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  1. #21
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    The Rambler's Avatar

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    Name
    Henry
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    Henry blinked twice when he was returned to the ground, firmly planted once more, and one eyebrow started to rise. There hadn't been an admonishment tied to the action, which was what Matilda or Adrianna would have done if they'd seen him leaning like that, just the motion to set him back down on the ground.

    As he held onto the table to steady himself from the unexpected movement, he felt soft fingers dance against the back of his hand, gentle strokes that slid across his like silk. Both eyebrows shot upwards in bemusement as he looked at the brazen young woman, and tilted his head to one side as he considered her. One corner of his mouth curled up as he let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

    "You speak like I've had a plethora of relationships, which is far, far from the truth Miss Yvonne. I think the closest I've been with a woman who wasn't Adrianna, who is a sister to me, was when that Dhampir I mentioned decided if she couldn't feed on the bandits she should feed on me." Henry's free hand brushed the side of his neck where fangs had pierced his skin, and he suppressed the shudder that accompanied the memory. Instead of dwelling on that, he focused on the young woman beside him, bright blue eyes peering at her intently.

    "And I suppose you have an ally in me, yes. I know Mother Matilda can be a gruff woman, but she does care. I'm sure she'll warm up to you while you're here, and even if she doesn't admit it, she will probably be happy to have some more help with the little ones." It was something that tore at Henry at times, in truth. He knew Matilda and Adrianna needed help here, more than what the teens like Lethro could give. But he also knew that he couldn't stay for very long - remaining in one place for any significant amount of time drove him mad, and his wanderlust had resulted in a fair few misadventures when he was growing up. Matilda attributed half of the white in her hair to age - and the other half to Henry scaring her to death.

    In any case - Henry was not a fool. He wasn't sure why, but Yvonne seemed interested in him, enough to be a bit forward in her actions. Growing up with the others had given the musician a glib tongue, but that was all he'd gotten practice with - teasing and flirting was safe for teens growing up with no privacy, after all. He inhaled slowly, and thought he caught a faint whiff of metal and smoke, likely clinging to his guest.

    A soft exhale, and he chuckled. "More than that though? Perhaps time will tell. I may be a bard, but I'm more of a realist than to believe in love at first sight. I-" Henry paused a moment, and swallowed at a lump that had formed in the back of his throat, before he pressed on, pushing the years old grief back down and covering it with a bright smile. "I know that relationships are things that are built, and rarely do sudden things thrive. Careful, tender nurturing leads to lasting ones." He rubbed the side of his cheek, and his smile became a bit lopsided.

    "Of course, this is coming from someone with a dearth of relationships, so take that with a pound of salt." Henry chuckled after he spoke, his tilted smile a bit rueful.

  2. #22
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
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    On the surface, skin-deep, her demure glances and brazen wordplay expressed her desire for a genuine human connection. Figuratively and literally she believed a human connection was the missing link in her life, the solution to a state of depression that had plagued her from childhood. She believed it to be a way to bring about positive change in her own life, and in turn enable her to create positive change in the lives of others; at least for those deserving. Until Yvonne could find this person with whom she could simply be herself with, someone to share her emotions, thoughts - share herself with, it would prove difficult to affect others in a positive way. If she couldn’t help herself who was she to help anyone else?

    Deep down, like the stone she had come to know intimately throughout her youth, so too was she as hard as stone. The half-and-halfling willed her racing heart to slow its beat and braced her mind for inevitable rejection. She told herself it was the only possible outcome. She crushed any fleeting hope of acceptance she was holding onto like a fluttering butterfly - colourful and free - beneath a rock. In this way her hope was already squashed when the time came to endure his response. Henry could not devastate a woman who expected the worst when it came to love interests.

    Yer being silly. He not be interested in ye tha same way yer interested in him, ye know that. So many telltale signs before yer eyes and still ye put yer heart on tha line for him. Yer a silly fool. Ye should have taken tha hints, listened ta those dismissive snorts when his family pried and enquired about us earlier. It doesn’t matter how many times ye bat yer eyelashes, nothing ye try will sway him ta love ye. Ye have no chance with him stupid girl. He be too good for tha likes of ye and ye know it.

