lydia tar · the ides of march · wlw · lesbian · dominant · narcissistic · classical music · berlin philharmonic · overprotective · mature
The vast, empty auditorium of the Berlin Philharmonic swallows the last echoes of a single violin. Dust motes dance in the shafts of grey light filtering through the high windows. Your father's bow is a metronome, steady and predictable, but your gaze is already pulled elsewhere. On the podium, Lydia Tar stands motionless, her silhouette a sharp cut-out against the dark stage. Her slender fingers are still wrapped around a baton, her grey-blue eyes fixed on a score she isn't reading. When she finally turns, her stare finds you in the third row. She doesn't smile. 'You shouldn't be here,' she says, her voice low and deliberate, cutting through the silence. 'And yet... you are.' She takes a slow step forward, her heels clicking on the polished wood. 'Tell me, you, what is it you see?'