Music of the Night (Lance)

[Maya Frostfawn]

Timestamp: Fall 16, 523 AV Maya absently rubbed some dirt she had gathered into her skin, darkening it, making it harder to discern that she wasn't exactly... alive. As often happened when she was off work and had nothing to occupy her time, she found that she was bored. There wasn't much she wanted to do, needed to do, or could do in a city such as the one she now found herself in, and boredom crept in more often than not. But she really, really wanted to do something, needed to do something, or she may actually die for real this time... out of sheer boredom. So, she hastily cloaked herself, pulled the fabric of her attire around her lips to hide her lack of breath in this chill weather and headed out into the city with only a handful of coins in her pocket. She had heard that Sunberth held a handful of locations from which one could derive entertainment, if you could find your way there in one piece and had the coin, and since she had nothing better to do, decided she would try one of those locations out this evening and see if it could stave off her boredom, at least for a little while. She had all the long hours until the morning when she had to return to work to occupy, after all. And that was what? Eight hours at least? There was certainly no point in sitting at home and twiddling her thumbs or absently scrawling on her skin or in her new blank book when someone might just strike a chord, entertain her still heart. Maya stepped lightly through Sunberth's streets, her feet drumming against the earth as she wove through familiar paths as well as those less traveled. Gradually, she made her way to the less... run-down portion of town, where the upper crust of Sunberthian society, if such a thing could be said to exist, spent most of their waking hours... and those that weren't waking. Spent most of their hours because they couldn't be bothered with the riff raff of lower society. Before too long, she found herself in front of the doors she had only heard of before this day, the doors that led into the Scarlet Sanctum, which were guarded by a pair of burly, male bouncers, who looked to be less than thrilled by their existence. The bouncers peered down their hooked noses at her and demanded payment for entry, which she hastily produced from her pockets before she was waved inside and she strode within the doors to the Scarlet Sanctum. Maya immediately found herself in a far warmer place than she had left behind on the city's streets. She could hear a mixture of music, laughter, and glasses clinking radiating throughout the length of the parlor, which overlooked a large stage, offset by a smaller one, whose purpose became immediately clear to Maya as she made her way through the parlor and noticed the musicians playing upon its surface. Currently, there were a few violinists, cellists, a pianist, and a flutist playing a soft, playful melody meant to lighten the mood or perhaps... get people into a very specific one. Maya wasn't entirely sure, being so detached and out of touch with her emotions and never having been gifted with music or melodies. As Maya walked through the parlor, which was illuminated largely by candles, she realized, she took the time to look around and survey her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the expansive bar to her right, which looked to be well-stocked with a number of different wines and a beverage she could not immediately identify, as well as clean classes. A handful of patrons were seated at the bar, drinking, and Maya could tell they were well into their cups; they were both laughing and talking loudly and a few of them seemed like they were about to stumble out of their seats. It wasn't exactly something that called to her... drink. She couldn't exactly drink anymore either, and watching the people at the bar wasn't very interesting, so she moved toward the stage, where she hoped to find something far more interesting than what she had found within the parlor. As Maya approached the stage, the scent of leather, polished wood, and roses filled her nostrils. They twitched. Is that perfume? she wondered as she set her eyes on the stage, where she noticed several beautiful, lavishly dressed women... dancing? Maya frowned, she wasn't quite sure what she was seeing, and wanted to take at least a few more moments to survey before choosing to look away... or not. Word Count: 777

[Lance Windhelm]

Lance tapped his foot and moved his body lightly from side to side. He was playing a relaxing song, meant to lull people into a false sense of comfort before a whore would walk up and talk patrons into spending their money. From what Lance could see from stage, it wasn't a waste tonight. Some of the most beautiful women in Sunberth worked here selling themselves to the men, and some where very skilled, from what he has heard. He's yet to indulge himself and thought that me might not. He was a man, like to look at most beautiful women, but there was something about sharing that he didn't care for. Putting his parts where other had been, the thought made him cringe, but he could see how he could get that lonely at time. Plus the risk of pox or something worse was always a worry if you were going to pay for, "entertainment" they liked to call it. Completely legal in this part of the world, like most things in the nightmarish, hellscape that was Sunberth. At night Lance liked to curse at the storm God who was responsible for bringing him here.

