[PM to Join] Rag-times & Sea-shanties

[Lars]

IN & OUTSIDE THE BLACK DOVE
ROALIS 23, 2719꧁꧂ AROUND NOON

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It had been only a couple of weeks since he'd arrived in the harbor, and maybe half that since he'd settled proper and found a job, but already, Old Rose felt like more of a home than Anaxas' prestigious university ever had. The freedoms afforded to him here were still so fresh and foreign. He'd found residence in an apartment that was nothing less than shabby, and sharing his space with three humans when he'd hardly ever spent more than a few minutes around their kind in his life was not always easy - but it was fine enough, and it allowed him far more than the passive dormitories ever had. The dorms might've been cleaner, but they had been prisons, filled with hatred and fear and uncertainty. While he might still feel plenty of uncertainty here, he wasn't burning from the inside with rage.

Being free was the strangest thing he had ever known.

He could go to bars, whenever he wanted. He could leave the apartment at any hour. He could wear whatever he pleased, even if his options were low and it'd take him a while to be able to afford much else. He could speak before spoken to, he could be as loud or as quiet as he wanted, he could be kind, or he could be rude. Although he would be the first to admit that he'd taken the last thing a bit too far when he'd first arrived in the port town - the bruises that lined his neck as well as the one upon his cheekbone were evidence of his reckless speech, but it was his choice. If he wanted to get into a fight, he was free to do so without an entire university lording over him.

The new form of employment was something he still had to get used to, though Lars had taken to it with enthusiasm. If he had to sleep with whatever drunken pirate or smuggler that walked in, then so be it - it afforded him the life that he'd wanted so badly for so long. For once, he was getting paid for the work he did, and that was more than one could say for his years of servitude in Brunnhold. Though he didn't appreciate unfamiliar hands on his skin, he had rediscovered his talents when it came to other people - they were easily swayed, easily broken, easily controlled. Even the most powerful men and women on Vita had weaknesses, if one cared enough to find them.

Lars sat at the bar of the Black Dove tavern, elbows resting on the counter, hands holding up his chin. He would've been a strange sight anywhere else besides Old Rose, with pure-white hair cascading down either side of his face, flipping out at the ends into the remnants of curls, light gray eyes watching with veiled curiosity as Mr. Spitz served the other patrons. He was comfortable in his tanned (although bruised) skin, his skinny frame clothed with a loose beige shirt that buttoned up halfway and dark trousers with holes at the knees - there was an old, golden necklace around his neck, doing little to drag attention away from the marks upon his skin, but he loved it. A being such as himself was meant for gold and jewels, for wealth and freedom and power beyond anyone else's control, or at least that's what he told himself. He just... wasn't quite there yet.

It took a small voice from his left to drag his gaze from behind the bar, and he was met with the sight of a woman half-ragged, half-attractive. He didn't turn away immediately, but was fairly certain of her intentions - and her expectant smile and gestures toward Mr. Spitz confirmed it. No, he held no interest in spending his coin on someone else. He much preferred the opposite. It didn't seem to bother the woman to his left, as she instead turned to the next fellow at the bar and did the same thing - she'd find success soon, he knew, with the crowd in there today.

"Ye need anythin', Cailan?"

"No," replied the passive easily, offering Mr. Spitz a half-smile, "not yet."

Both of their attentions (and probably everyone else's in the entire clocking tavern) were forced toward the entrance, the door swinging open with no small amount of force but revealing no man. Instead, some object was being pushed through - or rather, trying to be pushed through and failing terribly. It was far too big for the already crowded establishment, what were they thinking?

"Ye get that spitch out!" shouted Mr. Spitz, the man setting down the glass he'd been wiping and moving out from behind the bar, "what in th' hell are ye doin', toft?"

Clearly far too drunk for such an hour, the man finally showed himself, his head popping up from behind the large object - that Lars could identify then as some old, beaten upright piano, worn by the wind and the salt from the sea. He left his own seat then, following Mr. Spitz and helping to push the damn thing back out.

"Jus' wanted t' play it," the man gave, his expression sour, though he helped the other two men push the piano to the side and out of the walkway, so that it rested at the outside wall of the tavern.

"Ye don't appre… appreci…"

"Appreciate," Spitz helped.

"Appre-ci-ate music, kov."

"Keep it out here," he warned, raising a finger at the man and his piano, and staring him down for just a moment before returning inside. Lars remained outside, eyes narrowed slightly, watching with no small amount of confusion as the man turned to the upright. Proudly, he began to tap against the keys, starting out quiet but quickly turning to just bang his open palms against them, producing one of the most horrendous trains of sound he had perhaps ever heard.

"Stop that," demanded the passive, and he approached the man and his piano, "that sounds like a dying cat. Do you even know how to play it?"

