Sing Sweet Nightingale (Pash)

[Baya]

41st Trial of Ymiden in the arc 717

Baya was dying.

She thought her thirst was overpowering, if she was feeling the need to be dramatic, which she had. It was truthfully more of a constant nuisance brought on by Ymiden and its fight to turn her into a husk. But there was a streak of silver in her sun worn mood, a streak that struggled to bring back her usual cheer and it came in the form of a building that would surely house big ones. And if there was one big one there would be many. And where they gravitated to there would be housing and water. Most importantly, because thirst would never be as important, there would be sounds. More sounds than the rumble of feet and the repetitive lack of conversation that echoed back at her. She hated that it was so hard for these big ones to look down or even up or anywhere aside from point A and B, as if they didn't want to see her. She hated the way she could feel her own feet dragging along the cobbles as she meandered to the noise, she hated the fact that she was wasting time hating things when she could be doing things. Things like getting water. Which the very thought of made Baya lick her lips, she wasn’t starved for it (yet) but the heat made it seem as if she could not get enough quick enough. Her footsteps perked up, almost at a skip until she reached the door. The door she couldn’t open on her own. The door made for big ones with its big words and big handles, and didn’t they have windows somewhere? Her bright eyes flickered to the sides to find an entry sized just for her but landed on the ground where lights and smells and the hushed chattered of voices.

It was easy enough to scramble under the door, easier still if big ones with their large feet would quit getting in Bayas way. Her hips stuck for a moment, her own skin working against the rough wood of the door but it was just her luck because then she noticed him. Oh, there was nothing great about him as far as big ones went. He was big with hair and tattoos on skin enough to rival some of the Tunawas that covered themselves as decorative pieces to a story. The important part of him that caught Bayas eye as she wiggled out from under the door, was his instrument.

The notes caught her ears with a vibration that thrummed through straight to her toes and made her forget all about water just so she could hear more. So it was with quick, unhindered steps she made her way over, ignoring a few odd hellos that she couldn’t be bothered to place the meaning of. And as she got closer the vibration grew louder, and louder, and louder still until her own lips parted to copy when Baya found found herself at the big ones feet. Her tiny mouth opened to join in with a shrill, high pitched trill. It sounded a bit like a bit dying. It sounded a bit too loud for the quiet noise of the room but it was glorious. If only because for a moment the guitar echoed the noise back, or what she thought was similar noise, and it was better than any one-sided conversation she could have with herself. Eager to hear more Baya crept forward to attempt and climb the big one so he could hear her better and answer her unspoken demand for him to play more.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

While he’d been playing mostly at Cally’s for several ten-trials now, the fine restaurant Faith had created with its well-intentioned support system was not the same experience for the seafaring minstrel as a tavern. Some nights, when he wasn’t working, Pash just needed the smell of stale alcohol and the drunken chatter of strangers to keep him inspired. The Knight’s Rest Inn & Tavern had yet to turn him down when he asked to play a song or two, and while the place was clean and well-cared for and the patrons well-mannered, it still had at least a mild modicum of the kind of atmosphere atmosphere the tall Biqaj sometimes craved over the finery of where he currently worked.

Settled into a chair on the stage, Pash set about making sure his lute was tuned. While he did so, he quietly prayed to Zanik that his music would be pleasing and that the Immortal would be honored by his playing and that his audience would be thoroughly entertained. It was short, but personal enough, just a few words before he’d decided his instrument was tuned and he was ready. With a smile, he looked up and let his lagoon blue eyes wash over the patrons, most of whom were conversing, eating, or drinking—not unlike at Cally’s to be honest—instead of watching him. Those that met his gaze met it with a smile, and he began to strum a tune.

His first song was a light one, rich tones of his grandfather’s old lute warm and very much feeling like the Ymiden season with its rain and ocean breezes. Pash didn’t notice his smallest audience member at first, caught up in his melody and watching the larger, er, normal-sized visitors to the Knight’s Inn go about their evening while listening to him play.

