His Maker brought forth gifts, tools, aids in their quest as a preview and a promise that their roles were needed. Pash, ever the creature of his emotions, could hardly contain himself in U’Frek’s presence as it was, but then he spoke of Zanik and said out loud the sentiment he indeed had to his instrument, the seafaring minstrel made a little weepy noise and yet had no shame about salty knuckles rubbing at saltier tears. His face ached from smiling so damn much, and it was with a bit of blurred vision that he watched the Immortal tie the strange strands of what appeared to be gorgeous auburn hair to the railing of his ship as if stringing an instrument—
U’Frek and Zanik were cousins?
—the poor Biqaj never wanted to wake up. Or maybe he did before all the brains between his pointed ears melted in joy.
But then—oh, then—he strummed them and the sound that filled the hull of his chest and washed through everyone standing there was much more than just sound, it was feeling, moving, living, heart-changing emotion that was powerful enough to remind him of the night the Immortal of Music himself had played his grandfather’s old lute.
"Oh." Pash managed to hold himself together very poorly, a quiet, messy visage of his usually collected, loud self. Zanik’s own hair? Again, his Maker and the Immortal who’d Favored him were cousins? The tall Biqaj loved his family, his cousins, and those words stirred in him a fierce homesickness, especially given how Kali’rial and himself had already talked of such things just a handful of trials ago. While he knew the Immortals called each other family, he’d never heard them in person use such words and it was a strange feeling for him. He sighed, a sound that bordered on the dreamy, and spoke in his peoples’ tongue because it was the only thing that seemed to flow from his tumultuous thoughts correctly, "Thank you. I’m … humbled that you’d both of think of me with such careful consideration. And I won’t bring such a gift to misuse once it is given."
Yep. He was so going to cry, warm gaze almost amber in its brightness, welling with all the feelings he was not able to contain.
In through his nose, out through his mouth, just like Kali told him, the seafaring minstrel sort of flailed at finding a less emotional place for his mind. It did not exist … not at the moment. Not here.
He didn’t really want to leave. Not until he had to. Did he have to? Could he just stay here? Would his Maker leave or could they just ... hang out? Pash looked around the ship and the sea and the sun that sparkled over both. There had been the hint of danger and the promise of more, and yet that was hardly a deterrent to the tall Biqaj. It seemed as though it was high tide he accepted his unfortunate habit of wading into difficulty as part of his course. U’Frek himself seemed to deem him capable … of something.
Something that mattered.
"Can we really spend time here? Is there a rush for us t’ go home? I mean, it’s no’ like you’re no’ busy, wherever this is." He could go back to that comfortable but opulent room at the Baron’s tower and eventually back to his sloop in Scalvoris Town’s harbor, Kali’s presence the constant that anchored him even now. But the invitation to spend all the time he could here? He couldn’t say no.
"I’d like t’ spend whatever time’s given us aboard before we meet again, nelo qe."
U’Frek and Zanik were cousins?
—the poor Biqaj never wanted to wake up. Or maybe he did before all the brains between his pointed ears melted in joy.
But then—oh, then—he strummed them and the sound that filled the hull of his chest and washed through everyone standing there was much more than just sound, it was feeling, moving, living, heart-changing emotion that was powerful enough to remind him of the night the Immortal of Music himself had played his grandfather’s old lute.
"Oh." Pash managed to hold himself together very poorly, a quiet, messy visage of his usually collected, loud self. Zanik’s own hair? Again, his Maker and the Immortal who’d Favored him were cousins? The tall Biqaj loved his family, his cousins, and those words stirred in him a fierce homesickness, especially given how Kali’rial and himself had already talked of such things just a handful of trials ago. While he knew the Immortals called each other family, he’d never heard them in person use such words and it was a strange feeling for him. He sighed, a sound that bordered on the dreamy, and spoke in his peoples’ tongue because it was the only thing that seemed to flow from his tumultuous thoughts correctly, "Thank you. I’m … humbled that you’d both of think of me with such careful consideration. And I won’t bring such a gift to misuse once it is given."
Yep. He was so going to cry, warm gaze almost amber in its brightness, welling with all the feelings he was not able to contain.
In through his nose, out through his mouth, just like Kali told him, the seafaring minstrel sort of flailed at finding a less emotional place for his mind. It did not exist … not at the moment. Not here.
He didn’t really want to leave. Not until he had to. Did he have to? Could he just stay here? Would his Maker leave or could they just ... hang out? Pash looked around the ship and the sea and the sun that sparkled over both. There had been the hint of danger and the promise of more, and yet that was hardly a deterrent to the tall Biqaj. It seemed as though it was high tide he accepted his unfortunate habit of wading into difficulty as part of his course. U’Frek himself seemed to deem him capable … of something.
Something that mattered.
"Can we really spend time here? Is there a rush for us t’ go home? I mean, it’s no’ like you’re no’ busy, wherever this is." He could go back to that comfortable but opulent room at the Baron’s tower and eventually back to his sloop in Scalvoris Town’s harbor, Kali’s presence the constant that anchored him even now. But the invitation to spend all the time he could here? He couldn’t say no.
"I’d like t’ spend whatever time’s given us aboard before we meet again, nelo qe."