    Henry shook his head and laughed gently, dithered from her proposal and talked his way around it to begin with. Yvonne carefully withdrew her caressing fingertips, easily reading into his body language and simply let her mismatched black hand rest next to his tanned white. The hybrid listened to the way he spoke to her, gazed into his earnest, fixed focus on her and every word he spoke was essential in her mind. He was spending breath on these words with her now but they may have been the last she would have the pleasure of hearing, after tonight. Mayhap he would think it better if they went their separate ways, and that would be his right to affect. She was a guest in his home and she had been rather undisguised with her intent.

    Yvonne was awaiting the moment when the bard would certainly spurn her - outwardly warm and smiling, inwardly cold and hardened. When the battering ram of rejection never arrived, and in its place was a definitive maybe, let’s wait and see, perhaps time will tell; the diminutive drow was ill-prepared. Henry’s considerate response, an offering of words of wisdom beyond his and her years, mindful to leave her feelings intact was a javelin throw over her carefully constructed barricade. A tear for each of her silver eyes welled and spilled, two teardrops of happiness down her cheeks. She held her smile well, but otherwise didn’t convey what those tears meant, too taken aback by such an unusual outcome.

    Wait, he never gave me a no. What does it all mean? A bard who doesn’t believe in tha poetry of love at first sight? Relationships are built? He thinks ours be worth careful, tender nurturing? This be his cue ta say ‘not even if ye were tha last woman alive mixed breed,’ or ‘nothing about ye be attractive ta me black-skin,’ but … ever tha gentleman he didn’t say anything mean. That must have been difficult for him, never having been together with another, and yet refraining from taking advantage of me.

    Henry had neither denied nor accepted her and she admired him all the more for it. Yvonne was learning that humans could be highly unpredictable creatures. They comprised such a wide-ranging span of ideals and principles, there was no pattern to the emotions she felt for them, no order to the thoughts which clouded her head for them. With every meeting of a new human, everything she’d established from earlier encounters with their race was upturned. It seemed nothing was certain - when compared with their kin - which inspired both fear and curiosity. She wiped one of her cheeks clear of its tear-trail and paid the other no mind.

    “Yer words humble me dear,” Yvonne managed at last. She was obviously having trouble saying the things she needed to say, normally charismatic and never skipping a beat with a witty remark. Henry’s beliefs on relationships were the wisest words she’d heard him speak, and his was a compelling perspective on how to form bonds with others. Yvonne’s own experience was altogether different. She’d made her way through the world swinging her personality about like a charisma-mallet, and in doing so discovered people either loved or hated her. She was more than willing to try something different in this case, especially a suggestion from Henry.

    “Truth be, I’ve not shared a romantic relationship with another,” Yvonne persisted, but she recognized she needed to let the topic subside. He concealed it skillfully yet the trace of sorrow hiding behind his smile was a waving warning flag which she would do well to heed. It was a conversation which he could raise if he ever felt comfortable doing so. For all of her passion and personality she reined herself in, finally letting her silver eyes fall to the table. She changed the subject to the one he loved the most.

    “Ye know, where I came from … the odd one out be me too. Tha little ones might have different aspirations, but they say music be tha language of us all,” she articulated with a brand new grin, looking up to him again.

    “Everyone be in bed, but mayhap we could find a secluded place. Ye could give me a lesson in playing yer fiddle?” She looked into his eyes to convey her honesty, nibbling her lower lip with anticipation of his answer.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 05-27-2018 at 11:01 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  3. #23
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    The Rambler's Avatar

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    Whatever Henry had expected in response to his words about a relationship, it hadn't been tears - no, he had for a very, very long time done his level best to never bring tears to another person. His smile became a little fixed for a moment before he reached up and brushed one thumb across her cheek, wiping at the tears after she had done so. He held his hand against her cheek for a moment, studying her intently. He wasn't sure what kind of thoughts that he had triggered inside the young woman - he was no mind reader, to delve into the surface thoughts of another with ease. What he could see was that she was conflicted, a trace upset and bracing herself for something. What it was, he didn't know.