"Y... yeah I know how't play it," his hands raised, and they would've crashed down upon the keys again if Lars hadn't reached out and grabbed his wrists.

"No, you don't," it was surprisingly easy to get him away from the instrument, and as soon as Lars had led the man back to the doors and pushed him inside... well he guessed he must've gotten distracted and forgotten all about the piano he'd found and pushed through the harbor.

What a buffoon.

Left alone, Lars glanced back to the upright. It would've been rather nice, if it hadn't been left to the elements years ago. As he approached, he ran his hand along the top, swiping dust from the old wooden surface.

You're allowed to play it, you know.

A low hum escaped his throat as he considered. He didn't start playing anything - there was no reason to, really, but the white-haired Hessean did allow his fingers to brush the keys, impressed by just how out of tune the thing was.

[Shae]

Roalis 23, 2719 | Noon-ish
The Black Dove, Old Rose Harbor

.

Sweet Lady, the day was half gone and Shae had barely started it! It was all Kit's fault really, not that they'd really place the blame on him, except in a playful teasing way. The galdor sometimes had moods, dark and spiralling, sucking down joy as readily as debris caught in a whirlpool. They weren't as frequent or turbulent as they had once been, at least as far as the raen could tell but they still came and went. They had spent time distracting him, attempting to put a bit of cheer into him and generally making a fuss. Sometimes though, it was as good an idea to leave him be as it was to try to draw him out of it. The youth had made him comfortable and teased that it was his turn to stay at home and be pretty, to make the place nice and tidy while they went off to be the breadwinner. As of yet, they hadn't settled on a place to earn their bread.

The teenager had hovered by typical corners, chewing on the inside of their cheek as they palmed their battered pawn shop guitar from one hand to the other. It was hot enough, even with the sea breeze sweeping in from the harbour so that the sun drew sweat from their pores while the stir of briny air cooled it stickily on their skin. The damp gathered unpleasantly at the inside of the youth's elbows where their white shirt sleeves were bunched up, the fabric possibly somewhat transparent in other places but the raen didn't much care, having popped buttons at the top to let the air down their rather loose, short stays. They were glad that they'd worn a skirt though, the colourful garment falling to just past the knee but loose enough to let air circulate freely. They were tempted to roll the band so that they could hike it higher but then it would mean fiddling with their suspenders and they didn't want the effort.

It wasn't the sort of day where they wanted to remain standing on some corner, sun beating down on them relentlessly from directly overhead while they tried to play guitar and sing, hoping that people might stop to listen and throw coins into the battered cap that would be better off on Shae's head, keeping the sun off their dark hair.

It was the hottest part of the day, going to be that way for a house, more. It would hardly be sensible to do that to themself, standing there and getting heat stroke. They were a pale and pretty thing, admittedly a bit less pale now but they didn't need their skin to cook and their brain to scramble. The best option was to take shelter or at least find a cooler spot until the summer sun was past its meridian. It didn't mean that the former wick intended to sit on their arse somewhere but it didn't mean that a bit of relaxation out of the question.

The youth made a beeline for the Black Dove, the bar a regular haunt for them since they'd come to the Rose. They'd been wary of it for a time earlier in the year, worried that their husband - well, Cordelia's - had succeeded in tracking them there and thus, they'd spent a fair amount of time avoiding it, at least when they were alone. Now Shae felt more comfortable and was also better known by the locals, certain that if any thugs came looking for them that they'd have people to stick up for them. Their connection with Kit certainly helped but they were someone to be liked in their own right and had garnered some friends because of it. Their size and seeming vulnerability also helped as well as their new sex; many old sea dogs and ruffians wanted to protect Shae like their own daughters. The raen wasn't entirely sure that they minded.

As they approached the bar, the noise of it reached them first, the chatter of excited and drunken voices, the raucous laughter and bawdy jokes as bodies pressed in upon each other. Hot day, it made sense that others had thought to seek out the watering hole. The musician had been hoping for a liquor-loosened crowd so that a few strums of the guitar and some singing would bring the coin raining in but this was better than expected; they were easy pickings.

Either they weren't the only one to have thought so or it was coincidental but they weren't the only one with an instrument it seemed. They heard the awful, discordant sound of piano keys being hammered on and had to suppress a wince. They hadn't seen many of the instruments in their time. Some of the houses of ill repute in the Dives were said to have them but the teenager had never been in those. They were meant to be expensive things, pianos, although they had seen their first examples in the Rose albeit not many. None of them had been in particularly good nick of course but they were still fascinating things. The Gillespie household might have had one, and a good quality one at that, but the raen hadn't been overly concerned with the house's contents when they'd fled.

