Closed Can you hear it? (Norae, Trista)

[Ethan Terran]

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23rd of Winter, 514 AV
Location: Not far from Patchwork Port

Tilting his head, Ethan listened. All around him he could hear life, laughter, and fun. The crunch of boots upon the cobblestone to his left caused the blind man to shift slightly to the right, using his walking stick to tap out the path ahead as he moved to avoid a man carrying a load in his arms heading toward the docks. Ethan could smell the sweat upon his brown, and the creak of a wooden crate, or was it a box, in his arms made his arms strain and his heart beat a bit faster.

A smile touched his lips as Ethan resumed his forward path, his guiding stick out in front of him, tap tap tapping away from left to right as he made a path through the center of the street. He felt a soft breeze as a woman noticed him almost too late, quickly shuffling aside and her dress fluttering in the cold winter air as she made a hasty apology and continued on her way. Beyond the unwary passer or two the path Ethan walked was unobstructed. Somehow the sight of a man carrying a stick with eyes milky white awakened some form of passion, or pity, from many that saw him and so they tried to give this poor soul enough room that he could continue on his way without too much trouble. Of course this was not always the case and from time to time Ethan himself had to sidestep or slow his motions before running into a body who was even less aware of his surroundings than a blind man. It was in many ways a tad humerus, but maybe a morbid humor that only Ethan would actually find laugh worthy.

Then, of course, a stone found its way beneath Ethan's foot and the man pitched forward, mouth agape a moment in surprise before he caught himself with his walking stick a tick before falling flat on his face. His heart rate increased, and with a sigh and a soft laugh at himself Ethan pulled himself back to his feet once more, ignoring the sound of footsteps that had stopped for a moment to see if he would actually fall or not. With a smile and a wave to either side Ethan began to walk once more, and the footsteps on either side kept going as well.

"I really need to stop getting so full of myself." he chuckled, rubbing a hand through his hair and scratching his head, "Hearing is good and all, but it does not exactly mean I can walk around like my eyes have been healed."

This gave him pause, and pause he did indeed as Ethan tiled his head from some to side, leaning on his walking stick as he scratched his beard, "More importantly... where am I?"

Ethan was a new arrival in the city of Alvadas, fresh from the boat in fact and on his travels here he had heard many curious stories about this city of Illusions. The streets shifted and changed at the cities whim, flowers would sing and trees would bow to passers by in the streets. Even night and day were never certain things in this city, or so the stories told and if the tales of drunken sailors was to be believed. Ethan was a man who found it quite easy to take another at their word, for really it was rare that he could 'see' the evidence for himself. Some might call him too trusting, but the blind man figured to fool the blind was as effective as stealing from beggars. Deep down humanity, and most races Ethan believed, had a center for good and truth. For those who trusted only what they could see, however, it was often difficult to hear that soft not of honesty.

Blinking Ethan turned back the way he had come and there was a surprise to be found there. He sniffed the air, and with a raised eyebrow realized he could no longer catch the hint of salted air. Not only that but the sounds of gulls and the lapping of waves were completely gone. Odd, for he had only traveled a few yards at most. Furrowing his brow the bard scratched his beard more vigorously, as if he expected an answer to come falling from its unkempt tangles.

A short distance away his ears were perked by the sounds of trickling water, a fountain perhaps? Turning toward the sound Ethan once more began his way forward, taping along as he did until the end of the stick butted against a hard stone surface. The impact sent a ripple of sound through the stone itself, something deep and low that Ethan could 'feel' more than hear. Curious Ethan knelt down and ran his fingers over the surface of the stone and turned his head to listen more closely. There was from somewhere deep within a very soft, nearly unnoticeable sound deep like the rumbling of the earth that the man had never heard before. It was odd, something new that made the blind man smile and laugh, "Will wonders never cease. Who knew there was so much in this world that even the blind could discover."

A splash of could droplets upon his hair confirmed that what he had found was, indeed, a fountain, and Ethan's hand was running along the edge of its wide brim. The stone was rough and grainy, and if he listened closer he could hear the flow of water currents through the stone itself. He had never noticed before but what sounds passed through caused the sounds quality to change. The more Ethan discovered, the more he was fascinated by the gift that was given to him by the old man in Syliras. Rhaus... Did a day ever pass that he did not think of him? Or thank him?

Standing with the aid of his walking stick Ethan dusted off his woefully ragged and dirty clothes, and with a twist he pulled the pack from where it rested against his back and set it against the little ledge where he now seated himself. This, all that was on him was all that he owned and all that he cared for. A meager few items, little more than a beggar would possess, but it would not be that way forever. Here Ethan believed would begin a change in his fortunes. The music had brought him here, and surely it would also bring him fortune.