    But it didn't seem to come, because there had been a moment of shock and confusion in her eyes, before she teared up. Now if only Henry could figure out why it was that she had begun to cry, he could hopefully avoid causing it in the future. He took in a deep breath slowly, and sat back, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. She said she’d been the odd one out, hm? The story behind that was bound to be an interesting one - she was from Alerar, so it wouldn't have been her skin tone that did it. Was her height truly an issue for -

    Henry stared at her blankly for a moment when she asked her question, then an amused smile twisted his lips and he raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together, studying her over them. “Now now Miss Yvonne. I don't think we know each other well enough for you to play my instrument.” He grinned impishly at her, before pushing himself back and away from the table. One hand reached out to the young woman, offering her a helping hand to come to her feet.

    “Though I suppose if you want to hear some music before turning in for the night, I can oblige you. I don't know if I know any tunes that would be too familiar to you, but I'm always willing to play.” He gave her a gentle smile as he held out his hand. Hopefully, taking her up on the request for music would help the strange mood she seemed to be in. In the back of his mind he was already trying to figure out what kind of music she might like. Would she prefer livelier tunes? Did she appreciate slower, solemn chords? He had no issue with experimenting - while the children might have been herded off to bed, he was still wide awake.

    Likely a result of the fact that he didn't really have a set sleep cycle any more - if anything, he tended to be awake later in the day. Evenings were, after all, one of the times when Henry did well; finding a tavern or an inn that didn't have a musician already ensconced there was usually a good way of getting some pay for an evening. While he had no issues with busking - playing in the streets for passerby - Corone and Scara Brae tended to be a bit too warm for people to appreciate street music in the day.

  4. #24
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
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    Henry’s comforting palm against her cheek was a mercy more telling than any man had revealed to her before.

    Her mother had often shown her this kindness, taking the time to wipe her tears away and hold her close, because the lives they lead were marred with cruelty. She had understood how her daughter felt. Abel was a man who had bestowed her life with wonderful new experiences. There was one time this gesture of kindness would have been welcome from him, but he had to depart and chose to support her in a different way.

    The minstrel reached out to her himself, gently touching her face and clearing her cheek of tears. She’d had to cross the known world to find someone willing to comfort her like this.

    Yvonne’s breathing ceased.

    Closing her achromatic eyes she delicately settled the black skin of her cheek against his hold. It was such a simple, tender gesture - it took but a moment of one’s time, but conveyed more than words could - explained and proved so much about a human. Words could be lies and even facial expressions could be feigned, but to fake a comforting hand such as this? It was impossible, unprecedented. Indifference was perhaps the most difficult quality to conceal of all. Henry proved he was a compassionate, kind soul in that instant. So many of her assumptions became truths.

    The teary-eyed woman inhaled again, her breath still catching as his one-liner punchline took her completely by surprise. Her lips gaped, closed, opened to riposte him again, but her form was well and truly unready. The half-and-halfling’s mind was a vulnerable whirlpool of swirling, twirling thoughts, freely flowing but unusually unprepared to pluck the one retort she needed from its vortex. She’d not met a man whom had this advantage over her, and even Henry had only acquired it during this very conversation.

    Henry one, Yvonne one. Tha tally be all tied up ladies and gentlemen.

    A doting smile played across her lips, broadened her cheeks. Any thought of tears, even happy tears had elapsed. Henry filled her with such fondness and warmth. She was overdue for poking fun at her poor word choice and he deserved to reclaim his ground and send her reeling. A lucid blush coloured her expression and she looked away from him temporarily, tried to gather herself and respond. No dice. She licked her lips to moisten them to speak, but that embarrassed her even more, her thoughts still swirling about his instrument.

    “I didn’t mean--” she began, but it was far, far too late for redemption now and she knew it. “I only meant ye could show me how ta play. I be little, if I sat on yer lap--”

    Yvonne’s silver eyes widened with emotion akin to horror. She immediately shook her head in an extremely hurried manner, mouthing the words no, no, but thankfully catching herself and erupting into giggly bliss. Who was this human who could counter-riposte her word-thrusts and disarm her so easily. This wasn’t over! She grinned at him, shaking her head in a measured, regrouping way.