The piano outside the Black Dove was in even worse shape than other examples that Shae had seen, the upright evidently having lived a rough life. It was a bizarre sight outside the familiar bar though, strangely out of place in front of the establishment. The man who had been playing ('playing' was a kind descriptor for what he'd been doing) was shooed back into the bar as they watched and they realised with a start that they were simply standing in the street and staring. They'd been struck with such wonder, observing the scene unfolding before them that they'd allowed themself to become a spectator. Now as the strange white haired man moved to the instrument, fingers testing the keys to release some off-tune notes, Shae veritably crept forward.

They hadn't seen this man before or anyone like him but he was an odd one. Colour to his skin and none to his hair, the snowy strands contrasting sharply against the tan. Somewhere between handsome and pretty, strongly built and either a taller galdor or a smaller wick or human. From his looks alone, the seeming Bastian galdor gained no clue of what he was but as their own discordant and porven field entered his range, they felt the emptiness around him. Not a galdor or a wick then, least not one with magic. They knew galdori trapped their magicless offspring in their university in Brunnhold but he might have been parse; they'd heard of such things.

"Hi!" the raen greeted brightly, pink summoned to their cheeks as they smiled a little self-consciously at him, well aware that they'd been ogling him as much as the instrument, possibly more. "The piano... is it yours?" they questioned, tucking a dark strands behind their ear beneath the cap they wore. Their hair was getting longer and they were on the fence about whether to slice it short again or not.

They knew it was unusual, the shortened locks hardly a feminine marker but they also still weren't sure how they wanted to present themself. If this stranger had been raised with wicks then he probably wouldn't consider their appearance odd but they also knew that others, notably humans were rather taken aback by them. Especially now that their style of dress was becoming more mixed. Cap and shirt and suspenders, all more masculine markers although the swell of their chest was a bit of a physical giveaway. But it might just be put down to wickish weirdness, not that they looked like one with their golly features. The riot of colours in their skirt and the bold blue-green powder smeared above their eyelids definitely pointed to the sensibilities of one of the half-breeds though.

"I've seen them but I've never had an opportunity to play it. Not that I could of course! Well... I could probably pick out the notes if it was tuned," they conceded, switching the guitar to their left hand while they reached towards the black and white keys with childish curiosity. They caught themself with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, do you mind if I...?"

[Lars]

IN & OUTSIDE THE BLACK DOVE
ROALIS 23, 2719 ꧁꧂ AROUND NOON

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Dust came to cover his fingertips as he played a key here and there, although a few keys in the lower range were beaten beyond repair, soundless when touched. He pressed them, again, listened for the hammer inside, and was greeted again with what sounded like a muffled, quiet drum but no note. For a moment he debated seeing if the top panel would remove easily, if he could look inside and see just how damaged the instrument was - but before he could, his attention was shifted, a voice alerting him to another's presence.

They hadn't come from inside the tavern, but they must've been quiet approaching - that or he just hadn't paid enough attention. That was probable; the passive couldn't help his distraction when faced with a piano, new or old. It'd been stupid of him to let his guard down with someone approaching, a voice jabbed at him, but his expression did little to reveal his concerns.

The stranger was a curious sight, conforming not entirely to either masculine nor feminine standards, and Lars would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't a bit confused. Old Rose was certainly a massive shift from Brunnhold in terms of one's appearance, demeanor, lifestyle - but it was still so new to him. He'd been overjoyed just to know that he could wear something other than a uniform, for once, but it was clear that some residents of the port town had spent their entire lives getting to wear whatever they wanted, some without a care and others painfully vain.

His family was - no, had been - quite traditional, not differing all too much from the galdori men and women he'd seen in Brunnhold. His mother had always had a fondness for exquisite gowns and corsets (so much so that she'd made him wear corsets beneath his clothing, as well), favoring golden hues complimented with yellows, oranges, reds. His father, similarly, had always dressed in fine button-ups and ties, dark golden tailcoats - Lars had learned to style himself (or, to let Aldiron style him) the same, in waistcoats and jackets imported from other kingdoms. He'd never have even thought to have worn a skirt, or for his mother to wear trousers.

He had seen plenty of women in trousers now, and that notion wasn't a strange one to him - they were practical covering for the legs, and women had legs, didn't they? But admittedly he hadn't seen too many men wearing skirts, or gowns, or... come to think of it, he'd mostly seen them without clothing at all. Perhaps he hadn't paid attention.

The Hessean shook his head in response, light eyes fixed upon what he could only assume was a galdor. The field was strange, almost chaotic - but their size and their features pointed only toward the highborn race he'd once belonged to. Or... perhaps not, he supposed he'd never actually been one of them beyond in name.

"No, it's not mine," he answered, taking a step back, "I'm not sure it belongs to anyone, actually." He doubted the man that'd tried shoving it into the tavern had purchased the worn-out thing, he'd probably just found it somewhere around the harbor and decided to place a claim upon it. Lars' head tilted slightly, eyes still unremoved from the galdor, his inspection of them hardly subtle as they spoke.