From a pocket Ethan produced a long cloth pouch, dirtied as well, and from it came a very simple flute carved from wood. His fingers brushed over it almost reverently as he brought it to his lips, eyes looking up for a moment before closing, "Hey old man, I hope you can hear this. This is my thanks to you."

Pulling in a breath Ethan began with one soft, low note and let it flow out long and clear. A second note then came, slightly higher and pitched just so that it was a mark off from resonating with the echo of the first. He did this again and again, always just a hair off from letting the tones resonate as he ascended up the scale, going higher and higher until he let the last piercing note waver and fade to silence. A tick and then two passed as a pause in the piece was knowledge, and then began to true tune.

It was a light yet simple melody, a steady tempo but not overly complicated at is bounced between two octaves. It was simply a music of thanks and praise, and as he played Ethan smiled and wondered if Rhaus could hear him and what would he say? Probably tell him to keep practicing. Maybe, one day, Ethan's abilities would grow such that he could perform for the Gods themselves.

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[Trista]

Why, Trista asked herself, was she here? It was a question that the Akvatari asked herself often, though the tenor of the inquiry varied. Sometimes, it was an existential question -- why was she in this plane of existence, in this form, alive at this time? These were queries that she'd pondered often during sleepless nights and empty mornings. This time, however, the question was more specific. Why Alvadas? Why now? After leaving Ahnatep, she'd gone back to Abura, spending her time in her artistic pursuits in her quiet room in the Pearl Tower. A year and a half had passed in this manner, and sometimes, Trista had wondered if she was finished traveling altogether. In her heart of hearts, however, she knew this wasn't the case. Her wanderlust was strong, and she again felt that she needed new experiences to fuel her art. But where was she to go? Konti? At some point, Trista knew she needed to return to the Seer's Isle, but it didn't seem like this was the time. Likewise, she felt that her business in Black Rock was unfinished, but finishing it now simply didn't feel right. Ahnatep had been an acceptable place to work, but the inhabitants there were so troublesome that it had been a constant test of her patience, and she felt no desire to go back. Riverfall had been a more pleasant experience, but her connection to it had been more based on certain people than the location, and she had no idea if they were even still there. And with Ezebel gone, Eloab was simply a collection of ruined huts under a blank and blazing sky. With retracing her previous steps seeming not to be in the metaphorical cards, Trista had spent time in Abura's library, poring over the maps and descriptions there. Finally, she'd decided on Alvadas, simply because it sounded like it might give her some things to think about artistically. A town where the laws of nature were no more predictable than a dice roll surely would provide her with inspiration. ***** Trista had had the entire trip to decide if her somewhat arbitrary decision made any sense -- and the trip wasn't a short one. It involved booking passage on a Zeltivan trade ship around the southern tip of Mizahar, and then up the Faleyk Gulf, almost to the Suvan Sea. This required a not insignificant investment of time, most of which the Akvatari spent drawing sketches in a (relatively) quiet corner of the deck. After that, she had taken leave of the boat and set off on her own. Travel in Mizahar hazardous at best, but flying was probably the safest way to get around, and it wasn't that far to Alvadas anyway. It hadn't been that long before she'd seen the shifting outline of the city in front of her. ***** And now here she was -- but to what end? Normally, when Trista entered a new city, she did some street portraiture to raise a few mizas, and then went looking for a cheap room to rent in which she could set up her studio. (A wise person would probably have already had the money available up front, but Trista was congenitally incapable of holding onto her funds for any length of time.) Below her, she spotted a fountain, which might not be a bad place to start drawing. Her wings beat quickly as she lowered herself to the ground. There was a reasonable amount of foot traffic around the fountain, but the only person that she saw lingering was a young man playing a flute. The song was not one that the Akvatari remembered to have heard before, and she listened to it with interest. For all that her visual art was the closest thing she had to a livelihood, Trista was a musician too, and she wondered if she'd be able to pick out the tune on her dulcimer. Her first inclination was to wait for a pause in the music and then ask the man if he wanted his portrait drawn. However, a moment of further inspection indicated that he was almost certainly blind, and, she thought wryly, not really a likely customer. Soon, however, those thoughts were lost in pure appreciation of a fellow musician. When the pause in the playing finally came, Trista flitted slightly closer, and then said, "That was beautiful, sir. Thank you for sharing it."

[Norae]

Norae was not the typical joiner. She was never the life of the party and was often overlooked at said parties. She liked moving through the world as an observer until it was time to perform and then and only then did the spotlight appeal to her. Busking was not something she entertained, not really, because the coin for it was sporadic and the stares guaranteed. The Eth was usually in survival mode, keeping a low profile until such a time as a higher one was needed.

