[Flashback] Hopes pinned on snowflakes.. (Varian Snowsong)

[Corrien Snowsong]

17th of Summer, 509 AV

Walking around in the light snow that dusted the ground outside her hold, and spun around happily in the snow, her slipper carving out a small depression in the snow and ground beneath as she whirled around. Avanthal was truly a magical city that never ceased to surprise her, and the wind that sang from the trees nearby where a constant comfort to her ears as she played around in the snow. Her lyre sat undisturbed, propped against a ice frosted rock, and her pack rested nearby it, filled with what would serve as her lunch for the day, along with her treated water skin. It was turning out to be a very good day for her so far, she had gotten singing lessons for her sister only a bell ago, and had a good chat with her friend from the Iceglaze Hold.

After much spinning she finally settled down softly on top of the frosted rock and reached across to pick up her lyre, strumming her fingers across the strings and letting out a discordant melody that she remedied by plucking it's middle string once, and then the string farthest from her, the clear notes almost matching the beauty of the whispering wind. Its distinct U shape notched quite comfortably in her right arm, and carefully with the tips of her fingers, she plucked the strings in descending order, getting a feel for the tone of each note before launching into a melody.

Her right hand cradled the back of the strings and with her elbow supporting the body of the lyre, she started strumming to lower strings at its base with her left, simultaneously using her right to pluck as well. While her left did the rhythm, her right set the course and pace for the song, a upbeat tune that set her spirit soaring high into the snowy skies, and she looked up at the sun for a moment to flash it a warm smile. Priskil and Morwen had indeed blessed this day, and the distraction from her chores it offered her. A fresh gust of air from the north greeted her with all its homey briskness and she smiled continuing to play on her lyre, content to just close her eyes, and truly feel the music within herself, as the sun rose higher in the sky, and marked itself at the midday mark once more.

[Varian Snowsong]

Somewhere Corrien could hear the sound of another lyre, a melody so sweet and simple and gentle that it could be mistaken for the sound of the wind for a moment, caressing the trees. She could hear a voice, singing in tune with the music, a man’s voice, deep and not unappealing, but largely untrained, sometimes struggling to hit the right notes. The song was not a song that belonged to the people of Avanthal, not a song of snow and ice and Queen Morwen in her palace. It told of different places where the sun burned down relentlessly throughout the year, of foreign lands that were covered with sand, of strange people that had never known winter’s frosty touch, of an insatiable yearning. And then the song, the melody stopped abruptly. There was nothing for a moment, not a single sound, and then she could fear footsteps, somebody walking through the snow, towards her. If she turned around, she would be able to see him and recognize him as a member of her own hold, although they were not related by blood. Varian was a few years older than her, a little taller than her, with golden skin and dark hair that framed his face. He wore a cloak of fur to protect himself against the ever present cold, but the tips of his gloves had been cut off to allow him to still play the lyre, his current instrument of choice. His eyes were filled with a warm, golden shimmer at the moment, reflecting his mood. As his gaze fell on her, a smile spread across his face, and he came closer. „Corrien, I thought it was you“, he exclaimed and sat down on a nearby rock, placing his lyre besides him. „I could hear you play, even over the sound of my own song. Please, do not let me distract you. Play for me, and simply let me listen. You are much better with the lyre than I can ever hope to be. I was merely trying to improve my own meagre skill.“ He looked at her somewhat apologetically. While Varian played the lyre and the flute – and enjoyed both – his real talent lay in telling stories, of faraway lands, of people that had never set a foot into Avanthal, of great adventures, romances and tragedies. In the evening, in the middle of winter when it was so cold that people hesitated to leave their holds, he’d often stand in front of the fireplace, surrounded by his family and friends, and entertain them, underlining the stories he told with almost exaggerated gestures and a brilliant smile. This was something that he loved even more than making music.