He thought he heard an echo for a moment, as though he was in a room much larger than he was or as though the acoustics of his position had suddenly changed … only it came from below him instead of above or around him. It wasn’t until he felt something actually touching his sandaled feet that Pash shifted his attention, looking for the source of the strange sound, all while carefully trying to keep his fingers moving properly so as not to miss a chord or slip from his rhythm. Tiny hands on his tanned skin was another Tunawa. It was definitely not Niv, but the little creature was singing along or attempting to copy the delicate sounds of his lute.

He smiled at her, but bit his lip in thought, unable to reach down and assist the Tunawa who he didn’t mind hanging around so close while he was in the middle of a song. Once it wound down, he could take a moment before starting the next one, but for now, his calloused fingers were bound to their purpose on the strings of his lute. The little creature was small, and so long as they weren’t trying to distract him on purpose or play his instrument, it wasn’t like the things took up much room.

“Ahoy there.” He whispered in his Rakahi-accented Common, attempting to speak underneath the sound of his instrument so that the patrons didn’t hear, “Lemme finish this song, a’right?”

He played a few more bits, letting the light melody wind down in a way that sounded like watching the suns set from the beach. A few of the patrons were watching him now, interested and touched by his playing. The seafaring minstrel glanced back down at the creature at his feet, winking as subtly as one could possibly wink. Now that his first song was finished, he reached down for his mug of water so he could take a sip as well as offer the Tunawa his tattooed arm as a lift up. Should she take it, he’d offer Baya a choice of seating: on the back of the chair itself, near his shoulder, which was clear of his sun kissed hair as it had been tied back before he began his performance, or on his shoulder near the colorful woven strap to his lute, both places he could keep a sideways glance on her as well as keep her out of the way, given that his lap was occupied by his entire instrument and his hands were necessary for its usage,

“Here for a front row seat, eh? Promise me y’won’t sing off key an’ y’ can stay.”

[Baya]

The big one was the agreeable sort that saved Baya the trouble of having to climb up him and gave her a great view of the tavern from his shoulder. As well as gave her a great view of his fingers strumming across the cords. How did he know what strings made what noises?

“How do that?” Baya asked using his ear to keep her balance, “Am sing good, stay even if sing bad. Listen, listen.”

Baya hesitated for just a moment before trying to think of how the song would translate to Common but decided it didn’t matter in the least because she’d just make up a song instead, that way everyone would be able to understand her song.

“Am little Tunawa
Made of plants
Hair is green
And am grow flowers
When suns out
Am shouting
Need me water or am dry out!”

When she finished Baya gave a little bow and wave quite pleased with her nonsensical song. “Was good, yes? Yes.” She chattered as she scooted along his shoulder when she finished and reached for the instrument, she wanted to pluck a string too. Baya paused, no she wanted him to play so he could sing her song with her then he could show her how to play too! And it wasn’t as if she could use the huge instrument, she’d need a tiny but first but where would she even get one? The tiny Tunawa shook her head, she was getting side tracked, and again she shifted around his shoulder, unable to keep still as gripped his ear again, “We sing, you play!”

OOC

The song is the tune to “I’m a Little Tea Pot”

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Ah, it was Baya.

“Hello again, lil’ friend. Nice t' see you again. I told you, huntin’ wasn’t m’ job, eh? Music is.”

Pash seemed to be collecting cute Tunawa as friends lately, and the tall Biqaj had absolutely no complaints. None. They were fascinating, endearing little things. A few of those in the tavern had noticed her, too, having heard the minstrel pause for a moment in order to let the small creature climb up and join him. Their attentions were now quite captured on the pair, confused as to whether they were a duo or whether something else entirely was about to happen.

The seafaring minstrel laughed quietly as Baya investigated what he was doing and asked curious questions in a tiny voice, “How d’ I play? Pressin’ here,” he indicated where his fingers arched on the frets to form chords, “changes th’ sounds so when I strum here,” he indicated where his other hand was plucking the strings, “it makes th’ melody I want.” That was the simplest explanation he could give without lessons, but he hoped it was enough for now. He briefly wondered how anyone would make a lute small enough for a Tunawa, let alone what the sound would be like.

