It's— [ Stalling, in brief, in the replacement of the string, Sol allows for his eyes to fall closed as he listens to the piece—a strong melody evocative of some dark hero's hymn, metered in beats of four—and finds himself energized in a way he hasn't been for quite some time. This, right here right now, is something to look forward to, an opportunity to compose and to build, actualizing the ambitions of someone close and dear into something beautiful. ] —powerful.

[ And that is a word which Solange does not use lightly, to say the least. ]

Captivating, too, in a way which could certainly stand on its own, but would be even more moving if supported by a chord progression.

[ Opening his eyes, Sol makes quick work of removing the replacement string's slack and checking the violin's bridge before returning the instrument to its proper place: his chin neatly atop the rest, a bow in hand as he plays—frowns, gives pause, if only to tune 'E' to perfect clarity—and plays again, toying with varied supporting rhythms which might be best suited to percussion. ]

...and also by drums, as you said. [ Smiling, Solange shifts closer to Adrian, peering at the notations set upon the nearby stand. ] May I ask what your inspiration was, when you wrote this?