[Corrien Snowsong]

In the distance, the hints of another lyre revealed itself, the two instruments mixing and melding their music but not as well as someone so fine at the art could do it as Corrien was still learning. It was still great fun playing along with this phantom musician who her eyes could not see, and where her song held the sights of Avanthal, and things she had experienced, the distinctly male voice rang out exotic tales that fueled her imagination and fingers. The strings still set with a dusting of frost bit at her yet fully calloused fingers, but still she played on, allowing hers to slowly play second to the new arrival, as her ears listened more to the others music than her own. A few notes trailed out of tune to float on the breeze with her companion musician abruptly ended his playing, and she stopped turning to look over her shoulder to at last unveil this mystery.

Her crystal blue eyes flashed to a warm gold as she laid eyes on Varian, and her lips formed into a wide smile. " A few could argue that your song held more for the ear than mine ever could "she said in her gentle soft voice, and rested her lyre across her lap for the moment while Varian took his seat. A bit of color flared across her cheeks at his compliment, and she giggled softly as her eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment. " I fear you confuse good with loud my friend " she remarked beaming still, but took up her lyre anyways, holding it in the crook of her arm, and resting its base on her thigh. With a soft sigh, she looked at the lyre, and then at Varian, deciding what song she could play though she only knew a few Vantha fairytales, but she could think of one they yet might amuse him.

The lyre jolted to life as she first plucked the center string, and continued outwards, the lines vibrating their melody. She worked the strings further, bending two strings that rested besides the centermost string, and plucking them from behind with her left hand, as her right set the overall rhythm lower, her thumb caressing the tops of the strings just enough to hit ever other one in descending strokes. The tune continued on like that for a while her eyes turning into a introspective crystal blue color as she focused on playing, continuing the rhythm as she took a deep breath, ready to launch into a song.

The wolf that oft be cloaked in white
Gave ye a truly great fright
When the animal hides within the snow
Can creep much farther than I could throw
Raised his head and snarled real loud
Then rose up to his feet, and I swear he frowned
He spoke perfect Vani, and real, real loud
The wolf told tales of a fruit so sweet
With juice that could sustain you for a week
But before his tongue could find its prize
He sneezed and scared himself away


She sang, her voice going a note to high some moments, and she scarcely hit a few notes correctly though she strained to do so. Still she weathered through the song, not to self conscious about her poor singing, simply continuing to do so for the joy of it. When she finished she strummed the last three strings on the lyre softly with her right hand, the notes carrying long after her voice had, and finished with the song, she replaced the lyre in her lap and looked back over at Varian, a hint of blush on her cheeks. " I'm still learning, so forgive my composition " she said softly, and her eyes met his, " Now that you've had your song, how bout you tell me a tale or two? "

[Varian Snowsong]

„Please Corrien, don’t put yourself down for my sake“, he remarked as he heard what she said. „While I might be better at telling stories, I could never match your skill with the lyre. I do not doubt that you will be famous throughout Avanthal when you are my age and that people in every hold will ask you to play for them.“ The words contained a hint of criticism, but it was only mild, and they were delivered in a soft tone and accompagnied by a smile. „Your song might have been a little loud, but it was good nevertheless.“ As she took up her lyre, he leaned back a little and tried to make himself a little more comfortable, as comfortable as one could be on a rock and surrounded by snow and ice. As she began playing, he focused on her fingers, observed the way she plucked the strings, tried to etch what he saw into his mind so that he would be able to replicate it when he was practicing on his own. Her fingers seemed to move with much more confidence than his head. It almost seemed to him as if she went through all those little motions automatically. As she began to sing, he abruptly pulled his gaze away from her hands and looked at her face, at her lips. She wasn’t a perfect singer – even he could notice that her voice went too high at times, and she didn’t hit a few notes correctly – but he enjoyed her song nevertheless. As she ended, he laughed and clapped his hands together. „That was amusing“, he remarked. „Did you just make this song up? I can’t help but wonder if the wolf in your song was a Kelvic wolf. What do you think?“ „Ah, you want to hear a tale ...“ He grinned, and then he wondered what kind of tale would interest her most. He rose to his feet and stood in front of her, arms spread, as if he were entertaining a tavern filled with an eager audience rather than just one girl. „What would you like to hear? Would you like to hear about the Chaktawe? About the evil Zith? About the Symenestra that abduct innocent women and drag them into their caves? Or would you like to hear about a Vantha that set out to see the world and experienced a greater adventure than anybody could have imagined?“

[Corrien Snowsong]

A sparkle leapt to her eyes, and she accepted the criticism all in good measure. Comments served to better ones art, and the more comments she got, the better she could get, and she would make sure to try keeping her voice from cracking the next time. " Perhaps he was a kelvic now that I think about it, but aye the tale is something I fiddled with, silly I know " she giggled, and smiled warmly at Varian.