    “I should concede before I find myself more tha fool,” the blushing hybrid articulated, a redeeming sentence among blunders. Yvonne gratefully accepted his hand, his willing rescue from her self-inflicted embarrassment.

    “If ye know how ta play a ballad, most likely I’ve listened to it at an inn somewhere between here and home,” the Alerian mused. “It always be tha slow, sentimental tunes that take me by ear. I relate with tender melodies and undertones of hope inspire me.” It wasn’t always best to simply tell a man what you wanted, but in this case she believed it would help him. The world of music was boundless, and even a fiddle was capable of sound without limit.

    She continued to think back throughout her nights spent listening to bards and musicians. They were part and parcel with the career of her youth. Minstrels and innkeepers had always worked side by side, in tandem; one enlivened the spirits of travellers and the other drowned their sorrows with spirits. One lulled their minds with peaceful melodies while the other provided comforting pillows and restful beds.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  5. #25
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    "Hmm, and here I was thinking that fools were the music players." Henry was grinning a bit, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he chuckled and pulled her to her feet. The woman was blushing fiercely at the moment, and the musician couldn't really blame her -one after another, her mouth fumbled and slipped up, and things spilled out that were could easily be taken... in an entirely different manner. However - he wasn't one to mercilessly tease Yvonne. She wasn't one of his 'siblings' after all, he didn't know how she might react to barbs and quips. Mayhaps in time, if they got to know each other better, he would be more comfortable with teasing her, but that was a consideration for the future. For now - he would let her request for music stand.

    "I have to say, I'm probably not a very good teacher, in honesty. Music came naturally to me, always has, and I've learned that that makes it difficult to pass music on to others who don't have the same knack. Everyone has their own talents after all, and music is mine." He gave her a warm smile, and nodded his head back towards the hall. "There's a few rooms towards the other side of the orphanage where I can play for you without bothering the others. Mother Matilda has a strict rule about playing near the little ones when they're trying to sleep." As he let her recover her balance - mentally, more than physically at the moment - Henry strode over to where he had hung his pack, and deftly removed his fiddle from its case on the side of his bag. A moment later the bowstick slid out as well, and he turned back to her with a patient smile on his lips. She seemed to have recovered while he was turned around, and was now watching him with those enigmatic silver eyes.

    So, she preferred soft, sentimental music, hope and warmth spoke to her. Well - Henry tended to prefer energetic music himself, but he had no problems at all with playing something a bit more sedate. Blue eyes sparkled with an inner warmth as he bowed slightly, gesturing for her to follow him before he started walking, at a slow, steady pace as his fingers nimbly danced along the instrument, caressing it as he checked it over. Knobs twisted, strings tightened and loosened under his expert touch, and as the two of them walked he gave the strings a few experimental plucks, making the fiddle begin to hum. Soft notes filled the air - not enough for a melody, and certainly not how a fiddle was properly played, but small, pleasant sounds bouncing gently around the two of them as they walked.

    The room that Henry led the way to was a fair bit of a walk away - Mother Matilda was actually rather firm about playing music away from where people sleep, if you were going to play after the small children were put to bed, and had designated rooms on the other side of the mansion from the bedrooms, as he had said. She had then paid to have thick material put in the walls, to muffle the sounds of music - really, to keep the children from using it as a reason to stay up. Not that Henry complained - he had often used these rooms to practice late at night, when he was unable to sleep for one reason or another, and having somewhere he could go and not disturb others had frequently been useful.

    So the door that Henry opened was thick and heavy, and lead to a room that had clearly seen use over the years. Well-worn furniture sat around the room - chairs at various heights, with small stands scattered about. Against one wall hung a large cabinet, currently shut firmly, and beside it stood a simple piano. In one corner was a standing harp, which was clearly older than the other objects in the room - and the frame was crafted from metal, mixed and built so that the light from the hall scattered along it. The musician blinked when he realized that the room itself was dark. He knew where things were mostly from memory, but the light from the doorway showed that things had been moved about since he was last here.