Finally glancing away, the passive offered a shrug of his shoulder, "go for it," and moved to allow them better access to the keys. He slipped behind the upright, setting his arms upon the top wooden panel and leaning forward only slightly, gray gaze watching the keys.

"I'm Cailan," offered the white-haired man, "that's your guitar, I assume? I've not seen one up close."

That certainly hadn't been an instrument his parents had favored. They claimed it a sound best left to wicks and humans, not sophisticated enough for a galdor, but getting to hear it in the harbor had been pleasant thus far.

[Shae]

Roalis 23, 2719 | Noon-ish
The Black Dove, Old Rose Harbor

.

He was eyeing their appearance. It wasn't surprising but it did still draw a self-conscious blush from them. They still weren't fully at home in how they presented although at least they weren't afraid here, just shy. In their past life, wearing a little eyeliner had been an act of rebellion but one that had made their guts twist with anxiety and fear. They could never have worn such eye make-up as Shae the wick, never mind a skirt, not after- But it was strange to have people stare. They tried to own it, acting as if they'd meant to draw attention to themself, which wasn't entirely wrong, but in truth, they weren't used to being consumed like this. The raen still wasn't entirely comfortable in this body, it was still Cordelia's and not theirs but maybe if it became truly theirs...

They moved nearer, conscious of the fact that he increased the distance. Was it the field? They wished that they could draw it in, smother it entirely but they'd never done that even in their former life so they wouldn't know where to begin, even if they were capable. The particles were wild and uncontrollable around them, discordant and liable to snap at the body and the fugitive soul within it from inside the shattered aura. Kit seemed to manage okay, he'd gotten used to it they supposed but for others unaccustomed to it... Shae hoped that it didn't feel truly awful to the man before her. They didn't want to cause them discomfort simply by existing.

"It doesn't belong to anyone? I don't know if that's better or worse. It's sad, I guess. It hasn't got a home and it could really do with some love by the look of it," Shae commented, lips pulled into a sorrowful smile. They felt an odd affinity to the instrument. They'd been like it once, in a poor state on the street with no home to go to, broken and in need of care. Their galdor roommate had taken them in thankfully but they didn't think that they could pay it forward. The former wick had no idea what to do with it, what restoration it might need and they'd never be able to move it. And besides, what would they do with it? It wasn't as if they could play it although maybe Kit could. It was a galdori instrument after all.

"If no one owns it, do you think that means that it's free for the taking? Not that I-" they began, shaking their head with a brighter smile this time.

They pretended not to notice that he was creating distance between them as they moved to the keyboard, circling away from the raen albeit in a nonchalant fashion. Was it coincidence or was he actually bothered?

Stop it! Don't be paranoid... they chastised themself.

They rested the base of their guitar on the ground, keeping one hand around its neck while the other moved to the dusty and cracked keys. There were plenty of white keys - yellowed now - and they ran from one end to the other without breaks but the black ones were also quite prevalent, slotted between white keys in sets of twos or threes. Shae wondered what the difference was. Was each key a note? If so then it was more linear than a guitar, easier to play a scale on. It'd have to be in tune though and given how well the rest of it had been taken care of, they doubted that. How did you even tune the thing?

They pressed one key, finger bouncing on it once, twice before moving to the one adjacent to it. They moved up a few keys with a frown and a wince. The youth could be playing it incorrectly but... it didn't sound right. There were notes that almost sounded familiar but they didn't gel well with the other keys around them. They tried some of the black keys as well and couldn't tell what was so different about them, probably difficult to determine when the notes were all wrong. Some of the keys didn't even seem to produce music although there was a dull thump from somewhere within the body, the subtle vibration felt in the key itself.

They were frowning at the keyboard when the other introduced himself, the raen belatedly remembering that they were meant to introduce themself; it was a thing that people did. However, before they could offer their own name in return, he mentioned the guitar and they gawked at him, blinking stupidly.

"You've never- How have you never seen a guitar up close? A piano is one thing, it's a golly instrument but a guitar? They're everywhere! I don't know how many Tekaa kovs I know that play it and some humans but they all..." they trailed off, reddening. They'd assumed, hadn't they? He might still be galdor but hiding his field or passive. He might even be some tsat parse who'd never been exposed to such things. If Shae's own father had been tsat instead of a spoke musician then maybe they would have been in a similar position. And they'd slipped in some Tek in their surprise and it wasn't as if everyone in the Rose knew it.

"Sorry. Here, you can have a look at it if you like. I'm Shae by the way," the youth explained, lifting and tilting the instrument so that they could pass it to Cailan over the top of the piano. "It's nice to meet you, Cailan. Ent like I know you so I shouldn't assume what you know and what you don't. Folks are all different, I know that well enough."

