Common Vani Nari
51st of Spring, 514 A.V.
Mirahil Pass
OOCI am so sorry that this is so long. But seeing as this is likely the only post I am going to be able to have Gale do anything with his flute, I wanted to get at least something done before we get to the good stuff. The rest of my posts won't be so long and rambly hopefully.
It had been a long time it seemed since Gale had any time to himself. The recent seasons have been exceptionally busy for the artist, and he felt like he was running around trying to pick up shattered pieces of what use to be and trying to hold his current relationships up. Last season, the man was left with nothing but memories of his long lost bondmate, and because of such, had made some decisions that wasn't exactly the smartest. But because of such, he met a goddess and was forced to confess all of his deepest secretes to one of his only friends. Yes, he had been busy. Busy talking to others and just trying to stand up on his own two feet.
But this season, Gale found himself with unfamiliar amounts of free time. Nothing extraordinary had happened as of yet, besides a small bar fight at the beginning of the season. But other than that, the sailor found himself with hardly anything to occupy his time. Ricky had been busy with Martin and Telion, as well as training new Wave Guard. And-... Well, that was about it.
Instead of hanging around the Kelp Bar and spending what little he had on the salty beverage it served, Gale decided to do something more productive. He'll have more than enough time to hang at the Kelp Bar later, seeing as his birthday was coming up and all. Something more productive was good. Like babysitting. Ricky happened to stop by today and ask him to babysit Martin for the day, in which Gale was happy to oblige. Though, Gale really had been wanting to go for a walk. But that was okay. He could take Martin with him. The artist happily gathered his stuff, only taking one or two things with him this time, such as his eating knife, his cloak, flute, and music book. After all, he didn’t want to carry all his stuff when he had to carry Martin with him as well. But with that, he was off.
The blonde man slowly made his way down the wide path within Mirahil Pass. It was a route that Gale was all too familiar with, though it started with the basic path in which the caravans and common travelers walked. But after several chimes of walking, a small trail could be seen making its way into the wooded and more mountainous area of the Pass. It was a small trail, big enough for a single person, but it was a distinct path. One that had been traveled on numerous times, seeing as the man who created it had walked upon it for nearly a decade. A decade of walking back and forth along the lonely trail. But he enjoyed the path. After all, he was fond of walks. Very fond. It was one of the few ways he relieved stress.
Gale walked slowly down this path, listening to the crunch of the dirt and leaves under his boots, the light breeze ruffled the branches of the large pines and oaks of the Pass and the sound of a bird fluttered in the air, and of course Martin. Martin’s soft cooing and rustling made the man smile all along the way. The calmness of the air during the walk was a distinct contrast to the last time Gale had been down this trail. Though, he walked casually and with his equipment on his back and with Martin in his arms, he headed for the usual spot in which he came to.
Gale and Martin remained fairly undisturbed through their walk. He saw a squirrel scurry up a tree off in the distance, but nothing else stirred within the trees. Because of this, Gale came up to his usual spot fairly quickly, standing in front of a small stone in the middle of a small clearing. His blue eyes watched the stone, almost as if it would move. But it didn't. Because it was just a simple makeshift grave stone, roughly engraved with the name 'Hana'. Just a simple stone.
The widower stood there for several ticks before turning and walking over to a nearby tree. As he walked, he slipped his backpack off his shoulders and placed it on the ground before leaning up against the tree and sliding down it to sit. He crossed his legs and then settled Martin, with his blanket, into his lap. Martin appeared to be just as curious as ever, trying to grasp at anything he could, even trying to crawl out of his lap to get a handful of dirt. But Gale quickly scooped him up and placed him in his lap.
There was a unnatural silence for a tick. The bird off in the distance stopped it's song and even Martin appeared to be occupied enough to not make a sound. Gale raised an eyebrow. Then the bird returned to singing and the leaves continued to rustle, and as always, Martin giggled and looked around curiously like all babies did. This made Gale uneasy. He watched Martin for a few ticks, before he glanced around at his surroundings. Nothing was unusual, though the sailor opened up his backpack and pulled out his eating knife.
