🦚💐🎼!
Maestro (Harpy Peacock) x Anonymous Reader
(AKZZKSKXKSKSXKS-- I wanna know who sent this on my gosh! Who is responsible for this??? x//Dc
I-is that you peacock harpy anon?? Are you back to give me more peacock prompts?? What do I do with all these fowl?!? These foul fowl. . . (Joking!)
This made me laugh out loud when I saw this prompt in my que, I wanted to say something as soon as I saw it, but I was good and went in order instead of skipping ahead! :')c Here is Maestro, a classical composer, and a bit of a jerk! Can you get them to chill out? Methinks the answer is yes 👀 )
You shuffle into your seat, next to your fellow musicians that made up your instruments section, hurrying to get your own instrument ready so when the great cantankerous composer swanned onto the podium you wouldn’t have to be given the evil eye. You sat up and craned your neck, trying to see if you could spot them from where you sat. Before turning your head down and furiously fumbling through your folder of piece music. “They’re coming— quick!” A soft murmur of noise causes you to drop your papers. Swearing under your breath and leaning down to attempt to gather them.
Your gaze meets a shiny pair of dark talons standing in front of you, and your heart sinks. Slowly looking up into a fierce face with bright blue-green feathers surrounding high cheekbones, a sharp nose and arched eyebrows. Their lips a fine pursed line, before they stoop and help you reclaim your papers, thrusting the ones you needed under your nose before stalking away. You wilt in your seat, a minotaur who sat beside you pat your shoulder with a gentle sympathy. A sharp impatient tapping on the podium that has everyone quickly ready their instruments to begin.
You had thought joining a band again had sounded fun, until you had the displeasure of meeting Jameson M. Maestro, or Maestro, as everyone called him. He was brilliant, with a razor sharp wit and even a sharper fuse. Every once in a while people would refer to him as Mr. Kettle. Which brought about a very vivid description of a tea kettle whistling steam and jumping around. You had laughed at the image your mind had conjured, and then had felt ashamed.
He never joined in on anything, when the band would gather for an after practice gathering. He was “too busy” or “had too much to do,” refusing to join and typically keeping to themselves after practice.
“I can’t believe he helped you pick up your papers!” Quipped a gnoll, licking the leftovers of a pain au chocolat from their nose.
“I hoped I wouldn’t have to step in again,” Murmured Bo, the big minotaur that was your chair mate. “He gets so angry and tense, I think he needs to take it easy on the newcomers, not everything can be perfect all the time.”
You sat with the few friends you made at a local coffee shop, staring down at the cup of tea that rested in front of you.
“Maybe he finally has?” Mariette, the gnoll, whiskered hopefully. “I feel like he’s getting a little better at least. With the whole temper thing.”
“I don’t know guys,” You said, “I’ve been thinking about quitting, the atmosphere is pretty intense in there.”
“What no!” A clawed hand gripping your shoulder, Mariette’s eyes wide. Bo’s usually angular features deflate. “Oh. . .”
“It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve been there!” Mariette shoots a look up at the Minotaur, “It’s too early to quit! Right Bo??” Bo, blinks and looks uneasy, “Well. . . he has been pretty tough on you kiddo. . . Maybe instead of quittin’ we can talk to him together. Talk to some of the other band mates and talk to him as a team. If it doesn’t get better. . .” The shaggy minotaur shrugs, “Well. . . if you leave, I leave. I don’t like seeing my little ball of sunshine cry.”
Mariette bristles before clenching her jaw, “. . . If you and Bo are outta there, so am I! We’ll just have to find some other hobby to do together.” You look over and smile at them, the stress and worry has your eyes beginning to flow over with tears. “Th-thanks for having my back guys. . .”
The unlikely friends share a big hug and a round of consoling before all going their separate ways. Before you knew it, a week had flown by and the conversation that you had put into the farthest corner of your mind had reared its ugly head.
“I really don’t wanna have that kind of talk with Maestro” You said to yourself in the mirror. “But if I quit I don’t want Mari and Bo to feel like that have to jump ship too.” You watched your brow crease before you sigh, splashing water on your face.
“I wish I knew what to do. . .”
You find yourself arriving to practice early, holding your instrument in front of you as you cautiously push the door open. Alarmed at finding an empty recital, you check your phone and groan inwardly.
“Oh man. . . it doesn’t start for another hour! Dummy— dummy!”
At least. . . it’s quiet. You shuffle up the stairs and leave your instrument on your seat. Putting your hands on your hips as you survey the empty building.
“I guess I can go get a coffee or something. . . I’d hate to go all the way back home just to leave again. . .”
You give another exasperated sigh, checking your phone as you walk back down the stairs. That’s when you notice out of the corner of your eye, a dim cast of light from underneath the door.
You slowly peek around the corner, seeing a brightly colored figure slumped on their desk, hands crossed under himself.
“Ah— Mister Maestro, are you okay?” You open the door and uneasily enter the room, “Maestro?” You put a nervous hand on his shoulder, and give him a little shake. Blue steely eyes crack open, causing you to retract your hand and jump back.
“Oh— thank goodness—“ You flustered, “I was afraid you— I don’t know, passed out?” You rest a hand over your heart and huff. Watching the harpy rouse sluggishly and hold his head.
“Enough, enough—“ He grumbled, “Who?” Before he turned his head and squinted in your direction, snatching a pair of spectacles and peering through them. His feathers did something funny then, ruffling up as he sprang to his feet, suddenly alert at your presence.
“You! What are you doing here?!”
You flinch and back up, “I-I’m here for recital! I j-just got here early!” Holding up your hands defensively.
“Recital. . . isn’t in another hour—“
“Y-yes! Yes I know that! I mean, I know that now, I came early on accident!”
The bright fluff of feathers slowly sink back down into their normal refined state, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with taloned fingers. The two of you standing in a silent and awkward stalement.
You suck in a breath of air.
“I-I can go— If you want. I didn’t mean to distu—“
“It’s fine.”
Both of you wince at the sharp sound of his voice and Maestro sighs grumpily, massaging his forehead.
“Let’s. . . try that again. What I meant is that, you are not disturbing me. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I was glad someone woke me up. Or else I could have slept the whole day away.”
“. . . Would you. . . like me to get you a cup of coffee. . . ?”
Steely eyes glance at you for a moment before he looks away. “. . . I can get something myself, thank you.”
Well. You tried.
You nod and make the mental choice not to take it personally, “Alright then, well if you change your mind, I’ll be going to the coffee shop a block away—“
You blink as you watch him shrug on a coat. Stepping back hastily as he marches forward, but then freezing as he comes to a stop beside you.
“Ah—“
“Since,” He intones quietly, his eyes not meeting yours, “You had to deal with the trouble of meeting me on a particularly dismal morning. . . I’ll treat.”
You stare at him taken aback, his eyes dart to yours ruffling uncomfortably before he stiffens and raises his head high. “I. . . don’t know the way. You have to show me.”
You blink a couple of times, trying to process the situation, as Maestro continues to fluff up with unease.
“O-oh! Sure I can show you where it is!” You give a hesitant smile and gives an almost mechanical nod, refusing to meet your eye.
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