They shrugged, well aware that their experience was an odd one. Not many people knew what it was like to die.

"You can try it out if you like, it's tuned, I can manage that much at least," the teenager laughed. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me that you can play this, are you? If you can, I'd be interested in learning about it."

A hand waved over the piano to indicate it.

[Lars]

IN & OUTSIDE THE BLACK DOVE
ROALIS 23, 2719 ꧁꧂ AROUND NOON

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Lars couldn't help but wonder why they seemed to... sympathize, with the old upright. The thing was worn and beaten, and despite whatever former status it'd had or owner it'd belonged to at one point, it was still just a trashed piano. He loved the things, but he held no attachment to any given one. This one was more of a nuisance than anything; it'd dragged him away from the bar, where he could've been scoping people out and otherwise relaxing, and all because some drunken sailor had decided it a good idea to bring it to the tavern. Still, though this was certainly unlike the pianos he'd played in his childhood (he much preferred the grand that'd been in his bedroom), it was still a gateway to something that he loved.

"Hm," he hummed, resting his chin in one of his palms as he leaned over more, "yes, I suppose if anyone wants it they're free to take it. I doubt the man that brought it here is going to put up much of a fight."

The passive's eyes moved up from the dusty keys, looking to the galdor and noticing the brighter smile that now resided on their face. It pulled one corner of his own mouth upward, just enough to be considered a smile. They were a cheerful thing, this galdor, or at least they were today. He could admire that, he supposed, though he'd never been a particularly cheerful thing himself. Even in his childhood; he'd been happier, sure, but not pleasant. Anyone could've called him bratty, arrogant, even cruel and they would've been right. The seventeen years that'd followed hadn't allowed for much cheer either - and though the worse aspects of himself had been pushed down and buried, he'd been little more than a shell. One couldn't be all that happy when they didn't really feel anything at all.

It was true that the piano was hardly fit to make lovely sounds, as was made evidenced by the galdor's fiddling with the keys, but at least they weren't banging their hands upon it like the man before. Lars figured one just needed to play the right things, with an instrument such as this. He was contemplating the matter when the galdor spoke again, forcing gray eyes to lift to their face once more to find them gawking at him.

Ah, right. Maybe that hadn't been wise to say. Still, he couldn't feign an understanding of the stringed instrument, and he was curious about it. There was a word or two that he didn't quite get from their speech - Tekaa, kovs - but that wasn't unusual for him these days; in Brunnhold it'd been fancy, scientific words, and in the Rose it was some other fuckin' language. At least now he had an excuse for not understanding. Oh he was sure he could pick up on the guttural language if he truly wished, but thus far it had been unappealing, a collection of noises made only to confuse and frustrate him.

"I'm... not from around here. I've been in the harbor for less than a month, actually. It's nice to meet you as well, Shae," offered Lars, the passive straightening up behind the piano and taking the guitar from them. It was.... a bigger thing than he'd expected, up close. All the stringed instruments he'd seen before had been small, easily carried around, able to fit under one's chin. The guitar was almost as big as Shae, and he found himself wondering how on Vita people carried the instruments around everywhere and just played wherever they pleased.

It wasn't heavy, just... awkward in his hold, the man not meant for such things. He brushed a thumb down the strings, producing a full, open chord, but was at a loss as to what else one was meant to do. Aware that wicks and humans alike strummed in patterns and produced an array of sounds, but unwilling to make a fool of himself and try - perhaps he could learn it if he tried, but it was strange. So when Shae mentioned the piano again, Lars looked up from the guitar, offering a small nod in response.

"Of course I can," and with that he moved around the upright again, gently setting the guitar to rest against Shae's side of it, in case they wanted to grab it again. Lars didn't appear to mind the lack of distance from the galdor's strange field as he went to stand beside them, even though it pricked at his skin just the same, and let his hands rest at the center of the piano. Fingers curled slightly, he followed a minor scale up the keys, dissonant in nature and slightly jarred from the piano's age but cohesive nonetheless.

"It's a bit harder with it being so out of tune, of course, but it's not impossible. Here," hesitantly, Lars moved closer, placing a hand lightly atop Shae's, "if the guitar's anything like the piano, it shouldn't be difficult for you to learn," and guided their hand through one of the easiest of scales - a G major, something he figured they could recognize so long as their instrument of choice still included it.

"It's all laid out in order, of course - once you learn the notes, it's just like reading a book."

Yeah, the only type of book you can read.

He lifted his hand from theirs, then, pulling it back to his side, "ah, sorry. Didn't mean to impose - it's been a while since I've played."

[Shae]

Roalis 23, 2719 | Noon-ish
The Black Dove

.