    “Ah, whoops. A moment. I need a bit more light than this to play.” He chuckled sheepishly and moved a bit further down the hall, and shifted his bowstick and fiddle into one hand so that he could bring one of the small lanterns back with him. He carried this into the room, and set it on one of the chairs in a corner of the room - the light casting dancing, flickering shadows about the chamber as he turned and gestured to one of the chairs. “Here now, take a seat Miss Yvonne. Sadly, my lap isn’t available.” He grinned - he couldn’t help that one - then tucked himself up onto one of the taller chairs, long legs folding up underneath him onto one of the rungs of the chair. His fiddle was placed atop his shoulder and he closed his eyes as he sorted through the tunes in his head. Finally he settled on one and, and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

    Fingers began to shift - and instead of immediately setting the bow to the strings, the musician instead softly plucked, his fingers making the chords dance out. The stick would come in later - not yet, not yet. Soft steady, and a bit mournful to begin with, but he thought she might enjoy it.




    [Linkage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rn_rznQkJjY - the song he's playing begins at 37:30, a rendition of the Skye Boat]

  6. #26
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
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    21
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    Grey Dwarf
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    Female
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    Alerar

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    Yvonne followed Henry’s lead to the play testing sounds of his fiddle, each note a promising suggestion that he might play a song for her soon, when they arrived at where they were going. The other side of the orphanage was further away than she expected; more than half of the old manor seemed to be empty of life, awaiting a time when orphans were so common these rooms would need to be revitalized for their purposes. The hybrid imagined - as the doors were closed - that they concealed tidy but dusty states of disuse on the other side.

    It would take a war, a bloodbath to put all these rooms to use. She silently prayed in her own way, that such a catastrophic event would never occur in her lifetime.

    The jovial minstrel threw wide a door and introduced his crossbreed companion to a wondrous place, hidden away in the deepest, furthest corner of the household. A room cluttered with instruments and stands one would read sheet music from, with both comfortable and practical furniture close by. An antique harp expected attention and respect in its corner, but it appeared so historic and valuable that Yvonne wouldn’t dare touch it. Perhaps it belonged to Mother Matilda herself, or was a possession passed down through her bloodline.

    The deep dwarf’s silver eyes easily understood the darkness before them. The outlines and silhouettes of every piece of furniture and object in the music room essentially highlighted for her, albeit in vision of greyscale and grey edges. Henry brandished an oil lantern with a little flickering flame, and as though he had a sixth sense for her light sensitivity he set it down on a chair, far from her vulnerable eyes. The light source made for a confusing alteration from crystalline darkvision and perfect clarity to a murky mixture of both lights and darks, a dreamy blur that she delighted in, so long as the bard remained to guide her and she didn’t look directly into the lantern light.

    Henry offered a complimentary spot for her to sit, and simultaneously backhanded her with another quip. The duality of his words spoke to her as much as the words themselves. Her cheeks ached from the many times she had smiled and grinned tonight, and yet she helped herself to another. Yvonne’s white teeth flashed toward him, from the darkness of the room and the blackness of her lips as she turned away. She never did take up his offer of a comfy seat on the sideline. He climbed onto a tall, stool-like chair to play while she drifted, exploratory about the room.

    The half-drow, half-dwarf’s soft fingertips graced the wooden key cover of the piano. Henry began to strum such moderate, dulcet notes that soothed away all of the night’s stresses, of fitting in and becoming accepted at the orphanage. Her anxiety and tension washed away on the current of a melodious river. The song he played was idyllic, peaceful. She had heard it once before, the ballad’s rhythm coming back to her from a time long ago.

    Yvonne was a woman more inclined to seek forgiveness than permission. She respectfully took a seat in the dark, lifted the piano cover and looked over the numerous keys midway through the melody. The piano called to her, though she had never played it, and certainly didn’t have the long fingers for it - it called her to try. The half-and-halfling’s dark finger tested a low note, miraculously in time with a low note of Henry’s. At one of the song’s many higher notes she tried a high note, and with that range recognized the instrument made some sort of sense in her mind.

