Composer of Verses

by **Seisyll** on November 3rd, 2014, 10:52 pm

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36th Day of Fall, 514AV

"A man once had two daughters, the elder one married to a farmer of crops on the land, and the other, the younger, to a thatcher of roofs." It was a simple story, one with no particular moral, that Seisyll had decided to start with, for her first tale in Taloba. Keen not to offend any who called this city home so early in her arrival to this place, she would not offer a tale which might rebuke one for how they lived their lives. Nor would she preach. She could share many tales of her Goddess patron Makutsi, and she knew they would be accepted by the inhabitants of this city, but she chose not to, not yet.

"After a time he went to the daughter who had married the farmer, and inquired after how all things went with her. The daughter replied, 'All things are prospering with me, and I have only one wish, that there may be a heavy fall of rain, in order that the crops that grow in the fields may be well watered.'" Seisyll's voice changed slightly, and her pace and intonation shifted, when she began to relay the direct speech from the first sister in the tale. Her story was not a long one, not by any means, yet the Dhani was conscious that she must change her tone in order to keep her audience interested in the tale. If her voice was monotonous, the listeners would cease to pay attention.

The tale that Seisyll was sharing was not a song, it was a mere spoken story. Yet the Ivyess, always conscious of the pronounced sibilance that came out when she pronounced the 's' sound in certain words, allowed her voice to take on a relatively sing-song quality, which would mask some of the extended sibilance in her speech, remembering the terrible fate of her brother, Seisyll knew how much the Myrians hated a race that they did not understand, and she was keen Tito avoid discarding her own life because of carelessness. "Not long after, he went to the daughter who had married the thatcher, and likewise inquired of her how she fared; she replied, 'I want for nothing, and have only one wish, that the dry weather may continue, and the light of Syna remains hot and bright, so that the roofs may be lain correctly.'"

"He replied to her, 'If your sister wishes for rain, and you for dry weather, with which of the two am I to join my wishes?'" The story finished, Seisyll looked up, towards her audience, pleased to see that it had grown slightly in size. The smiles on the faces of those listening suggested that they had noticed nothing unusual about her speech, and she was pleased. She had to make money in some fashion... the young woman wondered if fabricating such a vocal profession was a foolish idea. Yet it was the perfect cover for her - a travelling minstrel.

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by **Seisyll** on November 16th, 2014, 4:47 pm

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Seisyll was pleased - it was he first attempt at sharing stories with the Myrian folk and, even though she had done her utmost to hide her nerves and give off an air of a confident, well-versed storyteller and minstrel, she could actually feel her extremities shaking at the end of her first tale. Wringing her hands together, each gripped the other tightly in an effort to stem the tremors. Her harp lay unused beside her, and she hoped that she might be able to play it al little later, when her nerves had settled. At the moment, however, she knew it would be a fool's errand, and it would destroy any credibility as a minstrel that she could create.

But her nerves were settling ever so slightly; she could see smiles on the faces of those who were listening, and many of the smiles belonged to the children. Knowing little of this culture, she did not know if these people valued their offspring, but she assumed that it must be so. Some who had listened to her first tale were now standing to leave, but those people were being replaced by more, people who were apparently willing to take time away from whatever task had previously occupied their time in favour of listening to the tales weaved by a storyteller. "My next tale will be one of... companionssship, and how to tell the value of a friend."

"Two men travelled together along a quiet, wooded track, when a bear unexpectedly met them on their path, appearing from behind a tree. One of them climbed up quickly into a tree and concealed himself behind a branch, with little thought for the friend left alone on the ground." Again, he tale was woven slowly, and Seisyll struggled to recall the tale that her brothers had helped her to perfect; when they had learnt it, they cared not for the sibilance in some of their words... they knew no different and could not tell that their 's' was distinguished from normal speech. Her, though, she knew how accentuated it was, and she had to think on her feet to change individual words from the formula that she had learnt.

Her grasp of the language was not perfect either, so she wondered if the concepts were being lost. But she was lucky - as a minstrel, she had the luxury of mulling over words, her tale could be spoke softly, almost lethargically, and the listeners could process it. "The other, realising that he would be attacked, fell flat on the ground, and when the bear came up and felt him with his sssnout, and smelt him all over, he did not breathe, and feigned the appearance of death as much as he could. The bear quickly left him be, for it is said he will not t-touch a dead body."