It was just a basic eating knife. One you would find in any common house hold. It had a wooden handle and a semi-dull blade that still managed to cut through solid foods. Though, in the grooves of the handle there were deep red stains, and the blade appeared to have been chewed on or knocked around. It was an old knife that had been through a lot. Like a wolf's shoulder. And a dog's spine.
Despite the memories that flushed through his head, Gale smiled at the knife. It was a plain smile that didn't appear to translate any sort of emotion besides content perhaps. Because there really wasn't much to it other than that. It had been a long time since Gale had returned to the Pass. He missed the long walk to and from, and now that he had more time on his hands, he was glad he was able to return to doing so. So long as no dogs decided he was their next meal. Again.
With the smile still upon his lips, the pessimist stuck the blood stained knife into the dirt next to him and turned to his backpack. Opening the pack, his hands shuffled and rustled through its inventory. Again, it was his usual stuff. Music book, flute, cloak, and some bread in case Martin decided he was hungry. Gale didn’t bring milk for he was sure he’d end up spilling it. But they wouldn’t be here long. It was more of just a visit really, so they would probably be back in the city before Martin would get hungry. Hopefully. But while he was here, Gale decided that he would be productive. The artist pulled out the small wooden flute and the music book.
The blonde man placrf the old music book in front of him and Martin, opening it to the first page. He took the flute and placed his fingers over each hole, like he remembered Hana doing. Thumb went on the bottom for support, index covered the first hole, the middle the second... He went all the way down, placing each finger on the designated hole until he got to his left hand. He placed his thumb on the bottom of the flute again, then his index on the next hole. Then he ran out of fingers.
Looking at the remaining three holes, Gale sighed. He probably wasn't able to play a lot of the notes because of his handicap. But that was alright. He wasn't planning on doing anything extraordinary with it.
After studying his fingers and the holes for a few ticks, Gale decided he had the right position. Before learning how to play any actual notes though, he wanted to see if he could actually make any sound first. Because if he couldn't make any sound, then he had a problem. He raised the instrument to his lips. Then Martin started to tug on his shirt.
Gale looked at the child and smiled, letting the instrument fall from his lips. "What are you doing, huh?" He chuckled, taking his lesser hand off the flute to take Martin’s hand in his. “ Do you want something to do? Hm?" Of course he did. Gale quickly rummaged through his bag, pulling out his small piece of bread and tearing off an even smaller piece for the baby to suck on. He held the child the piece with a smile, “ There you go. You can play with that." Martin appeared to take it happily. With Martin occupied for a little bit, Gale could return to the flute.
The man looked back at his flute, repeating the process of placing each finger individually on each hole, in which he did this much quicker this time. He made sure he had it right, raised the flute to his lips, and then remained there for a few moments. How did she blow into it again? His mind wondered through his memories, pulling out each image of Hana with her flute, finally remembering that she curled her lips to blow down into the hole. That didn't seem too hard.
Gale attempted to mimic her actions, curling his lips to try and blow into the hole. Though, it seemed that the hole was facing away from him. In attempts to make it easier for him to blow in it, he awkwardly twisted his wrists to rotate the flute. He blew into the hole with nothing but a measly little toot. The positioning of his hands were uncomfortable and Gale let his arms and hands relax. "How did she hold this thing for so long?" He muttered to himself, checking the memory once more.
Each finger on its own hole. Lips curled. Arms up. What did he do wrong?
Gale raised an eyebrow and closed his eyes to try and get a more clear image. Fingers. Lips. Arms... Wait a minute. She held the flute with her left hand crossing her body. Gale was holding it with his right hand crossing. Did that make a difference?