So while it was light and her head was horned, she kept her cloak up and tucked about her face. It had a deep hood, one that didn't exactly conceal the fact that she had horns since their shape was perfectly outlined by the drape of the fabric across them. But at least they weren't gleaming crystalline in Syna's weak winter light. Norae liked being missed. It was far easier, however, at night to go unnoticed, than under Syna's light. So she packed light, wore plain clothing, and concealed her features as best she could.

The bard didn't have any instruments with her. She always felt they were too valuable to tote about a new place. Instead, she was dressed for warmth, and simply enjoying strolling the ever changing city streets. And naturally, after dropping off The Oasis' two passengers that had booked passage to Alvadas, she had time to wander. After making her long-term berth arrangements, Norae set off to town. She wouldn't need to find an Inn to sleep at. And being Eth she didn't need to particularly eat. So instead, she headed to find some entertainment, music perhaps, and to see if she could perhaps find a nice place to play that night to earn a few stray coins.

It didn't take her long, wandering the streets, to figure out Alvadas didn't want her finding a tavern she'd remembered from her last visit. In fact, the city had turned her around four times after she'd started out towards where she approximated the place to be. Instead, the frustrating moody almost sentient city kept dumping her back into the same square by the same fountain and it was unnerving.

She wasn't looking to busk, though the spot seemed perfect for it. There were already others there doing so. One was a very comely blind man, though she couldn't be certain he was truly blind, who played a lovely flute. Norae listened quietly, moving around the fountain to the far side, where she could still see him but where she could also settle down. The ground was gently rolling, mimicking the sea, and it was a sensation she knew from experience would take her several chimes if not a bell or two in order to find relief from. She watched the flutist, an admired the tone and pitch, thinking his song lovely if not somewhat mournful in its own right.

The Akvatari was something of a surprise as well. One didn't see them often in the city, and one certainly didn't see them lounging by fountains taking in bards. The woman was lovely, and Norae took a moment to study her. She'd seen Akvatari before. She'd even taken them to and Abura. It was odd that a race that could both swim and fly often chose to sail to and from as if they didn't have wings or fins. But seeing one alone made Norae wonder slightly.

She moved closer.

As she moved closer, her gnosis mark on her shoulder suddenly hummed with pleasure and she glanced between the two trying to decide who had the Rhaus mark. It was the man with the milky orbs, of course. No wonder his song was so god, even if his flute was simple.

She moved even closer still. He would feel her gnosis now, just as surely as he could feel hrs. Then slowly, when the Akvatari spoke, Nora nodded as well. "You are very talented. I have no money to reward you for your efforts, but I would very much love to hear another song." The daughter of Syna said, adding her quietly pitched voice to the already confusing jumble.

[Ethan Terran]

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For a short while Ethan let himself become lost in the music, in the sounds as the floated from his fingers through the instrument and into the very air around him to disperse among the city streets. The simplicity in the act of playing was meditative, and with a tune that was well practice it allowed his mind to wander and ponder on other things that came and went on some whim that was beyond himself. He thought about the man, Rhaus, and what his meeting had done for him. It was very much a change in his innermost being, this gift which was like an answer to prayers he had never realized he had uttered. Had he been watching Ethan all this time? Watching and waiting until he was ready? If that was the case then what had changed from the time he arrived in Syliras to that moment in late Fall? Was he a different person now because of this meeting?

An unusual sound caught Ethan's attention, but not so much that it interrupted his playing. It sounded like wings of some sort. The air was pushed aside in a way that seemed very different from the wings of a bird. He could not hear the faint rustle of shifting feathers nor the taunt drum of a leathery wing of a bat. Perhaps if Ethan had ever tried to hear the beat of a butterflies wings he would have ventured a guess to the nature of the being that settled on one side, but alas that sort of that had never occurred to the blind man. After all who took conscious efforts to find out what a butterfly in flight sounded like?

He smiled in the direction of this new observer, but continued his song until its completion. His attention at that time was so focused upon this new arrival, who did not seem like an average person to his senses, that he did not notice the second body come and shift close and closer onto his other side. In fact he was completely unaware of her until he felt the mark on his own shoulder give a soft hum announcing the presence of another like himself. His surprise as this feeling caused him to suck in a sudden breath, ending the melody a tad prematurely but perhaps it would not be noticed.

Lowering the instrument from his lips Ethan laughed and looked on either side of himself, toward each new arrival in turn, "Oh my I did not expect my fumbling and attempt at music would attract the attention of two lovely ladies. I surely must be dreaming." He chuckled and ran his fingers through his long unkempt hair, the gesture becoming somewhat of a habit to him.

