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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 24, 2010 20:49:21 GMT -5
1. I guess wait for my post first. 2. If no one's on in a while, keep going. x3 3. Have fun.  |
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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 24, 2010 20:57:18 GMT -5
The noon sun was shining in the town square, and Lorin reached up to adjust the hood of his gray cloak. He wasn't sure if someone in the castle would notice a slight tan (or, God forbid a burn), but he'd rather not take the risk. The last thing he needed was Brenthor to feel as though he was being blown off when the ambassador was already doing so much to keep him safe from Lysand.
He wore a green tunic, brown slacks, and leather boots, in duller colors to blend more into the crowd, despite how much he apparently did stick out, as he had found out in the tavern the day previous. His rapier still hung on the side of his belt, covered by the folds of gray fabric.
The square was rather spacious at the moment, while the sides were lined with all sorts of stalls for perfume, laced dresses, various accessories, and ornate daggers. For now, the prince settled on the simple wooden bench on the corner of the streets, in the sliver of shade cast by the building at his back. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly and letting his mind filter the sounds around him: shouts of merchants, gossip of passersby, chirping pigeons on the buildings to name a few.
(Editted it a little bit.)
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Post by Fabala Moonlance on Nov 25, 2010 1:08:40 GMT -5
"Some say love...
It is a river that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love...
It is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love...
It is a hunger.
And endless, aching need...
I say love...
It is a flower...and you it's only seed."
Thin fingers glided across the strings of a wooden mandolin, producing gentle notes that coincided with the sweet melody that floated from the small girl's lips. She was currently perched on a crate, her short legs swaying with the slow beat of the song. Today, she had removed her bells and replaced them with ankle-high black boots, which made soft 'thumps' as they hit the wood of said crate.
"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give.
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live..."
At the girl's feet was her satchel, pulled open and ready to receive some passer-by's spare change. She would incline her head in thanks whenever a coin found it's way into the dark brown bag, and added just a bit more energy into her song when a generous amount was placed in- even though that didn't happen too often.
"When the night has been too lonely...
And the road has been to long...
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong...
Just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow...
Lies a seed that, with the sun's love,
In the spring, becomes a rose..."
She strummed the final notes on her mandolin before ending the song, a small smile on her face.
Ah, the wonders of music. Fabala thought somewhat dreamily.
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Post by Travis Huntman on Nov 25, 2010 2:35:41 GMT -5
Travis was wondering about the market. If experence have told him already, there was nothing good that going to come from venturing into this crowded gathering of strangers. He shouldn't even be here; he should be back of the bar, getting ordered around by Malcolm to run the bar. Then, the idea getting screwed by karma in this market of unpredictable events was better than being stuck that man.
In sea of the chatter of the merchants and customers, he heard the wind of music. It was in enchanting to the ranger's ears. He followed the sound of music, guiding through the mass of people like mouse guiding through a maze to get the cheese. He heard getting louder and clearer. He finally found the source of the majestic sound; she was a young woman, short and thin. Yet, she knew how to make music like how a baker could make cake. After when she was done, the woodsman decided to approach this artist.
"You make excellent music. I've haven't heard anything that enlightening for a long while. Did you have a grand teacher or did you teach yourself?"
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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 25, 2010 15:39:08 GMT -5
The nights of little sleep almost took their toll on Lorin, but the moment subconscious pulled at his mind, the strings of a mandolin saved him from slipping. He quickly righted himself, only to feel the weight of weariness drag him. This time he leaned forward, holding his head in his hand, but he would take tiredness over seeing the gold-eyed man bearing a fanged grin at him…
Glancing to where the mandolin and voice were, he saw the small crowd gathered around a dark-haired girl, and he listened to the strings, rolling like the breeze, harmonize with the inspiring lyrics, which only inspired a great sadness in him. When was his spring supposed to come?
He stood up and made his way to the crowd, and seeing the open satchel, he bit the side of his lip in thought. It was just a moment, though, before he dug into his pouch to produce, not coppers or silvers, but a shiny gold coin, which he dropped into it. Despite the grief stirred up inside him, the music really was quite lovely, and it wouldn't be fair to leave her uncompensated due to his own problems. Lorin glanced at the roguish man that stepped up to talk to the girl, and that left the prince just as content to step back once and fade away into the crowd.
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Post by Fabala Moonlance on Nov 25, 2010 16:04:51 GMT -5
Fabala, who had been about to begin another line of songs, froze her fingers over the strings of her mandolin and looked up at Travis. After he provided his praise, she murmured her thanks and let her hands fall to her sides, gripping the rim of the crate. Her mandolin lay balanced on her lap. When he asked his question, she readily answered, for listeners often inquired about the very same thing. "My father taught me everything I know."
Just as she finished speaking, she noticed a cloaked figure drop a coin into her satchel. She was about to thank him, as well, but the glint of gold caught her eye first. She gaped at the gold piece as it fell into the dark colored bag, and looked back up to try and speak with him, but he had vanished...
