“Ah—met Cassion!” Pash grinned, perhaps more passionate and interested in meeting Immortals in person now that he’d done so himself, the memory of Zanik’s alluring presence and the feeling of his song still so fresh and vibrant in his mind, ”Well, I’m sure that was nothin’ short o’ interestin’.”
His tide pool gaze shifted to the hat, curious. It seemed fitting enough, like the Immortal of Music’s own hands on his lute.
The seafaring minstrel didn’t mind if everyone else ate while he played and he said so. He could wait, he said, getting comfortable in a way that found his lute in his lap and his body just close enough to the dark-haired Sev’ryn that a knee brushed her own. He strummed a few chords and hummed a bit, warming up, considering the story he’d be telling in the form of song,
“It’s gonna be in Rakahi, mind y’ both.” He didn’t apologize so much as admit, unable to entirely translate the song on the fly like he had for other songs with Baya a few ten-trials ago. Some songs were just so much a part of the language he knew more intimately that it felt impossible to put them into another tongue, but hopefully the melody he played on his lute and the sounds of his baritone singing would convey the story and the ideas in a way that their hearts could understand if their minds could not,“But th’ gist be that the Small Boat, the Ipi’ufnajot, was once a real boat an’ th’ sailor, a woman, be in th’ sky because Xuir an’ U’Frek couldn’t share her love. But, at th’ end o’ each hot cycle, her constellation there—“ Pash pointed toward the western horizon, ”Touches th’ sea before th’ twin suns o’ Saun rise an’ she spends all o’ Saun on th’ sea b’fore returnin’ t’ th’ sky an’ th’ stars again. Anyway, that’s a lil’ summary t’ think ‘bout while I sing.”
Pash then sang the song in Rakahi with his baritone voice, which was perhaps more like a ballad. The music was a journey all its own, now clearly aided by the way he could play to the chords of emotions of all who heard him because of Zanik’s mark and his Empathy spark working together in such a way as to truly take the hearts of his listeners along with him for the entire tale. He couldn’t make anyone see, but he could make anyone feel, the need for translation somewhat blurred by the fire, the three of them together, especially after his brief explanation. It was winding and full of a few musical twists that obviously corresponded to the plot between U’Frek and Xuir, who were still friends and yet clearly a bit tense over the Biqaj woman who found herself caught up in the tale, caught up in the night sky as a collection of bright stars. The story-song wasn’t short by any means, and when he was finished, the last notes lost in the crackle of the fire, he placed his hands on the strings to bring silence and smiled,
“I’ve got a few more if y’ want them.” He teased, willing to play until the stars faded for the last time pretty much always, so long as the company made it worth while,“Unless someone else’s got a story t’share.”
The seafaring minstrel would help himself to the food and praise it warmly, for no matter how spoiled he’d become by Cally’s fancy meals, nothing compared to fireside food with excellent company. Arlo was clearly an excellent cook and an honor to the Immortal who’d gifted him his hat. Surely, Cassion kept an eye on the young man, mark or not,
“I’ve never been t’ Desnind. I s’pose I’ll have t’ visit, eh?” His question was clearly for Kali’rial, the grin on his face an endearing one between bites of dessert—delicious, delicious dessert, “In all m’ sailin’, I’ve never made ’t that far south. Though, from here, that’s a long sail. Well over a season, ‘m sure. Rharne I’ve been to, but I’ve no’ been back in … well, ‘bout five arcs or so.”
He’d never gone back, not since he left. Perhaps he should one day, just to leave old hurts and cargo behind once and for all.
Pash would happily play more music or listen to a story, not in a hurry to head home so much as content to be in comfortable company. Was he homesick? It's been a little over an arc since he'd last been home, almost two now. Sometimes. He missed his family. He missed his friends. He was a social creature and while traveling had become his life, he still found himself wondering about his mother, his siblings, his cousins.
His tide pool gaze shifted to the hat, curious. It seemed fitting enough, like the Immortal of Music’s own hands on his lute.
The seafaring minstrel didn’t mind if everyone else ate while he played and he said so. He could wait, he said, getting comfortable in a way that found his lute in his lap and his body just close enough to the dark-haired Sev’ryn that a knee brushed her own. He strummed a few chords and hummed a bit, warming up, considering the story he’d be telling in the form of song,
“It’s gonna be in Rakahi, mind y’ both.” He didn’t apologize so much as admit, unable to entirely translate the song on the fly like he had for other songs with Baya a few ten-trials ago. Some songs were just so much a part of the language he knew more intimately that it felt impossible to put them into another tongue, but hopefully the melody he played on his lute and the sounds of his baritone singing would convey the story and the ideas in a way that their hearts could understand if their minds could not,“But th’ gist be that the Small Boat, the Ipi’ufnajot, was once a real boat an’ th’ sailor, a woman, be in th’ sky because Xuir an’ U’Frek couldn’t share her love. But, at th’ end o’ each hot cycle, her constellation there—“ Pash pointed toward the western horizon, ”Touches th’ sea before th’ twin suns o’ Saun rise an’ she spends all o’ Saun on th’ sea b’fore returnin’ t’ th’ sky an’ th’ stars again. Anyway, that’s a lil’ summary t’ think ‘bout while I sing.”
Pash then sang the song in Rakahi with his baritone voice, which was perhaps more like a ballad. The music was a journey all its own, now clearly aided by the way he could play to the chords of emotions of all who heard him because of Zanik’s mark and his Empathy spark working together in such a way as to truly take the hearts of his listeners along with him for the entire tale. He couldn’t make anyone see, but he could make anyone feel, the need for translation somewhat blurred by the fire, the three of them together, especially after his brief explanation. It was winding and full of a few musical twists that obviously corresponded to the plot between U’Frek and Xuir, who were still friends and yet clearly a bit tense over the Biqaj woman who found herself caught up in the tale, caught up in the night sky as a collection of bright stars. The story-song wasn’t short by any means, and when he was finished, the last notes lost in the crackle of the fire, he placed his hands on the strings to bring silence and smiled,
“I’ve got a few more if y’ want them.” He teased, willing to play until the stars faded for the last time pretty much always, so long as the company made it worth while,“Unless someone else’s got a story t’share.”
The seafaring minstrel would help himself to the food and praise it warmly, for no matter how spoiled he’d become by Cally’s fancy meals, nothing compared to fireside food with excellent company. Arlo was clearly an excellent cook and an honor to the Immortal who’d gifted him his hat. Surely, Cassion kept an eye on the young man, mark or not,
“I’ve never been t’ Desnind. I s’pose I’ll have t’ visit, eh?” His question was clearly for Kali’rial, the grin on his face an endearing one between bites of dessert—delicious, delicious dessert, “In all m’ sailin’, I’ve never made ’t that far south. Though, from here, that’s a long sail. Well over a season, ‘m sure. Rharne I’ve been to, but I’ve no’ been back in … well, ‘bout five arcs or so.”
He’d never gone back, not since he left. Perhaps he should one day, just to leave old hurts and cargo behind once and for all.
Pash would happily play more music or listen to a story, not in a hurry to head home so much as content to be in comfortable company. Was he homesick? It's been a little over an arc since he'd last been home, almost two now. Sometimes. He missed his family. He missed his friends. He was a social creature and while traveling had become his life, he still found himself wondering about his mother, his siblings, his cousins.