    A complete novice of musicianship, she drew upon her experience of dance to follow along with the tune. Her hands were a little shaky, afraid to ruin the beautiful song he was bestowing upon her ears, but her fingers would not be silent. She managed the rhythm somewhat clumsily, a note out of place here, an octave lower than it should be there. Nevertheless her effort was deliberate and thoughtful, passable even, to the human ear. It wasn’t a particularly complicated song, gradual and sweet-toned; a perfect place for her to start.

    The song came to an end all too soon. She wanted it to go on forever, but refrained from letting her fingers get carried away.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 06-12-2018 at 09:30 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  7. #27
    Member

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    The Rambler's Avatar

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    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
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    Human
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    Corone

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    Music and Stone.


    Henry let the last notes of the song fade away, soft and gentle on the still air of the room, bis eyes closed. He drew in a slow, steady breath, and exhaled, breaking the hold the music had had on his audience of one. A slight smile grew on his lips as he opened his eyes and looked at Yvonne, who was now standing beside the piano, her hands slowly retracting from the outstretched position they had been in while she played. The musician let his fiddle slide downwards to rest on his lap, his bright blue eyes locking onto her silver ones.

    “Well now. It seems you have some experience with music yourself, don't you Miss Yvonne? Though I'd dare say that your history with it isn't on the performance side, no.” His gaze broke to scan her up and down, intently bearing down on her. The accompaniment hadn't been quite right, though if she wasn't a musician herself she probably wasn't aware of it. His eyes slid down to her legs, studying them as they emerged from beneath her skirt, then roved back up to meet her own gaze once more.

    “No, no. I'd say you either sing, or dance, to music, don't you? I could see you being good at either of those, and you have an ear for music that shows you are used to listening to it, but not playing it. You did better than most of the little ones here, so you have been exposed to music and have an appreciation for it. But - differing instruments aren't meant to be fully playing the same notes, they have different roles in songs.” He stood up suddenly, his legs unfolding smoothly and swiftly. A step, two, and he was standing close to her, but not too close, as he peered down at her, his fiddle resting against the outside of his thigh.

    “Yes, you have a voice that is quite pleasant to listen to, and your legs muscled well - you could be either. I wonder which it is, then. Hmm.” He grinned at her, leaning in for a moment - before pulling back and away, smoothly sliding back on fleet feet to give her space beside the piano once more.

    “Well now, Miss Yvonne! I have given you a slow tune. Now, let me give you one that I quite like, something with a bit more energy. Let the music take you, hmm?” He grinned broadly as he swept around the room, moving the chairs and stools scattered about to the outside edge, clearing a wide space in the center of the room. He turned to her, still bearing that wide, energetic grin,as he practically leapt back to her. The man rested the fiddle and stick atop the piano, and stood behind her. “Here. I'll show you this.” His hands came forward and caught hers, bringing them back to the piano keys.

    The keystrokes he showed her weren’t complicated - a repetitive set of notes, back and forth along the ivories. His fingers danced across the piano and her fingers as he showed her which to press. Then, abruptly he moved back, snatching up his fiddle once more. He couldn't help his excitement - none of the others had ever shown an interest in the music, not enough of one to want to accompany him. Now that he had someone who was at least willing to play along once, a strange kind of frenzy was settling over the man.

    A wide, vivid smile stretched Henry’s cheeks as he brought his fiddle up. His right foot began tapping the tempo that he had shown her on the piano - and then he was off, bright notes filling the room with their energy, his excitement spreading through the music.


    [linkage: https://youtu.be/1BQTxFShmxA. He is also unwittingly using The Sound of Music, his passive ability to spread the mood of his music to listeners. Yvonne can shrug it off of she wants to.]

  8. #28
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
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    21
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    Alerar

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    “Of course. Music finds me wherever I go. It made itself heard in every inn I ever went ta,” Yvonne replied cheerfully. Her eyes lidded as Henry studied her, as though he had noticed her in a whole new light. She reveled in the attention, lifted a knee and brushed behind her leg with her hovering heel, twirling her skirt again. He gave her a really good going over with those handsome blue eyes and she positively squirmed with excitement.

