Timestamp: 38th of Fall, 522 A.V.
Evening was falling across Syka and the offshore wind was slowly ebbing into nothing, changing directions, to where it would blow onshore and cool the warmer land. Steam rose from the jungle behind where Tazrae sat, whisps dancing across the tree borders like living creatures.
The woman paid them no mind. She was used to their ethereal company and the never-ending sound of the jungle behind her. Adult Ixam played in the distant waves further down the beach, hunting their favorite prey to fill their bellies for the night. Tazrae, having finished her work for the day, was unwinding from the dinner crowd that had shown up at The Protea to have a meal and some conversation. The crowd had been bigger than normal because it had been too hot for most people to light their own cookfires.
That left her most of the evening free. She’d fed her guests quickly and then left snacks and jugs of iced and cloth-covered fruit juice for anyone utilizing the deck and perhaps playing cards or gossiping by the firelight of the outdoor hearth or pits. Someone would throw logs on the fire and the last person to either go to bed in the Inn or leave for home would bank the fires for the morning. And anyhow, Taz would still be up for hours, most likely roaming, and would stop by and double-check to make sure all was well before the moon was halfway across the night sky.
The heat and humidity had teased her already curly hair into a wild mass that the transitional wind was slowly toying with. She had it pulled up off her neck and gathered in a loose bun which most of the curls had already escaped. She must have cooled off in the sea or under the shower before heading to Garden Beach because she only had a cream crochet bikini top and a pair of crochet briefs on beneath a large fringed salmon pink scarf that tied at her hips to form a makeshift skirt. And where the wind had yet to play, her hair was still wet.
Half curled around the huge sleeping pad on the palapa, a fully mature green Ixam with sapphire markings was lounging, listening to the bard toy with a brand-new instrument. Bree’s eyes were half-lidded, indicating she was more than likely asleep, lulled by the woman playing the wooden flute. There were other Ixam about beyond those in the waves, these smaller, curled in groups of twos and threes of various ages. Garden beach had become their refuge and sanctuary from things that often hunted them when they weren’t gathered there. The dog had long abandoned Tazrae for Juli’s house where Creature spent most of his time these days. Taz hadn’t taken offense at it, not really, for the dog was adored by the woman and the woman worshiped the dog. It worked out well for the Ixam and the dog had never truly gotten along.
Stars were slowly winking into existence on the low horizon, even though the sun had yet to fully set. It would be a beautiful clear evening with no sign of rain. It was Tazrae’s favorite kind of night, one for contemplation, music, and admiration of what was all around them. Bree stuck close because like all Ixam, she was more than a little nocturnal and she knew her friend would trade her human form for a more suitable one and run with her deep into the jungle and long into the night.
Meanwhile, Tazrae held a tribal wooden flute in her hands, one that she’d had for a while but hadn’t played with overly much. She was still figuring out the fingerings, though she had quickly learned she could get a clear full tone by even breathing and covering the holes with the flat of her fingers. Much like the mandolin, there was no one to teach her. She had to teach herself. But she was used to such things and gave it no mind. Music was music, and half the fun was puzzling out how to make such things produce.
She’d found out quickly that the carved bird on the top had to be manipulated into a better place, then she had worked on how to finger the holes, finding the flats of her fingerpads much better at blocking sound than the tips. She found that she could blow gently and get a crisp clear steady note. Then she began lifting fingers off all the covered holes, listening to the sound that it produced. Lifting finger by finger, she slowly uncovered all the holes starting with those furthest from the bridge. She adjusted as necessary, learning that as she lifted fingers, tones were drawn out, tribbled, or fluttered. The diversity pleased her enormously because she hadn’t realized an instrument with only six finger holes could produce so much sound.
There were things she knew as a musician – techniques – that she knew from other training and other instruments. So she spent bells playing with breath control, finger control, and bent notes to suit her taste. She found that her tongue played a big part and that she could slur and double-tongued easily enough. And even a vibrato in song worked on the flute which brought a grateful smile to her face. Then, quietly and carefully, she strove to find the minor pentatonic scale. It wasn’t intuitive like she thought it would be. It was close, but as she covered the holes and backed off, she found that the last fifth note of the scale wasn’t two finger holes covered closest to the bridge, but the first and third finger holes covered. It seemed that two finger holes covered the closet to the bridge producing an unruly sound that displeased her.
She found the major scale… the do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti…. Was easy enough. Do was five holes covered. Re was the first four, mi was the first three, and fa ended up being the first two and fourth hole covered. Sol was the first and third hole covered, while La was simply the second hole covered… and ti… ti was the hardest for Tazrae to find. She thought it elusive until she discovered it by trying random patterns as all holes were covered but the first and fifth released. Once she had the major scale figured out, she went to work on the diatonic scale.
It was similar, very similar to the major scale, but the breath control was different. And once that was worked out in her mind, she was able to play simple children’s songs and beginner things on the flute in a low throaty tone that complimented the wind and the sounds of the jungle that were rising in intensity now that night were slowly falling.
Then she improvised, dancing up and down octaves and mimicking Ixam vocalizations until that no longer held her interest. She finally took the flute from her mouth, ran her hands over its body one last time, and slipped it into the case she kept it in which was no more than a waterproof leather pouch big enough to accommodate it. She then leaned over and set it on the little table that sat beside the reclining couch under the palapa.
Stretching, she shifted where she sat, glanced at Bree to see if she was awake enough for a run yet, and signed. No, not yet, though it didn’t matter overly much. Taz could see a figure walking on the beach, slowly approaching and she wondered suddenly if the little gathered group of human and Ixam were going to get a visitor. Maybe someone would enjoy a nighttime walk with her in the jungle yet.
Words: 1292