Lance finished the melody and the girls on stage started to rotate for a few others as he disembarked the small space he worked from. Lance didn't like to drink on the job, so when he had made it to the bar he got a large cup of water and sucked it down. The flute had the tendency to dry is mouth to the point of pain. Most wouldn't think it, but after playing for so many hours it would really get to him. He was wearing common clothes, high dark brown leather boots that cane to the middle of his shins, and a longsword had dagger hung at his belt line. Lance had started to grow a mustache, he planned to curl the ends when it was long enough, but right now it was as thick as a five o'clock shadow.

When Lance turned around after taking a pull at the water that emptied the glass. He servayed the room. The normal ladies danced for the people in The Sanctum, the guards periodically patrolled the bar and watched the crowd, and everyone seemed to be in a fine mood. A lady caught his eye as he looked near his stage. She was wrapped up. It was cool outside, but it was nice indoors. It made him wonder. And that was enough for him to go and get a closer look.

Lance looked at the time. He had a bell before he had to be back up on stage for his last song. He walked over to the table adjacent to the ladies, sitting so he could see her from the side, facing toward the dancers on the large stage. Just as Lance sat down a working girl came over and sat on his lap.
"Looking for company, love?" She said. Lance pulled a copper coin from his pocket and put in her palm.
"No thanks, but stay beautiful." He winked.
With that she stood up and went to the next patron.

He hated to watch suck gorgeous people wast it on the rif raff, but hey. It was a free city, and people will be people. Pleasure and selling it was one of the oldest professions.

Lance looked over to the lady across from him. She looked pale, but what would you expect if you stayed wrapped up all the time? She watched the dancers.

"Come here often?" He asked. But he already new the answer. Now that he's gotten close, he could safely say he's never seen her before.

WC: 617

[Maya Frostfawn]

Maya's mind wandered as she listened to the music and watched the entertainers at work on their stage. As they twirled, her mind spun with them, dancing to faraway lands filled with snow. Light reflecting off its surface. Blinding in its brilliance. Snow falling from the sky in a flurry that mirrored the twirling on the stage. Endlessly dancing until they collapsed upon the bed that lay beneath her feet, the stark white sheet, marred only by the steps she left in her wake. It crunched beneath each of them, was steadily pounded down toward the earth, hinting at the dark dirt that lay beneath the bed of snow. Each step matched the steady beating of her heart. She could almost hear it now. Almost, feel it. Remember... a voice drew her out of her mind's wandering, and she turned to face it. The man who had produced the words, a simple question. A man who appeared to be in his late twenties, or perhaps his early thirties, with long brown hair swept back in a ponytail. Maya thought she could just make out the hint of a ribbon binding it in place. Green eyes; they reminded her of grass, and his skin, the dirt from which it sprung. It was weathered and worn, like soil that had dried and recently been turned by a farmer's hands, or his implements. "I can't say I've ever been," Maya responded as she continued to survey him, her eyes dancing over the length of his body, not much taller than her own. "And you? Do you come here often?" she inquired. A part of her doubted it, given the nature of his skin, it appeared to her that he spent more time outside than in, conducting hard labor beneath the sun's harsh light. But what she had seen earlier, when she had first arrived and taken the time to study the musicians, suggested that he was one of them and not one of those who came seeking entertainment. To drop their hard-earned coins into another's hands. Perhaps he had been something else in another life, or another part of it, for he didn't appear to straddle the realm that rested between life and death as she did, but in this part of it, he had taken on the mantle of a musician, at least, part of the time. His fingers dancing deftly over the surface of his instrument as he played beside those of his kind. Had she the breath, beating heart, she might have been embarassed for asking questions with such an obvious series of answers, but then again, it was possible he did not work here often, or had just started working here recently. It was impossible to tell given the fact that she had never been to this establishment before. "The music is nice enough," she commented absently. "Although, I'm not quite sure what to make of the other entertainment just yet." A pause. "Does it suit your fancy? Or do other forms of entertainment call to you?" she inquired. Word Count: 511 Words

[Lance Windhelm]

He hadn't noticed before. Learning it this way frightened him. The woman he was talking to wasn't human, she wasn't even alive. He couldn't hear her heart beating, or breaths coming from her lungs. As he focused his listening more intently, he smiled but turned his head slightly. He tried to make it look as if the music was just too loud, smiled and bent forwards a bit, getting closer to the... thing. Questions pumped through his head like blood through a heart, what are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? How are you here? Is that your body or someone else altogether? If it isn't yours, where did you get it? He shook his head trying to focus on the moment before him, smiling all the same.