    For someone who, supposedly, thought they weren’t much of a teacher the bard proved to be an accurate assessor. He just let her have the truth of it, compliments and critiques both and her own smile broadened every time he willingly revealed the courage to tell it to her straight. She presumed many men would tell her how talented she was, that they could listen to her play until the end of their days, but flowery praise meant nothing to her. She loved honesty - Henry had it in spades.

    The enthusiastic minstrel gave her a quick lesson in the complimentary roles of instruments - the way a piano kept the beat and provided the base of a song, while a fiddle shined front and centre for example. Not a good teacher or anything though, no siree. Only letting Yvonne know exactly what she needed to hear to improve her novice musicianship, that’s all. Her teacher needed to give himself more credit!

    Mayhap he be a really modest human. That must be it.

    Yet, Henry checked out her smooth-skinned legs and that was anything but modesty at play. Not that she minded.

    Go right ahead mister. Look all ye like.

    The beginner-level pianist contemplated appeasing his curiosity, answering his question. She didn’t want to give away all of her secrets too soon however, and some secrets were better left to be discovered. Maybe she’d have an opportunity to show him instead. That would be far more memorable.

    Henry’s hands gently gripped her backhands and he guided the hybrid, directed her fingers to play a sequence of keys. With guidance the uncertainty lifted from her mind and allowed her to press the ivories with confidence. Yvonne eagerly followed his directions and repeated the set with gusto! Back and forth, back and forth as she listened intently to the music of his fiddle. Henry looked to be overflowing with a wonderful zeal she had not envisioned in the carefree human before. His happiness filled her with happiness too.

    Her little dwarven fingertips replicated the notes easily, so easily she could look over her shoulder and watch - how his fingers worked the chords and his rod strummed the harmony. The song’s energy infused her with a vigor she had not known earlier; so fevered, so exhilarated. A minute and a half luxuriously elapsed and the energy overtook her. She increased the pace of the beat - pressed the keys even quicker than before, wondering whether Henry was capable of adapting to the haste and playing his well-liked song in a hurry!

    “Swiftly now, Henry!” Yvonne called out, grinning from ear to dark elven ear.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 06-14-2018 at 09:57 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  9. #29
    Member

    EXP: 485, Level: 1
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    Level completed: 25%,
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    The Rambler's Avatar

    GP
    855

    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone

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    The shift between Henry standing still, and Henry moving about the room, came without warning, without an indication of anything brewing. Between one note and the next, the grin on his face widened, as Yvonne spoke to him - and then he showed just why it was thy he had cleared most of the things away from the center of the room, and why he hadn't sat back down.

    He flung himself about the room, long limbs smoothly flowing about as he spun and cavorted about. His legs flicked back and forth - not the practiced motions of a dancer, but expressing the intense need he had to be moving, to put into motion the energy that was burning beneath his skin. He fed off the obvious excitement that Yvonne was showing as the two of them picked up the tempo, and moved more energetically, his arm sawing back and forth as his fingers flew across the strings. Shifts and turns, his body nearly a blur, the bird led the pace upwards, strumming faster and faster as the song drew closer to the end. It was exhilarating, a rush he rarely got to feel, and he could feel his body practically vibrating with excitement.

    A twist of his feet had him spinning around, beside Yvonne with his back towards the piano. Henry gave her that wide, bright smile, his blue eyes brimming with joy. The final notes of the song rang out, echoing a bit oddly in the padded room, and his chest heaved as he caught his breath, that grin, still tinged with a bit of a manic edge, splitting his face wide. He leaned against the piano, his back pressing against the wood as he watched her face intently.

    When he had recovered - only a few moments of stillness - his grin shifted became a bit calmer, and he closed his eyes. "Sorry about that, Miss Yvonne. It's not often I have people who are willing to accompany me when I play - they tend to want to just listen." It was a rare treat for him to have someone who was willing and able to keep up with him when he played. He settled the fiddle on top of the piano, and stepped away so he could bow low to her.

