Porphyria wasn’t certain Mrs. Malfoy would have confessed not to liking something if it was more appropriate to agree with it, but as she had specified opera of her own accord Phryi took the liberty of believing her to be sincere. Opera was one of those things not everyone understood, after all, and people who sat through enduring it rather than internalising the emotion of it like a tidal wave did not tend to offer it as a voluntary subject of conversation.
“Of course,” she answered anyway, both to opera and to music generally. “Some, anyway. I like anything that moves me,” she confessed, still lingering between cheer and seriousness, rather fond of composers who tended to wild operatic tragedies, the stormy sort that coursed through one’s veins from head to toe. Sturm und Drang, and suchlike. “Much like poetry, I suppose. Worth absolutely nothing unless they feel like a stake to the heart. Do you think?”
“Of course,” she answered anyway, both to opera and to music generally. “Some, anyway. I like anything that moves me,” she confessed, still lingering between cheer and seriousness, rather fond of composers who tended to wild operatic tragedies, the stormy sort that coursed through one’s veins from head to toe. Sturm und Drang, and suchlike. “Much like poetry, I suppose. Worth absolutely nothing unless they feel like a stake to the heart. Do you think?”
a sublime set by Lady! <3