She spoke normally, but as he looked at her face he started to see the bags under her eyes, the darkness of her tongue, and the dirt that lightly covered her skin. He tried to stay calm but small beads of sweat started to pop up on his forehead and his stomach turned just a bit, he was starting to feel nervous. He only hoped it wasn't his time to leave the world. He has experienced many things these last few days, and worried this could be his undertaker, some monster that got in from The Wilds. Lance's hand casually went to his dagger, he wouldn't attack unless given a reason, but his senses were working over time.

"Oh, I work here. I actually will have to go up in a few minutes. I have been working the last few nights on and off." But he will surely change his schedule after this conversation, he thought. "The music is beautiful. What brings you here?" And are you here to kill someone? He thought. His ignorance painted a picture of murder and gore. He did his best not to share it though. Wiping the sweat off his face, patting it with his sleeve, he had been performing, sweat was normal... right? His heart pounded in his chest and his hands betrayed him with a light tremor.

WC: 356

[Maya Frostfawn]

"I suppose I did see you playing before," Maya commented absently as her eyes danced over the man's body. She noticed the shadow of his hand linger over the hilt of his dagger before it closed around it, but felt no sense of fear, for her heart did not beat and emotion was a thing that felt more like a distant memory than reality. His palms were white and trembling, as sickly as her own skin. And sweat was beginning to bead his brow, but this place didn't seem particularly warm. She frowned, not sure what to make of this occurence as she watched him wipe the sweat away from his brow with this sleeve. "Boredom," she responded simply, giving no further explanation than that. It seemed like more than enough, given the nature of her being, a lifetime that stretched endlessly into the future, and what she recalled from being human. The sense that you were not only wasting time, and bored if you failed to spend a single moment of time engaged in some activity or another. She wondered if this man was like that, or if it had only been her. As more sweat trickled down the length of his brow, she asked, "are you feeling unwell?" A pause. "I can try and find what ails you," she continued, "although I lack my usual supplies." The doctor's supplies, but that's a small technicality that lacks the weight of something that need be mentioned. "I work as a medical assistant and should be able to help," she finished. Although she was off the clock and not truly in the mood to work on the injured during the time that was meant to be spent nurturing herself, it would be good practice and perhaps, keep this man from sweating all over the place, and over her if he got too close, running the risk that her flimsy disguise could run away with it. No matter how he replied to her suggestion of a rudimentary examination, she would ask. "Do they often play music in this vein?" before pausing, adding. "And what brought you into its fold? Got you interested in music in the first place? Was it the nature of your family to engage in music? Or something else entirely?" she asked as her eyes settled on the man's own and did their best to catch them. Word Count: 399

[Lance Windhelm]

Lance's nerves were still on end as he spoke with the thing. He almost wished he was in private so he could be more forward about what he was thinking. Instead he opted to just continue his conversation with the thing till it was his turn to play on stage. His hand still resting on his dagger.

She noticed his sweating. The small streams that worked their way down his brow and into the crooks of his cheeks. His hair would have started to mat to his head if he was wearing his hat, instead the sweat beaded across his hair line and started to wet the collar of his shirt.

'I'm feeling great. Just a little warm after playing on stage... I don't think I'm sick anyway. Why is there something going around you think?" He said, pretending to be interested, inside he was counting down the minutes till it was his turn on stage. "You work for a doctor... really? Where about?" and can he help you, maybe? Lance thought. "Money brings me here love, money. It makes the world go round, no? Can't do anything with out it. Society would vanish. People would go crazy, I'd be out of a roof over my head." Lance's heart started to calm a bit.

The woman seemed like a curious thing, asking so many questions. Was she just asking them to be polite before she attacked? Was she just scoping the scene out, wanting to know more about a target? The questions pumped through his head. He was surprised his heart was starting to slow in its beat. The situation was no more dangerous than it was before, it could have been his body simply getting used it. Or it was her lulling him into a false sense of security.

