The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
Despite the tune's cheerful jig, it was somewhat haunting in nature, an endless night devouring the world, swallowing the sun eternally. A fate that had been reversed at some point, though Luvena knew not the tale of what had come to pass, in Novus' history.
She watched the mans jaw work back and forth, and wondered how with just three words she had managed to trouble him so. She realized then that he was not in fact, taller then herself, but still she was dwarfed by him.
He was made of muscle and vigor, while she was cloth draped over bone, a shadow of life. His words spilled out awkwardly, in stark contrast to the easy lyrics that floated throughout the square. “I don’t much care what they're singing about” she replied with ease. “But they do perform beautifully. They didn’t have such music where I come from.”
She paused, thinking back to what music they did have in herstial. All raspy reeds and percussives. Each song carried such a haunting melody, almost all were cautionary tales or lullabies of a sort. She remembered the tune that was carried on the winter solstice, where they burned pillars of fire into the skies (ones later echoed by a villainous man) to celebrate the death of Ma Testri and her terror. It opened with slow windy reeds, that mingled with the wind, and a quiet drone of humming followed, as they gathered before the feast.
“I take it you aren’t from Denocte” she stated, watching the way he listened to their words, seemingly disturbed by them. She too wasn’t sure how much she loved the word themselves, but she’d heard them spoken by Denoctians enough that they no longer surprised her.
@Tristan
She watched the mans jaw work back and forth, and wondered how with just three words she had managed to trouble him so. She realized then that he was not in fact, taller then herself, but still she was dwarfed by him.
He was made of muscle and vigor, while she was cloth draped over bone, a shadow of life. His words spilled out awkwardly, in stark contrast to the easy lyrics that floated throughout the square. “I don’t much care what they're singing about” she replied with ease. “But they do perform beautifully. They didn’t have such music where I come from.”
She paused, thinking back to what music they did have in herstial. All raspy reeds and percussives. Each song carried such a haunting melody, almost all were cautionary tales or lullabies of a sort. She remembered the tune that was carried on the winter solstice, where they burned pillars of fire into the skies (ones later echoed by a villainous man) to celebrate the death of Ma Testri and her terror. It opened with slow windy reeds, that mingled with the wind, and a quiet drone of humming followed, as they gathered before the feast.
“I take it you aren’t from Denocte” she stated, watching the way he listened to their words, seemingly disturbed by them. She too wasn’t sure how much she loved the word themselves, but she’d heard them spoken by Denoctians enough that they no longer surprised her.
@Tristan