The piano was certainly a fascinating instrument and there was a high probability that Kit would appreciate it as well but they were fairly certain that a big upright was not the kind of 'stray' that he wanted them to bring home. There was no way they could transport it and no bloody way that they could fit it where they were staying. If you owned a house then you could keep a thing like this but not if you only had a couple of rooms. A pauper with a piano, there was a laugh!

"I think having room for a guitar is a stretch to be honest," they commented wryly, the raen gesturing at the larger instrument and chuckling a little. It was ridiculous for them to have asked but they'd done it anyway. Impractical and spontaneous really, which described Shae perfectly.

As they passed the guitar over, the man felt the need to explain himself, to voice excuses for his lack of knowledge and the teenager gave an airy wave of dismissal, shaking their head. "It's okay, you don't have to explain. I'm from Vienda myself, spent far too many years trapped in a shop doing work for little thanks. I only know about music 'cos it's in my blood. Probably wouldn't have known about guitars or wanted to play one 'cept it's what my da did - not that I saw him often," the youth explained, the words slipping easily from their tongue before they went still, crimson creeping into their complexion.

The former wick had gotten good at keeping secrets. Oh they couldn't lie for shit but when you kept your mouth tightly shut, it was very easy to keep secrets because they had no chance to escape. The raen had very carefully not given Kit any information for months, being little better than a leech as they used him for food, shelter, affection, everything and it was honestly no wonder that he'd hurled that at them back in Bethas. The secrecy, the lack of information, the fact that they were basically a stranger in his home.

And yet, as soon as Shae was presented with a new person, they just let the information go. Easy, friendly chatter that rolled readily from their tongue. They gave information to people they would likely never meet again with a shocking amount of ease. Damn, they'd told Kit's witch lover, Delyth, more about themself than they'd ever told the man they loved. They'd just done it with Cailan, happily providing him with information about their previous life quicker than a heartbeat because they were bonding. There was a definite twinge of guilt but they also had the horrible feeling that they'd end up telling him more anyway. It was all too easy to talk to those who were pleasant company and who had no real ties to them. Their galdor roommate was a lifeline and so they didn't have that same freedom with him, even if he was exceedingly pleasant.

Their new companion strummed an open chord and the raen hummed appreciatively, the resonance one that they could never imagine disliking. He wasn't familiar with it though so it was unsurprising that he didn't try anything further. The youth was willing to demonstrate although they had no illusions about their own prowess with it; they managed to get by. Maybe he would have asked for tips if they hadn't asked about his ability as a pianist.

They smirked at his matter-of-fact response while he moved around the upright. Of course he knew how to play it, what a silly question! The man hadn't seen a guitar up close before but seemingly thought it was a given that he knew how to play the piano. They shook their head slightly. Unbelievable. They liked his confidence though, they did have something of a fondness for attractive people who knew their way around an instrument. Well... attractive people in general actually but that wasn't important.

Shae would have moved out of his way but he was suddenly there and didn't appear to have any issue with them being where they were. In fact, he reached out to place a guiding hand on their own. The teenager relaxed, not offering the least amount of resistance and they allowed themself to be led through the scale.

"I don't know that they're anything alike. I think... this might be more straightforward. Maybe," they explained, voice hushed so as not to drown out the sounds of the keys. Even out of tune, it was lovely, its tone so different from a guitar's. It was beautiful in a way that the stringed instrument was not, sweetly sophisticated. They cocked their head, scarcely daring to breathe as they listened to each note and mentally tried to place their sounds. There was a natural progression and it was easy to see how it worked, only the end of the octave catching them by surprise in terms of the keys that were pressed.

Cailan drew back, apologetic.

"No, don't apologise! I'm glad you showed me, it makes sense and it's... it's beautiful," they murmured, the initial brightness giving way to a choked tone, shining grey-blue eyes turned his way showed the full depth of their emotion; they were close to tears. "I'm grateful and you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand the... the love of something like this. I went chasing it, took to the streets to do it..."

And died because of it.

If they'd stayed safe in the shop instead of pursuing dreams that their mother had always seen as somewhat frivolous then they would never have been caught on the Viendan streets when the riots started. They would have avoided the chaos and they also wouldn't have been so preoccupied with keeping their guitar safe. The wood of the instrument had been shattered as readily as their own body had been. So stupid. So bloody stupid of them!

They shook away the dark cloud that had descended, the miserable cast on their face disappearing as they smiled again like sun shining down after rain. "You should play properly! Maybe we could play together! I'm sure that we can find something that we have in common, even if it's only simple and I can sing although I'll admit that I'm hardly fit for the uh... opera?"