Baya volunteered to sing if he played, to which request his smile broadened into a warm grin. Niv liked to dance and this one liked to sing—why had no one cajoled a handful of Tunawa into a traveling troupe of performers already? What an adorable little circus they would make!

Her song was heard by the tavern crowd, especially the handful of folks near the stage. One of them clapped and the other one smiled, Pash chuckling once the creature was finished,

“Sure, stay an’ sing. It seems like you’re pleasin’ th’ crowd already.” He winked, tilting his head to indicate the small clay bowl at his feet for tips, “I’ll even share m’ coins with you when we’re done. Sound fair?”

If Baya agreed, he’d play a simple tune, settling in to his slightly uncomfortable wooden chair and strumming a little quieter than he’d normally play so that the little Tunawa’s voice could be heard at all above his notes and the general din of conversation in the tavern. He kept his melody simple so that she could make up her lyrics on the fly if that’s what she was doing, giving her a few trills to get used to the rhythm of his song and the pitch of the notes before indicating she was welcome to sing whenever she wanted.

[Baya]

His accent made her remember him, if Common was normally difficult to understand, accents made if worse. Still, the big one had a pleasant voice and a simple name that Baya could appreciate.

“Yes, is knowing Pash! You is better at singing, no hunting.” Baya said sagely, as if she were any better. But she didn’t need to be a hunter, she didn’t eat meat like that so it hardly bothered her that she was terrible at it. “Playing more fun.”

Baya listened to his explanation curiously, her arms cradled an imaginary instrument and mimicked his movements. Her voice echoed his explanation and her fingers wiggled on her own imaginary fret. She wanted so badly to play his! Big ones always made such interesting things, no wonder so many Tunawa spied on them at home. She’d never found them so interesting before but then again she’d never heard a tavern bard before either. There were so many new things. “Want play too! You is showing more? Showing frets and sounds after we is making more songs? Yes pleases!”

Baya preened a bit at the crowd, pleased and only a little nervous with her feet jittering along Pash's shoulder. As the big one began to play Baya quickly shook her head, face scrunched in concentration and distraction as she tried to think of words for a new song. Words she liked that would be fine to sing about, maybe she could sing of bird? They always did have pretty songs “No, no need big one shiny’s, you is keeping. We is trading now. I sings, you plays, see? No shiny’s.”

Without further comment Baya hummed along to the tune for a few trills then opened her mouth wide and belted along to the simple tune with little grace but great gusto.

“Flying high, flying low
So many place am go

Flying slow, flying fast
So many things am passed

Flying up, flying down
Seeing so many towns

Flying here, flying there
Can go anywhere in air

Flying am roam
But no places like home”

Baya held the end for a long time, thinking of her home then finished with a bright grin and another bow. “Is good?” She asked of the musician, pleased with her second song, “You sing too!”

[Pash Raj'oriq]

A few of the tavern patrons had literally scooted their chairs closer to the stage by now, eager eyes on the little creature who accompanied the salty bard with the tiniest of voices. Some were a bit more inebriated than others, and whether they thought the Tunawa cute or fascinating was hard to tell. Either way, the pair had attracted a bit of an audience now, drinks in hand. Those who hadn’t moved from their places still glanced over once or twice, curious but not quite as swayed.

Pash chuckled at her offer of exchange, acquiescing to Baya’s disinterest in coin. He didn’t really need the tips, either, now that he worked at Cally’s. But, sometimes it was nice to have a little extra. He always managed to find something to do with it lately,

“A trade’s fair ‘nough.” He winked before playing, impressed at the diminutive creature’s swift impromptu lyric abilities. The Tunawa listened to his tune for only a few trills, humming along, before her little voice had some words. The nearby folks leaned in, at least one of them all but falling out of their chair, eager to listen to the tiny sounds. Pash played a little quieter than usual, wanting to make sure that Baya’s voice could be heard above the warm notes of his lute.