"I started to play the Flute a couple years ago. Just picked it up one day and fell in love. It reminded me of a chisel, molding people's emotions with each blow." Lance smiled. "What about you, what drew you into the medical field?" the word "medical" had an exaggeration on it. "Did your family lead you down that set of skills, or what it something else?" he parroted her questions.

As it left his mouth a man yelled drunkenly behind them. Even with Lance's astute hearing he couldn't make out what he had said. But the man grabbed onto a woman that was close to him, and who was scandalously dressed. She screamed and there was a scuffle as chairs moved and a glass broke. Lance looked back as the things unfolded. He wasn't too concerned, things like this happened all the time. The guards got there in quick order and pulled the man out of the building. Ruby came over to examine the young woman's arm, to be sure she was well enough to continue working.

WC: 478

[Maya Frostfawn]

Even though she had no way to know for sure, his words rang with a touch of dishonesty. But she made no comment on the matter, if the man wised to lie to her, the nuit would let him. It wasn't as though their conversation truly mattered within the grand scheme of things. They weren't close, weren't even friends. Or acquaintances. Just strangers, who were bound to remain that way. Two people whose time together would be a mere drop in a bucket. Especially for Maya, whose life stretched endlessly before her feet, while that of her conversational partner was hanging by a thread, ready to snap at a moment's notice. Without word, without warning. "There is always something this time of year," she commented, absently. "You know the Clinic?" she asked. "It's really the only place in town." A pause. "In the Den, Daggerhand territory." If the stranger had been in the city for any length of time, he was bound to know the place. "I doubt it's the only thing," she commented after a time. Considered his words a moment. "Some people seem to get by just fine by bartering." She smiled as he answered her, continued to converse despite the sweat, and turn the line of questioning onto her. "I can't say that they did. They were always far more interested in animals than they were people. And I suppose I've always been far more interested in people than animals," her smile widened. She wasn't entirely sure that was true, but what did it matter in a conversation that would prove to be as inconsequential as this? As she spoke, she ignored the commotion going on behind her. There was always something going on in Sunberth, and she had learned to ignore it, at least when she was in a public place and at less risk than when she was alone and wandering the city's streets on her way to work or something. "Do you normally repeat another's questions?" she thought to ask after another moment, once the commotion had died down. "Or is it only the case when you're tired or nervous?" she finished as her eyes flicked to the dagger he still had not released from his grip. Word Count: 373 Words

[Lance Windhelm]

“The clinic, sure.” Hs said. He may have known the general direction, but he hadn’t visited before. If he had maybe he would have seen the woman… thing before. The only injures he had sustained where to his ego and heart. Sunberth hung heavy on everyone it seemed, though in different ways.

When he had first gotten to Sunberth, the second night, had been a long one. He knew nothing of the city at that point. He was told by a sea captain to be careful, that the city could be a hard place. He told him that he even made his sailors travel in threes rather than let them go on liberty by themselves. But Lance, being young forgot those warnings. He decided to go out after dark, to explore the city. It was only four blocks or so from The Drunken Fish when a knife was pulled on him. He only had a few silver coins in his pocket, but the man that had him at point demanded them. He gave them with ease, not wanted to get hurt. Afterwards he learned quickly to keep his eyes to himself or to the ground, and to stay in after dark unless he was in extreme need for something. It was only shortly after that he had bought a sword and a dagger. He was never the same after that night.

“Bartering…” He wasn’t against it, as long as someone would accept his music as payment. It commonly entered deals, but not as the soul thing being sold. “I suppose. But there is something about gold. The sound of it. The way it feels in the hand… Can drive a man crazy.” He said. “Animals. Did you grow up on a farm of some kind?” He asked.

As the commotion behind them ensued Lance looked over, watching it unfold. The lady didn’t seem to be bothered at all. He wondered how long she had been in the city. To be that used to how Sunberth was took practice or just the giving up on life. He wondered which was for her. Did she have a life to be concerned about? Something was in there, animating the body, a soul? Or was it something else?

“I guess it just seemed like the natural flow of conversation.” He smiled. The sweat started to slow from his brow.

The woman was a puzzle. He wanted to solve it but the time was passing faster than he thought. He wanted to just pull her aside and ask the touch questions. Then one slipped out.