The woman on his right, her voice was soft and carried with it a feeling of kindness. When she moved Ethan could hear her lower torso shift but where he expected two separate sources of sound from her feet he noticed that there was none at all. This gave the man pause, but he did not let himself dwell upon it long. After all a blind man would always be blind to certain details.

The woman on the left drew a larger portion of Ethan's attention. From her he could feel the connection drawn between two bards and this alone made him smile warmly at her as his unseeing eyes looked in her direction. Her voice was pitched beautifully, like she was but a breath away from singing, and there was an unusual quality to her. He could not quite say what it was that felt... different about her, but it was like from her there was a light or a radiance. A warmth he could not actually feel, and a hum of music he could not hear.

"I am honored that my playing could entertain. My name is Ethan. Ethan Terran. Have either of you a request?" He raised his flute slightly higher and tilted his head first to the right and then to the left, staring straight ahead as he did, "If I know the tune I will happily play it."

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[Trista]

Trista turned slightly as another person approached. An Ethaefal, by her looks, though her clothing was designed not to draw attention to the fact. Trista knew of the Ethaefal, of course, and had even spoken to one once or twice in passing during her travels, but had never really had a proper conversation. The Akvatari respected them deeply though, considering them to be something of a mirror image. The Children of the Sea and Sky remembered nothing at all of their past, while those torn from Syna and Leth remembered far too much. Given that Trista was trying to memorize the structure of the song, she did notice that the man seemed to fumble the ending slightly. It might have been connected with the arrival of the Ethaefal, and Trista wondered for a moment if the two knew each other. Their brief dialogue seemed to indicate that this was not the case, though it still felt to Trista like there was something going on of which she was not fully aware. Nothing about the situation seemed threatening, however. "I'm Trista," she said, after Ethan had introduced himself. After leaving a pause for the other woman to do the same, she replied, "I don't have any requests, but I'd be happy to hear anything else that you have to play." Truth be told, she would rather hear Ethan play what he wanted to play, rather than impose on his artistic vision. Who knew what constellation of songs was in his head? Some people liked the comfort of hearing familiar music -- and Trista certainly indulged in that comfort on occasion -- but here she was, halfway across Mizahar, on a journey that was supposed to provide her with artistic inspiration, and she couldn't think of anything more in keeping with her mission than to simply listen. Although she made no offer to play anything herself, Trista's fingers ran idly along the case to her dulcimer. Whenever she finally found a place to stay, she would have to get it out. Listening to music always made the Akvatari want to play some music herself. Maybe she'd see if she could pick that first song out.

[Norae]

The bard was good. But it wasn't the playing that made him good. Norae had seen it before. It was the heart of the man, the way he interacted with the world. He was alive in a way most people were not. The Eth gazed at the pair, offering the Akvatari a half smile as she acknowledged the stranger's bravery in the midst of so many humans. The bard was a human too, but he was different as well. He had a milky whiteness to his eyes that made Norae wonder if he had problems with his eyesight. In the old days, many had lost the use of their vision, which was in many ways a blessing in the dark bowels of the world they all became locked within. It was the djed that poisoned the world, stealing sight, hearing, and sometimes even the voices if it left anyone alive at all.

The bard was too young to be one of the fled though. He was too young to know what living in Semelle's guts was like. There was darkness and fear, whole generations lost, and the bard looked touched by none of that. He had a light, a joy, that came to only those that seemed to know their luck and be thankful of their stars. Norae appreciated that.

So she took a seat besides Trista, laying a gentle hand on the woman's seal body, stroking the soft silky fur there. Trista was not the first Akvatari Norae had met, and to a single one of them, the entire race was in such a way that they were deeply sensitive thinkers, tactile and artistic. She'd never met one that hadn't loved to be touched. "Well met, Ethan and Trista. I am Norae. And I have a request, if you would not mind, Ethan. I'd love to hear your oldest piece, something from times past when things were both better and worse, darker and lighter. Can you play something like that for us?" Norae asked, knowing she had no coin to offer him, but more than willing to place a few rations in his musical case if he would accept them.

[Ethan Terran]

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"Trista, and Norae..." Ethan spoke each of their names slowly, feeling how they rolled off his tongue and he was delighted by the odd angles they tilted his voice when he spoke them, "What beautiful names."

"A song from the past... Hmmm." Lowering his flute Ethan ran his fingers over the old instruments rough surface, "That is an odd request, I am not quite sure that I..." He paused once more, his hand passing over the flute once more and a small smile touched his lips when he opened his eyes to look toward the women in his audience, "Oh, but maybe there is one, but I am afraid it is not all that impressive. If you care to hear it, then I am happy to sing it for you."