When the song was finished, two people clapped and the others all were smiling, pleased with the unexpected duet. Pash smiled, “Aye, that was a sweet one. Seems like everyone here liked it, too. Your voice carries well for bein’ so small.” The Biqaj chuckled, sweeping a hand for Baya to look out through the tavern of rapt faces and curious glances,

“Me? Sing? I s’pose, though I don’ sing in Common much.” Tidepool gaze washed over the faces that looked back at the both of them, “Let’s see what I can do t’ translate an’ ol’ song on th’ fly, eh? It maybe a lil’ rough, but folks ‘ere should be a lil’ forgivin’, what with th’ drinks an’ all.”

He sat up bit straighter, adjusting the strap of his lute for a moment and cleared his throat, humming for a minute to hear his own voice, baritone when speaking but flexible in range when he chose to sing, which wasn’t as often as he should. Pash felt a little rusty, out of practice, but he didn’t want to disappoint the Tunawa. He preferred playing more, but sometimes a good song felt just as nice. Strumming a few chords, his tune was a rousing sea shanty, something appropriate for a tavern and not appropriate at all for Cally’s, a tune best enjoyed after a few too many drinks, but still entertaining none the less:

“Farewell an’ so long t’ you fair Ne’Haeran ladies,
Farewell an’ so long t’ you ladies o’ Ne’Haer,
For we’ve received orders for t’ sail for Ilaren’s Rharne,
An’ hope very shortly t’ see y’ again.

We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true Orm’del sailors,
We’ll rant an’ we’ll rave ‘cross th’ salt sea,
‘Till we see lightning flash o’er th’ harbor o’ Rharne,
From sea t’ sky isn’t ’s far ’s it seems.

We hove our ship to, with th’ wind at sou’east, boys,
We hove our ship to for t’ hope th’ storms clear.
In fifty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom,
We filled our maintops’l, up th’ storm we did steer.

Th’ first land we made was th’ port called Bayward,
Next Strosdyn south o’ Rhakros, then Etzos, an’ finally sweet Rharne.
We sailed th’ by th’ suns’ light, the moons’ light, th’ stars’ light, too,
Then bore straight ‘way for Ilaren’s belov’d Rharne.

Now th’ signal was made for our ol’ fleet t’ anchor,
We clewed up our tops’ls, stuck out tacks an’ sheets.
We stood by our stoppers, we brailed in our spankers,
An’ anchored ahead o’ th’ noblest o’ fleets.

Let every man ‘ere drink up his full bumper,
Let every man ‘ere drink up his full bowl,
And let us be jolly an’ drown melancholy,
Drink a health t’ each jovial an’ true-hearted soul.”

He plucked a few finishing chords with a smile, his voice fading to the applause of the tavern patrons for them both.

“A’ight, so I guess I can sing a bit.” Pash grinned at Baya, “Translatin’s a lil’ hard, though. I’ll have t’ practice that one. You’ll have t’ teach me some Tunawa tunes, eh?”

[Baya]

The applause was pleasing, she’d never been applauded before. It was also a little startling, making her twitch after she finished singing. It was an odd sensation to be gawked at with what wasn’t greed or plain curiosity that bordered on making her uncomfortable. It made her grip Pash's ear a little tighter as her eyes darted over the people but it fell away as Pash started singing. His voice was so loud! Big ones were loud but Baya was fascinated by how loud he could get. She even found herself mouthing words she didn’t know, shaping them slowly to figure out what he was saying. His thick accent just made the song sound even nicer.

“Common singing is hard, always sound nicer in Tree Talk, sound nicer with accent.” Baya said when he finished, hands still clapping gleefully after the other applause had died down, “Tunawa sing with birds, is sounding pretty, Gran sounding like dead bird.” She said as an afterthought then shook her head to clear it of awkward memories.

“Oh yes! Is learning you!” Hm, but did any of them translate well? Most of the things she sand she just made up. The words simplistic and sounding pretty together in her head. But if Pash could sing translated in Common then she could too, it wouldn’t be so hard. Maybe. Oh! She could do a nursery rhyme! “You is copying, yes? Sing second me.”