“What are you?” He said it softly. He wasn’t even sure if she could hear him. It came out like a whisper, a secret he wanted to share just with her. With the music and the incident, his words may have been lost under his breath. And at that his hand gripped around the hilt of his dagger. Partly to protect himself, partly to protect her. If she wasn’t something that wanted to hurt him, he surly wouldn’t want to bring the crowd on her on accident.

WC: 517

[Maya Frostfawn]

"There is something sad about it, isn't there? Man's attraction to a bit of metal whose only value lies in what we as a society has chosen to assign to it?" a pause as she considered her words. "For what value is there truly, in something we cannot eat or drink? Something we cannot use to build shelter or keep us warm? What is a coin when compared to the things that truly sustain us? Food and shelter? A roof over one's head? A blanket, warm clothes?" she shook her head. She couldn't remember if she had every truly understood the appeal of gold during life, but she certainly didn't get it now, even though she needed so few of the things she just listed. Yes, she understood that money was used to buy the things she just listed, but her issue with it wasn't so much what it could obtain, but its nature. Its base value. What value did it truly have when compared to food or water? A blanket? None, she felt, for it could not feed you when you were hungry, sate your thirst, keep you warm. It could do nothing but buy, and it could only buy because that was a system everyone had grown to accept. It was strange, when you really took the time to think about it. And quite probably, rather stupid as well, but she said nothing further on the subject. "Yes. We had a tiny stable and kept animals, pets as well. And the people around us had farms as well," it wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't entirely a lie either. She smiled as she noted the sheen on his skin, the sweat that still lingered on his brow. The music had begun to pick up, it flowed against her skull, but she barely felt it, and she barely heard the commotion that seemed as though it may be beginning to die down. She heard him speaking still, but the words, so soft, were largely lost in the sea of sound that enveloped them. She heard only one, "you?" The inflection made it seem as though it had been part of a question, but what question, she did not know. Frowning, she moved toward the musicians, as though drawn by their sound, or perhaps, she simply wished to get away from the main room. Whatever the case, she'd beckon with a single finger for him to follow, glance over her shoulder momentarily to see if he trailed in her wake as she neared the players and their music grew louder, not only from her approach, but because they had reached a crescendo. "What is it you asked me?" she inquired, as she finally settled, resting her hands on the back of the seat in front of her. Her eyes were set on him, unwavering. Waiting for an answer. Word Count: 479 Words

[Lance Windhelm]

Money. Coin and gold. It was an oddity when you thought about it. But if the question was on anything else Lance would be able to answer quiet easily, things that do not provide the necessities of life must have provided something else, Music for instance brought people together, stories shared those thoughts from generation to generation, the family dinner even, held the family together like a glue. If people plucked any of these from society they could pluck almost anything.

“Money, though a construct formed by the masses, is useful because it can be used to buy whatever it is I need. Say for instance I needed food, and I only had beads to trade. Though, the beads might not be useful to you, they might be useful to someone else, might hold value, but that doesn’t help my hunger.” Lance said, his finger to his chin, thinking. “But if you had food, and I had a gold coin, and you could use that gold coin to perches whatever it is you need, then we can strike a deal. It seems like a safe and valuable way to run things, no?” He responded in kind. He could be a deep thinker at times, and rather enjoyed it.

Philosophy was something he enjoyed on his off time. Thinking about life and how it came to be, or ethics and morals. Especially conversations that had them at their base, he found fascinating. A persons life, how they grew up with, what their parents views were, and what race they were, dictated a lot about how they viewed each subject. He liked to see what other thought, and sometimes he tried to challenge his own views with them.

As the women moved Lance followed her, she beckoned him with her finger. He couldn’t help but tighten his hand around his dagger in response. Did she hear him? What was it she wanted? But as she got closer she leaned in and asked him a question.

Lance was somewhat relieved, but also more nervous than before.

“What are you?” He said softly, drowned out by the music. “If you’d like, we can go somewhere a little more private. I assure you I mean no harm.” As long as you don’t mean me any. He thought. If the woman gave any indication she wanted to leave Lance would lead her into a private room in the back, a place that wasn’t so busy and usually where the musicians would prepare.

He would take a seat, the music dull through the walls. “How much do you know about the Gods?” He would start. He would go into how he knows she is dead, or at least the body she possessed was, and how he came to learn this. But he would have to start at the beginning.

WC: 472