Placing her hands back on the icy stone that rested behind her, she reclined back and kicked up her legs, cradling them close, as she sat at rapt attention. " The latter sounds the most interesting, tell that one for me won't you Varian " she said with a smile, and chewed on her bottom lip softly in anticipation.

[Varian Snowsong]

„It wasn’t silly at all“, he disagreed her and smiled. His eyes shimmered in a warm golden color, as only a Vantha’s eyes could. „I loved it. If it had been silly, I would have reacted differently.“ He paused and cleared his throat, and then he let his gaze sweep across their snow covered surroundings as if there were countless people there, waiting for his great tale to begin with bated breath. He pretended to look at each member of his imaginary audience, but in the end his gaze setlled on Corrien. „What do you think would be a good name for our hero, Corrien?“ he asked her. „I think I’ll call him Darian. Let’s pretend that he was an ancestor of mine, and that is why our names sound similar. I’ll call him Darian Snowsong. Darian Snowsong lived here, in Avanthal, a few decades ago. Like most of our kind he bore the mark of Morwen and loved to tell stories, and he weaved each story that he heard into a song. He would walk around Avanthal, talk to each person that he met and ask them for a part of their life.“ „Even as a child he was famous for his beautiful voice. At only fifteen he sang for Queen Morwen herself, and she gave him a harp made of ice that wouldn’t melt even in the hottest of summers. He could have stayed there. He could have become the queen’s personal bard, but eventually he had talked to every single inhabitant of Avanthal, and there were no more new songs to be found. He’d just married a young woman then and had become the father of a little girl. He loved them, but there was a part of him that was empty, that could only thrive through music.“ „So he left. In the following years he travelled to Mura. He was in Sahova where the Nuit are. He battled savage Myrians in the jungles of Falyndar, and he saw the Akvatari. He finally arrived in Zeltiva where he met a young woman by the name of Kenabelle Wright. Her book doesn’t mention him – I don’t know why – but he travelled with her. He was one of the few that survived the circumnavigation of the continent. He had often saved her life. When he returned to Zeltiva, he was a famous man, and he caught have taught at the university. But he wasn’t the kind of man that could stay in one place for long.“ „He went to Syliras where he eventually became a knight and spoke to Tyveth himself. He risked his life for the people of Syliras many times. And then, eventually, he travelled back to Avanthal to see what had happened to the family he had left behind and share the stories he had gathered with his people. His parents told him that his wife had left the city with their daughter, looking for him. She had begun to worry about him. While he had become a knight, she had travelled through the wilderness with a cavaran, and they had all been murdered by a band of Zith.“ He fell silent and simply stood there for a moment to give her the opportunity to think about the story he had just made up, and then he asked, „How was it?“

[Corrien Snowsong]

It was a time to listen; Varian was speaking, speaking of a tale of lands far away and adventures untold. She sat on her seat, a flat, windswept rock that was ice cold to bare skin. It tickled her to know that he would favor her, a simple child too many, with a rare tale she could perhaps add to her own collection with his permission. Never before had she left the frozen land that was Avanthal, but she had heard things, rumors mostly of far of lands with sand, or even vast expanses of tall, golden grass. It was part of the reason she considered herself so blest to be a part of the Snowsong hold, to be able to live around such grand tales even though she would likely never breach the borders of this land that was her home. She didn't really want to either for that matter, Avanathal providing for her every want, her friends and family already among her, what else could she want? Varian told the tale well, good in her ears, and had her undivided attention, drawing every range of emotion from her whether it is a wonder when he explored the world so far, awe when he spoke to Kenabelle Wright and sadness when she learned of his family’s death.