“Ashan knows secret flowers grows
Long is walking Ojogbon is knocking”

She took a breathe and paused, letting Pash get used to the simplistic tune and follow up his her words with an echo of his own. It made the song slower than normal as she gave him time to follow along but it was fun to sing anyway with her body remembering the childish dance as she wiggled around on Pash's shoulder.

“We make room for Ymiden bloom
Cut and bury, grow don’t tarry
Yaba Daiv is here, now is time for cheer!”

When they finished, Baya smiled into the crowds faces, cheerfully waving. She could get used to this!

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash was much more used to the attention than Baya, though he enjoyed the fact that the tavern patrons weren’t all entirely admiring himself as much as the little Tunawa. A bit of extra curiosity to his usual performance expectations was quite exciting, to be honest, and it was refreshing to see that the crowd that had slowly begun to gather closer to them were indeed interested in hearing more instead of heckling. It was a supportive crowd, a curious one, which was good, though the Empath could have swayed them had their thoughts been different.

He chuckled at Baya’s comments, having heard that Baya’s kind could mimic animal sounds as well as make up their own. He wondered what it would be like to compose something to be played in compliment to actual bird song instead of attempting to emulate it. He’d have to convince the Tunawa to help him experiment sometime.

Baya asked him to sing her song, and Pash nodded that he’d echo her. He listened to her first two stanzas in her tiny but well-carried voice and smiled warmly, letting his fingers find a few chords to strum quietly in harmony while he sang along to her words in his deeper, slightly louder voice, careful not to overpower her with his notes or his singing. He wanted the tavern crowd to hear the little creature and savor what she had to offer, allowing himself to be the accompaniment instead of just the main entertainment.

There was a bit more applause this time, most tavern patrons having never heard a Tunawa sing before, let alone watch one dance while doing so on the shoulder of a Biqaj. By now, it didn’t seem to matter to those listening what language they sang in or what they sang about, the novelty of the duo clearly an interesting and very entertaining one, regardless of each audience member's varying levels of intoxication.

The seafaring musician smiled at the warm response, dedicating all of the musical enjoyment to Zanik with an unspoken prayer. Their unexpected duet spontaneous and musically satisfying indeed. He glanced at the coins some of their audience had left for the two of them already and decided to give those away, too, the enjoyment of sharing new music with someone new far more satisfying than a handful of nel,

“Folks ‘round here 're gonna come t’ expect me t’ have new acts e'ery trial soon, I bet. An’ for good reason, I’d say.” Pash complimented her singing with a wink, “Didja want t' play some more together 'r do y' need a break, Baya?”

[Baya]

“Am good at singing.” It was both a quite question and a statement. Baya wasn’t really. She didn’t sound bad, her voice was pretty enough but she knew that but she wasn’t a singer. Not like when Pash had sung but the compliment settled happily in her mind. Her whole face flushed with pleasure. His question surprised her though and she paused, oh! Thats right, she had come in for water so a break would probably be a good idea.

She wasn’t particularly dying as she had felt before but if she wanted to sing more it’d probably be in her best interest to drink some or she’d probably lose her voice. Though the prospect didn’t bother her at all, singing was more than enough fun to be worth it. Still, it probably wasn’t a bad idea to take a small break. Plus that way she could get Pash to sing more songs and she could think of more songs to translate or potentially make.

“Small break? Sing more after, am showing more songs, am can. You is singing more songs too. Pash is asking water for me?” While she waited for water another thought occurred to her, “You is saying no sing Common, what sing? Sing Tree Talk? No am singing good Common too, is hard. Much words.”

It hadn’t occurred to her till now that there was something almost familiar about his accent, and his odd eyes. But not anything she could place definitely. If only because she was too distracted at the prospect of more music. As she drank any water that came Baya contemplated more songs she could sing and couldn’t help humming in between sips. As she watched the small crowd waiting for their break to finish, at least she assumed thats what they waited for she grinned, a little slyly at Pash.