They snorted. "As if I know what opera sounds like but I do know they've got good voices, well-trained. I don't but if you'd be willing to put up with me, especially in a place like this then you'd be doing me a favour. Both of us a favour actually. With the crowd in there, we'd probably rake in a load of coin and I'd be happy to split it, only fair. But you'll also get to play and enjoy yourself."

It was an excellent idea! They found themself flipping the cap off their head, ruffling their dark hair to let the air at their scalp. They were all set to put the hat down, brim up before they realised that not everyone was a performer and that the other might not want to do that. Bloody assumptions.

"Sweet Lady! I should really shut my head, shouldn't I? You probably don't want to- Why would you want to play with me or a crowd? You probably just came for a drink, not to be bothered by some wick idiot with more enthusiasm than sense! Forget I said anything."

Grinning sheepishly, they twisted the hat in their hands.

[Lars]

IN & OUTSIDE THE BLACK DOVE
ROALIS 23, 2719 ꧁꧂ AROUND NOON

text

They were from Vienda - he wanted to say that he'd never been to the city, ask them about what it was like there, but caught himself before the words could tumble out. He didn't need to offer more fuel for the fire that was the question of where he was from, and where he'd been living for the better half of the last two decades. That would do no one any good. It was best to leave Dorhaven out of sight and out of mind, and Brunnhold was the same - a disaster that he was simply grateful to have gotten out of. There wasn't any reason to dwell - everything and everyone in that fortress had been left behind, allowed no room to reside in his waking mind, and that's the way it would stay. That was how he stayed here, how he kept himself from any suspicions, how he managed when thrust into a new life so different from the one he'd known.

So he said nothing of Vienda and his wish to one day visit.

Thankfully the galdor didn't pull away or tense up when he offered assistance with the keys, allowing his fingers to guide theirs easily across the ivory surfaces. He'd never have imagined that it would feel strange to touch someone without it leading to something more, but it did, now. Only a couple weeks ago he'd given himself to the Mad Queen, only then learned what it meant to be close, really close to someone, and already it was as if it'd been a part of his life forever.

But it was nice to just touch someone's hand, even if he wasn't getting paid for it, and he was grateful that his gesture wasn't misunderstood and dismissed. It allowed him the pleasure of almost smiling when Shae determined the piano and its sound beautiful, even if he couldn't understand why they suddenly appeared almost upset, eyes glazed with emotion. He wondered if he was meant to say something comforting your comfort isn't wanted or offer his arms out to embrace them see how well that goes this time or simply leave them alone, but fortunately they continued to speak and didn't seem to need any of it.

What was that?

Lars nodded lightly, taking it to mean that music was... very important to Shae. More than a hobby or a means to an end, and he could admire someone that did things because they loved to do them, because they had passion. Music hadn't meant as much to him as a child, when he had all the time and the freedom to play it, but after years upon years of silence it had come to mean a lot more to him. The strange galdor had appeared to have cheered themselves up again just as quickly as they'd succumbed to the darkness, flashing him another smile bright enough to light a room. It was almost disorienting, how quickly they shifted, and he wondered briefly if that was what it was like to be around him, too.

"Play... properly?" the passive followed along with a tilted head, unsure at first of what they meant. They... wanted to hear him play? As a child he would play for hours out of boredom, alone in his room and only occasionally helped out by Aldiron when he needed clarification in the sheetmusic. On Clock's Eve he'd waited until everyone was gone and the hall was left dark to sneak in a song, afraid of the potential consequences if someone heard. Playing for - or with - someone else... that wasn't an idea he was familiar with.

Still, he shook his head when the galdor seemed unsure of the suggestion. And - did they say wick? They were... a wick? It didn't make any sense in his head, but he didn't allow himself to linger on it, glancing back to the piano.

"No, you're - you're fine, Shae. That sounds... fun," admitted the white-haired passive, looking to them with a half-smile, "I've never played with anyone else, but I can try."

Hands tentatively went to rest atop the keys again, slightly curled and itching to move, and breathed in silence for a moment before nodding to himself. Right. He played a major chord, the sound open and full despite the tonal differences the strings within caused. He could just play something - just anything, he could just throw a few chords together that'd be easy enough for someone else to follow. Why was it difficult? Little chords were easy, they were nothing.

He played another, then, and another, slightly more sure of himself but conscious of the warmth at the back of his shoulders at the notion that someone was... listening. He'd been trained classically for years, this shouldn't be so... whatever it was. Another nod to himself, another few words of reassurance in his mind, and Lars settled into a light progression of minors and rising tones, light eyes glancing over to Shae almost nervously.

[Shae]

Roalis 23, 2719 | Noon-ish
The Black Dove

.

