52nd of Spring, 514 AV
It wasn’t until recently when she started to feel a sense of urgency in her stomach. She was holding in her left hand the wooden flute she had purchased from a vendor a couple seasons ago, her mind set on learning how to play it.
She had already proceeded to blow air into the mouth piece, but an inharmonious sound escaped the other side. She cringed at the dissonance, impaling herself on top of a pile of virtual disgust. She had never done anything like this before and so far her first try gave her no hope.
She tried again, crossing her legs as she sat on the floor inside her tent. This time, however, she placed one of her index fingers on one of the holes and another finger on another hole. She wetted her lips with her tongue and then pressed her mouth to the opening, blowing slowly, yet strongly.
Noise fluttered out of the instrument, scratching against her eardrums as it did. She squinted as if sunlight was piercing through the roof of the tent and scaring her eyes with its harsh glare. She sighed and set the instrument on the ground.
In her mind she tried to work through how she was going to go learning how to play such an object. It obviously wasn’t the most difficult thing to play. There were far more challenging instruments out there including the harp which she had no interest in testing her patience out on.
She didn’t understand why she had gotten the flute. She had wasted her money on it without even having the slightest clue how to play it. Although, what did she expect? Was she going to be gifted with the knowledge of music the instant she placed her lips to the mouthpiece?
She shrugged and propped her head up on her palm. Her arm rested on the inside of her knee as she thought over anything, any clues or details that could suffice to give her some guidance.
“Just mess around with it,” Ipisol chimed in.
Lenz smiled over at the girl, an epiphany forming amidst the clouds that ruined the sunshine in her brain.
“What a wonderful idea,” she said, praising the child for her loyal suggestions. She was always a big help. This was something that made the woman feel bad, however. It was she who was supposed to offer support and aid to Ipisol, not the other way around, for she was her guardian. However, sometimes to give something, one must accept something in return. It was unlikely, but it still occurred in everyday life.
“Thanks,” she murmured before picking up the instrument again.
She placed a ring finger on a hole lower down the object and one of her index fingers on a hole farther up. She then blew with her lips only slightly dampened. A trill fled out of the end, brightening her mood. It wasn’t fantastic, but it was definitely much better than the first time she had tried it.
“Wonderful advice, my dear,” she whispered before adjusting her position on the ground. She straightened her back and lifted her elbows so that they were parallel to the floor.
She continued to experiment with the various holes that littered the flute. Each one she placed her finger on caused a different sound to erupt from it.
“Strange,” she muttered to herself before an idea struck her down like a bag full of bricks. “Why don’t I busk for money in the middle of the city?”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Ipisol asked, brushing her auburn hair behind her ears. She was writing on a piece of paper in Lenz’s journal, her eyes glazed over with mild concentration. She looked fatigued, but in a studios way.
“On a whim of course,” the woman added, brushing her own luscious locks of scarlet curls behind her ears. She blushed slightly from the child’s comment before snatching her coat from the other side of the tent. She often got chilled more so than the average individual. She made sure to remember her shoes, slipping them on at the thought.
“You’re crazy enough to demand for attention to yourself when you know nothing of flute playing,” Ipsiol continued, smirking.
“And you’re crazy for not trying new things,” Lenz retorted, curling her upper lip slightly. How could you respond to something like that? She made sense that was obvious to anyone who thought to question it.
“I’m going to have fun,” she said, and she did just that. She left the tent, asking for good luck, which she didn’t get in return. She had zipped the tent’s door so that it was closed completely before sauntering through the Tent City.
She quickly merged with a group of bustling people, the flute held tightly in her hand. Her eyes were quickly scanning the crowd, trying to scout for a decent place to set up. She didn’t have anything to collect money with, but she highly doubted she would get any anyways.
Her spirits were increasingly high. Elation brimmed the top of her heart, the blood that pulsed through her veins corrupted by the sensation of eager happiness.
She didn’t care if she were to be insulted or not. She was merely doing this for herself and if she were to get paid for her attempts, it would only add more joy to her already jubilant mood.
Finally her eyes landed on an opening next to an old building. The windows were shattered, the shingles on the house rotted through, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t care for backdrops or kind sceneries. She simple rushed over to the area and began to play.
She pressed her fingers on the holes of the flute in a way like she had back at the tent. A sound that resembled much like that of a woman singing flew from the end of the instrument. She kept playing, trying out the occasional new technique as she did.
She messed up a few times, and received a ‘boo’ or two in response, but she never hesitated, never waved her fingers in doubt above the flute’s body. She played the only notes she knew, basic ones, but ones all the same.
She lifted her gaze only once throughout the entire time she played. It was then that her orbs of smouldering brown and seductive green locked with those of the sea frozen from cold despair. They were enticing, mesmerizing and captivated the young woman where she stood. She was stabilized, her fingers once moving frantically over the flute now still.
He was looking at her, but not in the way most men did. His eyes held things, descriptions, some of which she could not explain. Did they hold secrets? Was it hunger that swarmed his irises of was that just her imagination playing tricks on her grasp of reality.
Either way, she stopped playing altogether and took a step forward, almost running into a woman hurriedly jogging past.
“Watch it,” she spat.
Lenz diverted her attention to the woman in terms of apologizing, but she had already sped off. When Lenz lifted her gaze to try to find the man again, he wasn’t there.
Strange, she thought to herself. She was morally intrigued, yet remained confused as to why that was. Something inside her cracked, persisting to find him again. She willed herself to lose interest, but was rejected with intense ferocity.
Please come back.