Careful not to examine the faces of those listening to her tale too closely, Seisyll did not want to break her flow so easily, which would ultimately make people think that something was wrong. Thinking such things would make them look for something wrong, and then they might notice the sibilance, but Seisyll could hear it in her own speech, and it worried her. To combat it, the only thought that came to made was to trip on other sounds. Even though she could limit use, she couldn't remove 's' from her vocabulary entirely, so she started to stutter, ever so slightly.

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by **Seisyll** on November 16th, 2014, 4:49 pm

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"W-when the man in the tree had watched the bear leave, he waited for a number more chimes, then - and only then - did the man climb down and out of the tree to where the friend still lay on the ground. He poked his c-companion to move and jocularly inquired of his friend what it was the bear had whissspered in his ear." Seisyll noted the expressions of some of the older listeners, those with some life experience, and she could tell that they had worked out where this tale was going.

It occurred to her that, if this nation hunted Dhani, they would have some reason to. She wondered what else they hunted, what other dangers lived in the jungles of Falyndar. As a serpent, Seisyll had had little to fear, but she would not have risked much time in human form. Were they a warring peoples? Did they place much stead in loyalties, at having another's back? At their expressions, Seisyll thought so, and she decided that this was a particularly good tale to share with the younger generation of Myrians. She just hoped that the adults agreed.

"The man on the ground moved, and looked around to the other with an angry look on his face. 'He gave me a little advice,' the companion replied as he clambered to his feet. 'Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger.'" Upon finishing, the young Ivyess heard a generalised sound of understanding escaping the lips of the younger members of the audience, and she nodded sincerely. Falling more naturally into her routine, she was beginning to calm a little. It also occurred to her that, whilst she enjoyed telling stories and singing songs, she also enjoyed the aspect of teaching people something valuable.

Lifting her harp, she strung it a few times to ensure that it was tuned correctly. A gift from one of her brothers, it was her most prised possession and, although she did not understand the device entirely, she was getting better at playing it. One of the strings appeared to sound a little lower than it should, so she twisted its corresponding knob a little. Plucking the note again, it. Still didn't sound perfect, but it would do for now. "I would like to play you a tune or two now, to give my voice a little break..." she smiled and turned her attention to her long, thin fingers as they began to pluck the instrument.

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by **Seisyll** on November 16th, 2014, 4:51 pm

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The Freshwater Ivyess had not mastered the harp, and could not yet play a string of chords to create harmonious melodies. It was something that she would have to practice in the privacy of her own room, rather than trying out different chords now and creating something that would cause her audience to wince. Instead, she contented herself with individual notes, again using a formula that she had perfected before she had ever travelled to the city. It was simple, but sweet sounding, and she imagined that it was appreciated by the remaining listeners.

Again, her audience had dispersed slightly, and she could understand that people were not so interested in listening to music played with no other medium to keep them entertained. But it didn't bother her; she needed the practice, and she had the self-assurance that her audience had reached a respectable size when she had been sharing the story of the bear and two travellers. Taking a risk, her finger slept an octave higher, playing the same few notes in turn, just higher pitched. A small smile graced her lips when she didn't slip, nor leave a gap of silence durning the change. As she played, she thought of a final tale to tell her audience before bowing out. It wasn't long before she thought of one that might be popular, and she gently slowed her tune on the harp to a finish.

"I have one final tale to tell before I return to my accommodation..." the children perked up and Seisyll couldn't help but laugh as she rested the small harp back down beside her leg. "A young boy, out playing not far from his home, was ssstung by a nettle. He ran home and told his mother, 'Although it hurt me very much, I only touched it gently.' The boy d-didn't undersstand, and the mother couldn't help but laugh."

"'That will be why it hurt you,' replied the mother. 'The next time you touch a nettle, grasp it boldly, and it will be gentle as wool to your hand, and not hurt you.'" A small frown came to the Ivyess' face... was wool soft? She didn't know... but there was no chance that she would attempt getting away with uttering 'soft as silk' in front of these people. "Whatever you do, do with all your might."

Once finished, she thanked her audience for listening to her tales and began to pick up her harp. "What is your name, storyteller?" piped up one of the children, and Seisyll looked around to seek the speaker out, and instead was met with many pairs of eyes all starting, all waiting for an answer. "Tae." She blurted out the same answer she had given the guards before she had even thought about it properly. The audience accepted the answer and thanked her before dispersing, and Seisyll finally relaxed.

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by **Voodoo** on November 25th, 2014, 6:36 am

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Seisyll :

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Solo Composer of Verses