Since it didn't hurt to try, the man flipped the flute so it faced the other way. He placed his left hand on the flute first, putting his index on the first hole, skipping three holes, then placing his right hand down. It felt strange to hold it in such a way, seeing as he was left handed, but if that was how you played it then he shouldn't complain. He raised the wooden flute to his lips, noticing that the hole was no longer facing the other way.
So that was how you hold it. Interesting.
Satisfied with his final conclusion, the murderer started to blow in the flute, still getting the same strained, airy sound as before. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And that's all he needed. A start.
But this season, Gale found himself with unfamiliar amounts of free time. Nothing extraordinary had happened as of yet, besides a small bar fight at the beginning of the season. But other than that, the sailor found himself with hardly anything to occupy his time. Ricky had been busy with Martin and Telion, as well as training new Wave Guard. And-... Well, that was about it.
Instead of hanging around the Kelp Bar and spending what little he had on the salty beverage it served, Gale decided to do something more productive. He'll have more than enough time to hang at the Kelp Bar later, seeing as his birthday was coming up and all. Something more productive was good. Like babysitting. Ricky happened to stop by today and ask him to babysit Martin for the day, in which Gale was happy to oblige. Though, Gale really had been wanting to go for a walk. But that was okay. He could take Martin with him. The artist happily gathered his stuff, only taking one or two things with him this time, such as his eating knife, his cloak, flute, and music book. After all, he didn’t want to carry all his stuff when he had to carry Martin with him as well. But with that, he was off.
The blonde man slowly made his way down the wide path within Mirahil Pass. It was a route that Gale was all too familiar with, though it started with the basic path in which the caravans and common travelers walked. But after several chimes of walking, a small trail could be seen making its way into the wooded and more mountainous area of the Pass. It was a small trail, big enough for a single person, but it was a distinct path. One that had been traveled on numerous times, seeing as the man who created it had walked upon it for nearly a decade. A decade of walking back and forth along the lonely trail. But he enjoyed the path. After all, he was fond of walks. Very fond. It was one of the few ways he relieved stress.
Gale walked slowly down this path, listening to the crunch of the dirt and leaves under his boots, the light breeze ruffled the branches of the large pines and oaks of the Pass and the sound of a bird fluttered in the air, and of course Martin. Martin’s soft cooing and rustling made the man smile all along the way. The calmness of the air during the walk was a distinct contrast to the last time Gale had been down this trail. Though, he walked casually and with his equipment on his back and with Martin in his arms, he headed for the usual spot in which he came to.
Gale and Martin remained fairly undisturbed through their walk. He saw a squirrel scurry up a tree off in the distance, but nothing else stirred within the trees. Because of this, Gale came up to his usual spot fairly quickly, standing in front of a small stone in the middle of a small clearing. His blue eyes watched the stone, almost as if it would move. But it didn't. Because it was just a simple makeshift grave stone, roughly engraved with the name 'Hana'. Just a simple stone.
The widower stood there for several ticks before turning and walking over to a nearby tree. As he walked, he slipped his backpack off his shoulders and placed it on the ground before leaning up against the tree and sliding down it to sit. He crossed his legs and then settled Martin, with his blanket, into his lap. Martin appeared to be just as curious as ever, trying to grasp at anything he could, even trying to crawl out of his lap to get a handful of dirt. But Gale quickly scooped him up and placed him in his lap.
There was a unnatural silence for a tick. The bird off in the distance stopped it's song and even Martin appeared to be occupied enough to not make a sound. Gale raised an eyebrow. Then the bird returned to singing and the leaves continued to rustle, and as always, Martin giggled and looked around curiously like all babies did. This made Gale uneasy. He watched Martin for a few ticks, before he glanced around at his surroundings. Nothing was unusual, though the sailor opened up his backpack and pulled out his eating knife.
It was just a basic eating knife. One you would find in any common house hold. It had a wooden handle and a semi-dull blade that still managed to cut through solid foods. Though, in the grooves of the handle there were deep red stains, and the blade appeared to have been chewed on or knocked around. It was an old knife that had been through a lot. Like a wolf's shoulder. And a dog's spine.
