Post by Fang on May 18, 2023 20:33:16 GMT
The man’s face may as well have been carved from stone, his words vaguely welcoming and wholly threatening but the flesh that voiced them stoic as he stared through the flames. He gave his name, a small acquiescence to Mea’s request provided with a thinly veiled suggestion. She was no stranger to suspicion and paranoia, both equally evident in the guard’s actions and words. For her part she only smiled and nodded, replying to the face value of his words.
”Well met, Master Drake. Indeed, my talents would be mostly wasted in the dark, though perhaps if your eyes were not so entranced your ears might better enjoy the melodies?” It was a soft arrogance that often made the more naïve blush, though she hardly expected that reaction from the hardened warrior. The edge of sarcasm, the hint of a joke, those were her true intentions. Unlikely as it was that the man would break his countenance at any word she spoke the idea was swiftly becoming a goal.
Ipomea’s attention returned to the Aos Gaotha as her hand extended over the flames. She took the hand gently, a polite grip and a nod her way of exchange before her fingers darted back to the strings. As Ruby detailed the meaning of her ephemeral response to Mea’s earlier tune the bard’s strumming paused.
”A midnight request is a wish that I have the power to grant,” Mea smiled faintly into those wide eyes. ”I would love nothing more than to offer you a song of your home, but in its stead I am reminded of another song. It is not Elvish, you see, but one of the Human tales of a sailor who fell in love with the sky.” Before she had finished her explanation she had began strumming the notes hanging in the air and washing the camp in its melody. Whether it spoke to the hearts of her audience was a concern that fell away as the soft vocals joined.
The sea is a fickle mistress,
To a man she can be cruel,
Amongst her waves and eddies,
Great kings might become fools,
And though I love her deeply,
Though we may never part,
The sky above
She calls to me
And steals away my heart.
My love it may be fickle,
But in the end I’ll rest at sea,
My body hugged by liquid currents
But my spirit finally free.
The open sky will embrace me,
Our love will come to pass.
My body with my life below,
And my heart with her at last.
The melody continued softly as the words trailed off. Almost as if in a trance, softly and with a hint of song, Mea spoke over the music. ”They say this is the song of the first airship, or at least what time has left of it. Its funny how time has a way of wearing down everything it touches. Even great Empires find their end at the hands of time.” Eyes half lidded she studied her audience’s reaction, an inkling of suspicion that they would greatly appreciate the song, but moreso what she had said.
”Well met, Master Drake. Indeed, my talents would be mostly wasted in the dark, though perhaps if your eyes were not so entranced your ears might better enjoy the melodies?” It was a soft arrogance that often made the more naïve blush, though she hardly expected that reaction from the hardened warrior. The edge of sarcasm, the hint of a joke, those were her true intentions. Unlikely as it was that the man would break his countenance at any word she spoke the idea was swiftly becoming a goal.
Ipomea’s attention returned to the Aos Gaotha as her hand extended over the flames. She took the hand gently, a polite grip and a nod her way of exchange before her fingers darted back to the strings. As Ruby detailed the meaning of her ephemeral response to Mea’s earlier tune the bard’s strumming paused.
”A midnight request is a wish that I have the power to grant,” Mea smiled faintly into those wide eyes. ”I would love nothing more than to offer you a song of your home, but in its stead I am reminded of another song. It is not Elvish, you see, but one of the Human tales of a sailor who fell in love with the sky.” Before she had finished her explanation she had began strumming the notes hanging in the air and washing the camp in its melody. Whether it spoke to the hearts of her audience was a concern that fell away as the soft vocals joined.
The sea is a fickle mistress,
To a man she can be cruel,
Amongst her waves and eddies,
Great kings might become fools,
And though I love her deeply,
Though we may never part,
The sky above
She calls to me
And steals away my heart.
My love it may be fickle,
But in the end I’ll rest at sea,
My body hugged by liquid currents
But my spirit finally free.
The open sky will embrace me,
Our love will come to pass.
My body with my life below,
And my heart with her at last.
The melody continued softly as the words trailed off. Almost as if in a trance, softly and with a hint of song, Mea spoke over the music. ”They say this is the song of the first airship, or at least what time has left of it. Its funny how time has a way of wearing down everything it touches. Even great Empires find their end at the hands of time.” Eyes half lidded she studied her audience’s reaction, an inkling of suspicion that they would greatly appreciate the song, but moreso what she had said.