“Pash could be singing more. With me. More big one shiny things, more big ones, on new trials, we do again? Yes?” She wanted to ensure he’d play with her again, big ones always liked shinys. And if there was more people listening then he’d get more. Then he’d sing more, and that meant Baya could too. She took one more sip of water then without even waiting for Pash this time, belted out a few lines of his song, laughter in her voice.

“Farewell an’ so long t’ you fair Ne’Haeran ladies,
Farewell an’ so long t’ you ladies o’ Ne’Haer,
For we’ve received orders for t’ sail for Ilaren’s Rharne,
An’ hope very shortly t’ see y’ again”

[Pash Raj'oriq]

The seafaring minstrel waved to the crowd to signal that they were taking a break, chuckling at the diminutive creature’s way of talking, “Aye, well, singin’ starts with you’re heart an’ your’s be ‘n th’ right place. Sure, your technique could use some work, but, well, so could mine, really. Jus’ practice an’ learnin’.” It seemed as though all Tunawa were creative in some way, at least thus far in the tall Biqaj’s personal experience with them.

Pash was happy to walk them both to the bar, shifting to sling his lute back over his shoulder for the moment and pausing only to stretch his tanned, inked arms out in front of him, fingers laced together. Leaning against its mostly clean, somewhat sticky surface, he made sure to request a water for the both of them. The barkeep eyed Baya curiously, aware that he didn’t have a glass small enough to serve the Tunawa and having no clue how the creatures drank anyway. So, in true barkeep fashion, he just put two of the same cups of lukewarm but potable water in front of the tall Biqaj and hoped for the best, smiling and shaking his head to indicate he didn’t need any coin, either—the pair had garnered enough attention from the patrons for the evening that he was making plenty of money keeping them drinking. Pash thanked him before answering Baya

“Well, I’m Biqaj, so I mostly sing ‘n Rakahi, th’ language o’ m’ people.” He answered her question about what he was more comfortable singing in if it wasn’t the Common tongue, “I don’ know Tree Talk—I didn’t know trees talked, really, an’ then d’ y’ speak Kali’s language, Xanthean, too?”

The seafaring musician laughed at her suggestion that if they continued to sing together, they’d most certainly be making a bit more nel. Pash didn’t charge when he played at taverns anymore, not now that he was quite comfortably paid for his work at Cally’s, but tips weren’t so bad and he could always give any gold as an offering for Zanik, for playing for the enjoyment of the crowd and leaving him gifts both were pleasing to the Immortal who’d marked him.

He couldn’t imagine a Tunawa wandering anywhere around town with even a single nel, let alone a stack of them, “Nah, well, I don’ mind playing’ more, but I don’ care ‘bout th’ coin,” unlike most of his race, he’d never really cared. There were plenty of Biqaj who chased physical riches, but Pash was far too distracted by experiences and individuals to care about hoarding more than he needed. He had enough trouble hanging onto what he earned anyway, “On m’ trials when I’m no’ workin’ at Cally’s I like t find somewhere t play, aye, be ‘t th’ Central Square ‘r th’ taverns ‘round Scalvoris ‘r even Almund. I’ll never say no t’ some accompaniment.”

Pash winked and finished his water before scooping up the Tunawa once Baya was finished singing with a loud, rough-sounding laugh. There were a few pairs of eyes that followed them back to where the salty bard had been sitting before, and he resettled himself with his lute in his hands and the little creature wherever she wished. While some of the patrons had rolled over into new ones, as was the nature of a tavern after all, there were a handful who had waited in order to hear some more. There were a few coins in the little wooden bowl he’d placed near his seat, perhaps more than usual, and he took that as an indication that the Tunawa was an unusual sight that made the evening something special,

“A’right, a few more songs, eh? I could sing somethin’ in Rakahi if y’ wanted, but you’d jus’ have to come up with some harmony ‘stead ‘f words.”

Off Topic

I'm happy to keep going or you can wrap it up in your next post and we can assume there's some more music. Let's do some fun things in Saun!