." The endearment manages to sound like a threat.
Pavel sighs again but does move to join her on the piano bench. "I like just being a genius. I'm good at it."
"Sometimes you need to do things that you aren't good at." Her tone is frank, but not cold. "You could be good at this if you applied yourself. Music is math that you can hear."
"It's not interesting math."
"Your scales, please."
He picks out the major scales, gradually warming up to the activity now that he's here and doing it. Anna runs her fingers through his messy hair. "Rachmaninoff was a wunderkind like you. They say that he could hear a piece of music just once and play it back perfectly years and years later."
"Did he know how to do anything other than being a music genius?"
She gives the side of his head a light, scolding tap. "Yes, because he listened to his mother when she tried to teach him how to do other things."
"I listen to you all the time."
"Some of the time."
"At least half the time."
They make very similar fond-but-slightly-exasperated faces at each other.
"At least half the time, I'll give you that." Anna pulls her son close and, reaching around him, picks the song up where she left off. Even though it's incongruously dramatic in this scene, Pavel seems to like it. He snuggles up to her and listens.