They were all aflutter, movement trembling through them as if they couldn’t remain still. In truth, they weren’t sure that they could. Hands twisted the cap, shoulders twitched and feet shuffled. Even the muscles in their face moved, the raen oscillating between a bright smile, a worried frown and a nervous smile. Back and forth, fro and to, all because their mouth had gotten ahead of them. That and their excitement. They’d allowed the excitement to drive them forward, giddy as a child as they grew excited at the prospect of listening to him play properly and having the chance to play along. It wasn’t as if they’d never had a chance to play with anyone but they were rather self-conscious when it came to playing with Kit. If he played the guitar then they were all too aware of their own flaws, his own playing providing an unpleasant contrast with their own. They weren’t sure that he was a better musician but he was just so certain, so confident when he did it that they could only ever feel a bit lesser. Besides, it was better that they sing — another thing that he seemed to be able to do better — while he played, it wasn’t as if they could both play together on the streets. But the idea of playing with someone else who used a different instrument — and yes, it would probably sound off, which would make them feel better about themselves — was quite an exciting one.

“I say properly b-b-but I really mean play, just play. You know actually play rather th-th-than…” they trailed off, flapping a hand in the air as if that would do as well as actual words.

The teenager was in a dither now as they feared that they’d upset Cailan. He seemed quite reserved and probably didn’t want to deal with a crowd, or Shae for that matter. No, not reserved, sensible — that was it! He was older and more sensible and more mature, maybe he didn’t even come from their sort of background. He had sophistication and now he was being bothered by this small, overly excitable wick in a golly’s body who didn’t always know their erse from their elbow and they were trying to tell him what to do and-

"Oh!" they blurted in surprise, unable to believe that he’d agreed and honestly didn’t look like he minded. It was the last thing they’d-

But this was great!

The anxious energy in the youth altered so that they were bouncing on the balls of their feet, barely shy of jumping up and down with giddiness. They half-threw, half-dropped the cap that they held, almost diving after it so that they could reposition it brim up to collect coins.

“So we’re doing this now? Of course, we’re doing this now, what am I saying? Forget I said anything,” they explained, gaze darting to his posture of readiness before the keyboard. Obviously they were doing this now — when else would they have done it? Well, they could have gone to get a drink or three in the Black Dove but then they probably wouldn’t be capable of real playing, they knew how that went!

Work now, pleasure later.

Not that this wouldn’t be pleasurable enough! Really, the youth was just mixing the two but they could leave the fun minus work until later.

Maybe this was a bit more work rather than pleasure though, mainly because the erstwhile wick thought they were a bit nervous and that’s why they were dealing with that wild fluttering in their stomach that made them feel a bit sick. Not to mention that they were still trembling, the anxious energy not entirely transformed by the man’s positive response, the teenager still incapable of remaining still, even when they tried it. It’d be embarrassing if they ended up slipping and sliding all over the strings, not pressing them cleanly against the frets and twanging adjacent strings by mistake.

Despite their hyperactivity and emotional turmoil, Shae retrieved their guitar and moved to the side of the upright, leaning lightly against it for support. It was possible to play while standing, plenty of people could do it but the raen had never been one of them. They’d been awkwardly long limbed in their last iteration, still coming to terms with the height that manhood had gifted them, and in this one, they were more likely to simply fall over while trying to deal with the size of the instrument.

They raised one leg, crossing it in the vicinity of the knee belonging to the other and wiggled a bit until they had both balance and their thigh was at a level against which the guitar’s body could rest. Cradling the neck in their left hand, they positioned the body accordingly, licking their lips as they wondered if they should attempt to match what Cailan played or harmonise. Honestly, it’d be tricky enough to match, especially as they didn’t know what he might-

Agh! He was already starting!

Well, a note here and a note there but that was how it always went! There was that initial uncertainty and then wham! You got a feel for things and went for it; Cailan was doing just that. He was left playing alone for a few moments, the raen nodding along, flashing a quick encouraging smile over their shoulder at him while they positioned their fingers in configurations that thought would sound right — or at least they hoped so!

Strumming as lightly as they could, head cocked, the musician listened to the humming notes, testing them out carefully. A chord could be played only so softly before you risked not playing it at all so while they were being quiet, there was the unmistakable guitar twang under the unique sound of the battered old upright. The youth fell into an easy pattern, something to provide backing to what the other played, strumming first one chord and then another, switching back and forth between them for a varying number of strums, fast then slow, never quite the same from loop to loop. It added a jaunty rhythm to whatever this was, probably not a typical accompaniment to a piano but Shae didn’t know. They thought that it worked though.

As they gained confidence, they grew louder, not so loud that they risked overpowering what their companion was playing but certainly loud enough to be heard by those who wandered out. It wasn’t clear if their playing had cut through the noise in the bar and drawn curious listeners that way or if someone had popped their head out and seen them, news of their presence spreading by way of mouth. A small group for now but if the man couldn’t stand the attention of a crowd, he’d find out soon enough.