A trembling hand moved to her lips, and it took her a moment to collect herself. In the corner of her eye a tear glistened as the last of his words faded into the wind, a somber echo of the content of the tale. Raising her hands, she clapped for him for lack of a better response, fighting the brief sadness with happiness at listening to Varian's tale. It had been a wonderful tale, one filled with adventure and also a lesson, quite masterfully incorporated by Varian to his own credit. " It was beautiful Varian, quite beautiful " she said, her voice emotionally raw still as she struggled to compose herself. Corrien was known for her tenderness, at least to her closest family members, and it wasn't surprising to see her so worked up over a simple tale. She couldn't help that the stories meant so much more to her than they seemed to for anyone else, much as though as if she was living through the stories she heard and told herself. Until she could control her own emotions though she would never be as good as Varian, but perhaps one day, she would be able to incorporate that into the story, and make people feel the way she did about such tales. To feel the wonder that so spiraled in her heart. In her mind, it was what it was truly like to be alive.

[Varian Snowsong]

He could see that she trembled ever so slightly. For a moment it semeed to him as if he could see tears in the corners of her eyes, and it surprised him. Had the story he had just made up really been that good? He pondered that for a moment, tried to find flaws, things that he could do better next time, but as she applauded him, he dismissed all those thoughts and just bowed to her, again acting as if he were facing a grand audience, as if he were entertaining Morwen herself rather than a single girl. "I thank you, my lady", he said and bowed again, and then he grinned at her and sat down next to her. "You know, Corrien, I can’t believe that you don’t have any good stories to tell. Your song was good!" His eyes twinkled as he said this and were filled with a warm, golden shimmer, and there was a smile on his face. He hoped that she would accept his challenge and make up a story of her own, but if she said no, he would just find a way to entertain her again instead.

[Corrien Snowsong]

She clapped and smiled, trying her best to appear as a crowd of people. To entertain a crowd was the highest compliment she could think of, so if she couldn't bring people to hear him she sure was going to try to be loud as a crowd, not necessarily a good thing in the case of any passing people's hearing, as her whoops of joy echoed out. She did settle down after a while though, and contented herself to listen to the words he now spoke.

"A story you say" Corrien hummed, tapping her chin lightly with her index finger while staring up at the sky. She wasn't sure if she could really follow up a story like that, but perhaps if she took a different approach it wouldn't be near as noticeable that it was terrible. A memory from her past drifted across her mind, and with that a way to turn it into a story worth hearing, or at least bearable. "I've got one!" She breathed and sat up quickly, almost dumping her lyre over in the snow, saving it just inches from the fragile crust of snow.

With a twist of her wrist, the base of the lyre was resting on her hip, and cradling it, she strummed the strings softly while making eye contact with Varian. The strings chimed in the wind, unweaving and spreading a warm tone that disappeared in the music wind soon after. "Once there was this wanderer who hailed from far away lands where there are no trees, only endless waves of grass. He came to the snows seeking a place of his own, but told no one of his reasons, only that he had to. Coming in peace, he was well accepted by the Snowsong Hold after he helped a ancestor of ours from the clutches of wolves." Corrien paused, dragging her fingers along the tops of the strings gently, and letting the notes carry as long as the strings vibrated.

"For a while, all was well with the Snowsongs and their visitor, and the stranger soon picked up music, composing strange songs of far off places in a language they had never heard of. He was quite the entertainer, drawing massive crowds from every hold, and leaving everyone happy and content after his songs. Soon word of his talent spread far and wide, drawing people as far as Syliras."

Corrien took a steadying breath, and started to pace from side to side while never taking her eyes off of Varian. Again she strummed the lyre in that same simple way, the short burst of sound giving her inspiration for her words.

"One day, a man showed up inquiring about the other, telling that he wished to express gratitude to his dearest brother, who he said was the stranger. With wide smiles the stranger greeted the other man, and everyone threw a large party at the unification of a family. At the end of the festivities the stranger who had so touched the hearts of our vantha ancestors announced that he was to leave with his brother back to the grasslands where they made their home. With heavy hearts they watched him go, leaving open a invitation to return if ever he needed a home again."

As she finished, red creeped across her cheeks, and she let out a small giggle, and strummed the lyre to break the awkward silence. "How was that?"