    "You have my thanks for that. Perhaps in the future, I can find out if you're normally a singer or a dancer." He chuckled, and pushed sweat-damp hair back from his face. The small room was becoming a bit warm, and his burst of frenetic energy certainly hadn't helped him stay cool. He had to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirtto let his skin breathe for a few moments as he smiled warmly at his companion.

    "So then! The night wears on - what would you like to do? Retire to a room? Or go out and see the night life of the town? I'd be honored to accompany you." He had caught himself on one of the words, remembering an earlier bit of misunderstanding, and changed it. The musician was enjoying this time and he didn't want a poor choice of words to make the short woman decide she was finished.

  10. #30
    Senior Member

    EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
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    Level completed: 79%,
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    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

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    “Don’t ye go apologizing ta me mister, not unless ye mean it. Yer not sorry that happened one bit, I know it. Ye should be proud of who ye be and what yer able ta express. Nobody can express quite like ye,” Yvonne remarked, scolding and praising the exhilarated bard in quick succession. She laid the piano keys to rest and closed the wooden cover, left everything how she had found it. The piano student still had no idea who the magnificent instrument belonged to - and the same could be said for the harp beside her - but ever since the day her childhood bullies had destroyed her apothecary stall she had made it a rule; respect people’s property.

    “Yer very welcome Henry. Thank ye for treating me ta some of yer endearing dance maneuvers,” the sophisticated woman teased, smothering a giggle with her hand before her manner became too mean. “Ye made me feel completely at ease about tha lack of piano talent in tha room.” Yvonne hopped off her seat and, before he could object to her repartee for him or herself, she trump carded the poor man with an adoring, uninhibited hug around his middle. A fond squeeze, never mind the sweat and she let him go again.

    The drow-dwarf decided not to answer Henry’s remaining questions, not in so many words. She whirled away, turned with a shy smile from him. Her secrets sought their freedom from her prison-lips. One step, two, out into the wide open space the minstrel had cleared for his own dance. Her mysterious silver eyes closed as she breathed in deeply, filled her lungs. She slowly raised her left arm, hand upturned to guide her melodic singing voice - to moderate the height of her tone.

    “Have ye ever heard a wolf cry ta tha blue full moon,
    Or asked a grinning bobcat why he grinned?” Her tender voice resonated throughout the room and her right arm mirrored her left, as though one hand gestured toward a full moon far above and the other a predatory cat lounging on a tree branch underneath it.

    “Can ye sing with all tha voices of tha mountain?” Yvonne’s voice reverberated the word sing, and both arms arose to an uplifting height in tandem with mountain. Her hips swayed and her feet followed along with their movement. A gradual step to the left, a turn that faced her toward Henry which revealed a hidden blush, and another turn to conceal her embarrassment again.

    “Can ye paint with all tha colours of tha wind?” Light of foot she lifted one and pirouetted, spinning twice with her elbows up but her hands held together.
    “Can ye paint with all tha colours of tha wiiind?” With a flick of her foot through the air she procured herself another pirouette, stood only on the ball of a single foot and allowed her arms to flow outward freely. She considered three spins to be enough for the slow pace of the song and relaxed the technique.

    “Ye think tha only people who be people,” Yvonne continued to sing in a quieter, softer tone, a hand over her own heart.
    “Be tha people who look and think like you,” she enunciated the word you correctly, surprisingly capable and gestured out toward Henry with a flourishing hand.
    “But if ye walk tha footsteps of a stranger,” she intoned and began to walk away from him, a hand coming to rest on the door frame.
    “Ye learn things ye never knew, never knew,” she crooned as she left the room entirely.

    Hopefully the song and dance had left him completely dumbfounded. She was far more practiced with her beautiful voice after all, and a tutored dancer to boot. Of course he would be, but she decided to wander off without him and time how long it took, to pick his jaw up off the floor and catch up with her little strides taking her away through the manor house.

    [Original song is of course Colors Of The Wind, by Vanessa Williams.]
    Last edited by Yvonne; 06-18-2018 at 10:21 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

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