Despite the memories that flushed through his head, Gale smiled at the knife. It was a plain smile that didn't appear to translate any sort of emotion besides content perhaps. Because there really wasn't much to it other than that. It had been a long time since Gale had returned to the Pass. He missed the long walk to and from, and now that he had more time on his hands, he was glad he was able to return to doing so. So long as no dogs decided he was their next meal. Again.
With the smile still upon his lips, the pessimist stuck the blood stained knife into the dirt next to him and turned to his backpack. Opening the pack, his hands shuffled and rustled through its inventory. Again, it was his usual stuff. Music book, flute, cloak, and some bread in case Martin decided he was hungry. Gale didn’t bring milk for he was sure he’d end up spilling it. But they wouldn’t be here long. It was more of just a visit really, so they would probably be back in the city before Martin would get hungry. Hopefully. But while he was here, Gale decided that he would be productive. The artist pulled out the small wooden flute and the music book.
The blonde man placrf the old music book in front of him and Martin, opening it to the first page. He took the flute and placed his fingers over each hole, like he remembered Hana doing. Thumb went on the bottom for support, index covered the first hole, the middle the second... He went all the way down, placing each finger on the designated hole until he got to his left hand. He placed his thumb on the bottom of the flute again, then his index on the next hole. Then he ran out of fingers.
Looking at the remaining three holes, Gale sighed. He probably wasn't able to play a lot of the notes because of his handicap. But that was alright. He wasn't planning on doing anything extraordinary with it.
After studying his fingers and the holes for a few ticks, Gale decided he had the right position. Before learning how to play any actual notes though, he wanted to see if he could actually make any sound first. Because if he couldn't make any sound, then he had a problem. He raised the instrument to his lips. Then Martin started to tug on his shirt.
Gale looked at the child and smiled, letting the instrument fall from his lips. "What are you doing, huh?" He chuckled, taking his lesser hand off the flute to take Martin’s hand in his. “ Do you want something to do? Hm?" Of course he did. Gale quickly rummaged through his bag, pulling out his small piece of bread and tearing off an even smaller piece for the baby to suck on. He held the child the piece with a smile, “ There you go. You can play with that." Martin appeared to take it happily. With Martin occupied for a little bit, Gale could return to the flute.
The man looked back at his flute, repeating the process of placing each finger individually on each hole, in which he did this much quicker this time. He made sure he had it right, raised the flute to his lips, and then remained there for a few moments. How did she blow into it again? His mind wondered through his memories, pulling out each image of Hana with her flute, finally remembering that she curled her lips to blow down into the hole. That didn't seem too hard.
Gale attempted to mimic her actions, curling his lips to try and blow into the hole. Though, it seemed that the hole was facing away from him. In attempts to make it easier for him to blow in it, he awkwardly twisted his wrists to rotate the flute. He blew into the hole with nothing but a measly little toot. The positioning of his hands were uncomfortable and Gale let his arms and hands relax. "How did she hold this thing for so long?" He muttered to himself, checking the memory once more.
Each finger on its own hole. Lips curled. Arms up. What did he do wrong?
Gale raised an eyebrow and closed his eyes to try and get a more clear image. Fingers. Lips. Arms... Wait a minute. She held the flute with her left hand crossing her body. Gale was holding it with his right hand crossing. Did that make a difference?
Since it didn't hurt to try, the man flipped the flute so it faced the other way. He placed his left hand on the flute first, putting his index on the first hole, skipping three holes, then placing his right hand down. It felt strange to hold it in such a way, seeing as he was left handed, but if that was how you played it then he shouldn't complain. He raised the wooden flute to his lips, noticing that the hole was no longer facing the other way.
So that was how you hold it. Interesting.
Satisfied with his final conclusion, the murderer started to blow in the flute, still getting the same strained, airy sound as before. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And that's all he needed. A start.
Just as long as Matt gets mad somehow during it all. XD