"That's odd..." She muttered, tempted to try and pursue the mysterious townsman. She considered it for a moment, and her curiosity got the better of her. What kind of man carried around gold pieces, and readily gave them to a random street performer?
"If you'll excuse me, I have to go..." Fabala said quietly to Travis, quickly throwing her mandolin onto her back and locking the strap that held it in place. She scooped up her satchel, closed the flap and ran after the Lorin, without another word to Travis. She shoved through the crowd for what felt like ages before she caught a glance of a familiar gray cloak...it was a long shot, knowing that anyone could have a gray cloak around here, but she had to try.
"Wait! Please, wait!" She called, speeding up so she could catch up to Lorin.
She almost had him when she was cut off by a huge throng of the crowd.
"Damn..." She cursed, desperately searching for a way around. It was then that her eyes found a storefront to her left, with a sign that was held up by a large pole. Said sign was fairly close to the corner of the building, and on the street around that corner was a bare spot; Fabala guessed it was the door of the shop, so not many people would walk directly in front of it. That created an opening. A few feet below said pole was a hollow in the brick, which Fabala was fairly certain she could fit her foot in.
Finding no other way, Fabala ran straight for the wall and jumped at the last moment, feeling her foot wedge into the hole. Her right hand grasped the pole with an iron grip, desperate to stay up. With a sharp thrust of her body and a push of her foot, she swung around the corner and landed in the bare spot.
Smiling softly, yet finding her hand in quite some pain from the amount of strain she had put on it, Fabala continued to run.
It took her only moments to finally catch up with the man. "Please, wait up!" She reached out to grab his shoulder. "I only wanted to thank you..."
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Post by Travis Huntman on Nov 25, 2010 23:39:57 GMT -5
"Well, I must say your father was an excellent teacher," stated the ranger. However, the musician seemed to be in a rush as she started to pack up. Travis wasn't sure if he offended her, or if she didn't have time to talk, but he saw that woman run though the crowd of people. The woodsman would of allowed her to go, but he forgot to pay the woman. He didn't have to give the woman any money, but it was the right thing to do to give her something.
Travis began to chase after the young woman. The crowd of people didn't help the ranger much, but he knew he was on the right track. Luck was on his side when he saw the woman using a pole to vault the side of a wall. Not only was it an impressive acrobatic feat, but it showed Travis was on the right track.
He was able to beat the crowds of people and made it to the woman. "I'm sorry, but I forgot to pay...." Just then his eyes were on the pale young man. We saw this person before, at the bar. "Hey, didn't I see you at the Dragon's Keep?"
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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 26, 2010 14:28:43 GMT -5
Lorin didn’t hear the initial cry for attention, and he, unfortunately, was drifting along with the tide of people too quickly to notice the girl’s impressive display of leverage and strength. He continued on like an oblivious zombie until he felt someone grab his shoulder. His insides froze for a second, and Lorin almost jumped as high as Fabala had vaulted, the only thing on his mind being assassins. Spinning on his heel, his wide-eyed expression of terror slowly eased away when he noticed it was just the dark-haired girl, but something about her still made her feel uneasy. Probably the dark hair, he realized. "That.. It was nothing, really. You earned it. It really was a beautiful song," he murmured. And it had saved him from a possible nightmare, couldn’t forget that.
He looked over the girl’s shoulder to the roguish man that had been talking to her previously. The Dragon’s Keep… After a moment, a flash of recognition lit his face. "Oh, yes… I was. You’re the bartender," he said, finally speaking up. Now he felt bad that he forgot to tip the man previously. Hopefully the man wouldn’t hold it against him.
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Post by Fabala Moonlance on Nov 26, 2010 15:27:33 GMT -5
"But it's not nothing!" Fabala replied. "I thank you for your payment, and I'm more than grateful, but a gold coin...it seems a little much. Are you sure you meant to put that much in?" She reached into her satchel, dug around a little bit and found the gold piece. She held it out to him. "I'm sure you simply picked the wrong coin out of your purse. Here, take it back."
She looked over her shoulder at Travis, still offering the piece back to Lorin. "No, it's fine. Your kind words and your time were enough. Not everyone pays, anyway, and it's not an obligation. I just sing to sing...nothing more, nothing less. I don't expect money all the time, so you don't have to supply it."
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Post by Travis Huntman on Nov 27, 2010 0:47:14 GMT -5
Travis couldn't but admire the woman. Apperately she left because she felt the kid overpaid her. While the woman insited in not being paid, the ranger felt she needed to be paid for her kindness. He pulled out a few shilings and handed her the money, "I beg you. You deserve this money. You're an excellent musician and a humble woman. You shouldn't be left unpaid."
He then turned his attention to the pale traveler. Apperately he did remember him, though indentured servent would be the more approprite title. It was nice to see that he was still hanging on there in this big world, especially with the fact he could pay street preformers with gold gallons. "I'm glad to see you're still hanging tough, especially with those "strangers" bothering you. How are you doing so far?"