Clearing his throat the blind man would re position himself so that he faced both Trista and Norae. The flute he handled with care, absently fingering its edges as he spoke softly, leaning in close so they could hear, "Long long ago there was a boy born without light in his eyes, a cripple in every sense of the word except he never felt that way himself. His parents were loving, and very supportive and did all they could to make him feel as whole as any other child. Of course, there were times when it was inevitable that his limitations could not be ignored, and the nightmares that came in those times of sorrow were so great that the child could not sleep at all. However, at those times his mother... my mother, would sing this to me."

Closing his eyes Ethan began with a deep hum, as low in his spectrum as he could go and held the note while he let his mark fill him. He listened to the frequency of his audience, slowly trying to match as close as he could so that they could experience the same emotions he had as a child.

"Hush, my child. Sleep, dear Child.
Mother will always love you..."

It was a slow melody, deep and rose and fell like the tides on the banks of the sea. As he sang Ethan let his body rock slowly back and forth, feeling for those lost emotions he had almost forgotten.

"Rest, my child. Dream, dear child.
Mother will protect you."

Ethan remembered the warmth that those words, when sung before the nights rest, had brought him. The ease, the relaxation and the longing to be close with the person he loved most.

"Though the days are gone, and the nights are long.
The future shines as bright as the coming dawn.
In the hours of peace, let your dreams take flight
For tomorrow brings the morning light."

Hope, excitement and happiness seemed to Ethan to flow from the words as the tempo increased slightly and the octave went up. The thrum of the Gnosis upon his skin sang a tune through his whole body. If there was ever a song that Ethan claimed as his favorite, this one would be close to the top.

"Hush, my child... dream dear child.
I will be with you forever."

The last two lines lowered once more, and the notes were longer until the very last which was held for several ticks... before Ethan released his breath and let the silence fall once more. Slowly stilling his rocking the blind man opened his eyes and looked to the sides, tilting his head toward his audience, "That is, perhaps, the oldest song that I know. There are a few more verses to it, but from there it repeats for as long as you wish it. What do you think?"

Ethan's Lullaby :

Its not very good quality as I do not have a mike for the computer and no editing was done. I just wanted to have something for you two to go off of when you reply. Maybe in the future If I do more of these singing portions Ill look into making higher quality tracks and such. For now bear with me!

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[Trista]

Trista was surprised when Norae touched her fur, but she quickly relaxed into the gentleness of it. Few people would dare do something like that -- and, to be honest, Trista probably wouldn't have let many people do it. These were dangerous times, and it was best to be on one's guard, especially if, like Trista, one had no useful combat skills of any kind. But Norae seemed to have no ulterior motive, and so Trista allowed herself to enjoy the contact. The Akvatari said nothing when Norae made her song request, but looked on in interest. It was a request that allowed for creativity on the part of the musician, and she was curious to see how Ethan would react to it. She appreciated the fact that he prefaced it with a story. The man didn't seem to have much training as a storyteller, but there was genuine heart in his words. Just because Trista was essentially an academic artist -- at least when it came to her foundational training -- it didn't mean that she couldn't appreciate work that was untrained but emotionally true. Then the notes of the song washed over her. It was always interesting to hear the lullabies of other cultures. Akvatari lullabies, such as they were, tended to be about the uncaringness of nature, or the inevitability of death, or the profoundness of loss, or something else along those lines. They were beautiful and complex and elegantly constructed -- and, at least when her own parents had sung them, impeccably performed -- but they weren't particularly comforting. If human lullabies existed to show that there were no monsters under the bed after all, Akvatari lullabies would add that this was because the universe itself was the monster -- the monster that was also inside each of us. Nonetheless, Trista appreciated the warmth of the performance, and the calmness of the melody. Ethan's voice was genuinely beautiful, and he conveyed a remarkable tenderness with his singing. If the music didn't come from a place that Trista had ever been, she still was grateful for the window into that place that it provided. "It was lovely," she said when Ethan stopped for questions. "You're an excellent performer." The questions that she wanted to ask next were ethnomusicological -- had his mother written the song? Was it a folk tune? Was the pattern of the text fixed, or did individual singers add variations? Was it ever performed with accompaniment? However, Trista knew that, although she was hungry for knowledge, pressing performers with those kinds of questions after a performance often just frustrated them, as coming back from the emotional place to which one went while performing often took a little while. So she held her tongue, simply smiling, and idly running her hand over her dulcimer case again, while the Fallen One stroked her fur, and the city whirled its illusions around her.