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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 27, 2010 15:10:07 GMT -5
The prince stared dumbly at the gold piece held in front of his face, almost as though he had never seen it before, or seen so many that it just didn't summon that much of a reaction anymore. He raised his hand, only to curl Fabala's fingers around the coin, "Yes, it was intentional. You really did help me out. I'll be alright, so don't worry about me." he said genuinely. "Did you learn that song from another minstrel, or did you write it yourself?"
His brow raised just slightly when the roguish man spoke to the girl. A woman, ha, and everyone else called him a kid... and they were around the same age. On that note, the roguish man appeared at least ten years older than either of them. Lorin made the adamant decision to stay around, biting his lip and attempting to draw forth the conversationalist that his lookalike was. "I'm fine, thank you." Actually, he could be better, but that all was a topic he'd rather avoid. "Are you on break? You don't happen to know anything about those two, would you?"
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Post by Fabala Moonlance on Nov 27, 2010 20:34:22 GMT -5
Fabala's eyes flicked from Lorin's face to her now closed hand, and this action was repeated several times before Fabala slowly retracted her hand and opened it almost timidly. She stared at the gold piece for a moment before letting out a small sigh and letting it fall back into her satchel. "I still do not understand why you'd pay that much..." She looked back up at Lorin. "But...I truly thank you." At his next question, she hesitated a bit before answering. "My father wrote it, actually...it was the last song he composed before his...passing."
She then turned around at Travis' words and was met with a handful of shillings. "Oh...thanks." She took them from him and placed them in the satchel, as well. "You both are really too kind."
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Post by Travis Huntman on Nov 27, 2010 23:57:06 GMT -5
"You're welcome," replied Travis to the musican before turning his attention the traveler. He asked him if he was on break and if he knew the two strangers in the bar. Travis only had his asumptions, and that was about it. Though, the Draven character might have rang a bell in the bounty hunter's mind.
"Breaktime isn't actually the best word, I perfer the term a brief moment of escape," joked Travis, "though to get to your question, I don't really know much about your 'friends' from the other day other than they seem 'related' to Malcolm. Your lady friend is a mystery to me, but the guy with coat full of knives does rang a bell. I believe the man's name is Draven Hunter, a mercenary. I don't know much about his history, but I would try to avoid him if possible."
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Post by Lorin Ciro Garnidell on Nov 28, 2010 6:03:11 GMT -5
"Please, believe me when I say that you helped me. You earned it, completely," Lorin said to Fabala as she dropped the coin into the satchel. His expression quickly became sympathetic upon hearing her explanation of the song’s origin. His own father came to mind, and without thinking he responded, "I’m so sorry to hear that… That must have been difficult for you. My own father is ill, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he passes on…."
He turned to Travis. A moment of escape…. Well, it wasn’t as if Lorin couldn’t understand that. Well, nothing that the bartender had to say about either the armed man or dressed woman didn’t seem very favorable. And so all that clinking made by Draven when he walked, those were all weapons? That was insane! "And Malcom is… the owner? So you think that whatever they’re doing, he’s in on it?" It seemed that at least one of Shadi’s guesses was correct. This man had to know more about Draven, at least! "Are there any rumors around this Draven?"
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Post by Fabala Moonlance on Nov 28, 2010 13:07:30 GMT -5
"When my father left me, I was orphaned. My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just me and my father for the longest time. Four years ago, he passed, and I've been singing on the streets of Thrunalhin's cities ever since." Fabala studied Lorin's features for a moment, and found her heart aching for him. Her father had been ill for a long while before he actually died, and she had felt the same way about him...
"Here, listen to this for me." She told him suddenly, removing the mandolin from her back. She quickly checked to make sure the instrument was tuned before sitting down on a nearby bench and beginning to play. Her voice joined the music after a few bars;
"Smile, though your heart is aching...
Smile, even though it's breaking...
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by if you smile...
Through your fear and sorrow!
Smile, and maybe, tomorrow,
you'll see the sun come shining through; for you!"
She flashed Lorin a brief smile before continuing;
"Light up your face with gladness!
Hide every trace of sadness!
Although a tear may be ever so near...
That's the time you must keep on trying!
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile!"
When her father had been bedridden with his sickness, Fabala had been the only one to care for him. His ailment still remained a mystery, for even the local doctor could not figure out what was causing his terrible coughing and fever. She could only keep him comfortable and safe as he slowly slipped away...
"When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by if you smile!
And, maybe, tomorrow,
You'll see the sun come shining through; for you!"
All she could do was keep smiling for him...keep making music for him...do odd jobs for the townsfolk to earn enough for the failing medicines and whatever food she could afford. At that point in time, she had not thought of singing for the masses...her voice was something she had just saved for her father, for the way he lit up when she sang for him was just too wonderful to let slip away. Plus, she could barely leave his side, anyway...how could she hold shows on the street with him inside, coughing up a storm?
"Light up your face with gladness!
Hide every trace of sadness!
Although a tear may be ever so near...
That's the time you must keep on trying!
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile..."
She played the final notes before letting the mandolin fall to her lap.
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