Shelter from the Storm (open)

by **Krishpeh** on March 5th, 2012, 11:47 pm

The 3rd of Spring, in the year 512 AV

Krishpeh glanced around nervously. Having never spent much time in a city before this, he wasn't used to crowds or tight spaces. Perhaps he was claustrophobic. He wasn't sure. Whatever the case, he was not enjoying the quarters he had been assigned--an objectively large catacomb that had been shoved full of enough people to make it, relative to the crowd inside, like a mass grave. I should stop thinking like that, he thought, It's not going to change my situation, and it looks like enough people have already had that same thought.

This was quite true. Among the people crammed into the shelter, more than a few were jittering wrecks. Either that, or where screaming to be let out of there. Krishpeh could understand where they were coming from--a harsh storm could kill them all, could destroy their homes, could lay to waste all that they had ever known--but didn't particularly sympathize with them. After all, he was new to this city, he had few possessions, and virtually no one knew who he was. He was trapped here too, unable to see what was happening or how soon they would be let free. And yet, you didn't see him screaming in frustration or fright. Then again, he had already left his home behind long ago.

Then he looked up again, a thought coming to his mind. In the past weeks since entering the city, he had not been able to find employment. Perhaps this was a perfect chance to kill two birds with one stone--he could display his talent and at the same time perhaps make this confinement a bit easier to bear. Of course, it was also likely to annoy some...but he would have to count on more people being impressed than annoyed. He made his way over to a corner, stumbling over people in the process.

When he got there, he swung his fiddle off his shoulder. He was careful about this part--if it looked like he was slinging the sharp steel scythe, he could accidently cause a riot. Funny, he mused, how a situation like this leaves people balancing on a razor blade, one side, calm and the other hysteria, with only a gentle breeze enough to push the either way. Perhaps he could use that in a song someday. As for now--

He was done quietly tuning the fiddle, and now he set the bow properly on the strings. This fiddle had been his father's, and the woodwork had been painstakingly carved by his mother. It was his most prized possession. With the horsehair bow he coaxed out a simple but cheerful dance tune that nearly everyone in the known world was sure to recognize. It was simple enough that he didn't miss a note, though when he added his voice to the song it cracked a little from nervousness.

I've heard of a land
where the hills can dance
where the sky and trees all proudly sing

The sky is clear
and the harvest fair
and their people love their king.

Away, lass, away with me,
out to paradise,
Do not doubt
do not think twice.

And so forth for about twenty verses. At about verse eight a few people began to sing along. When he was done, he paused to gauge the crowd's reaction.

by **Retananil** on March 7th, 2012, 2:04 am

The crammed conditions were truly wearing on Retananil's patience. Normally the stocky Isurian could in the company of a human for hours with only a deepening scowl to show the emotions her company brought forth in her. Underneath Syliras though with a storm raging above and nothing but rock and metal below, Retananil felt smothered in humans.

Her green eyes were overshadowed by the ridge across her brow. Her scowl, though, could not be mistaken as merely a biproduct of her Isurian heritage. Some people here knew she was...

Her train of thought faded as she heard a most welcome sound in this death trap of a hidey hole. Music. Stumbling, yes, and cracked, but music nonetheless. Her head canted to the side as she listened, trying to identify the instrument, the song, or the voice. The language was easy enough. Everyone here seemed to speak it.

The Isur turned her head, looking for the sound, trying in futility to see over the heads of taller men and women. Others were turned as well, allowing her to turn her body easier. Through the gaps between bodies, she saw a man with skin darker than most others and black hair playing upon a fiddle and singing before he was obscured. Curiousity tweaked, she laboured to get a clearer view of the man, using her extra bulk to literally shove men and women out of her way. She muttered her apologies every so often.

by **Pryth** on March 7th, 2012, 9:15 am

A small child moved between the tall adults, coming up only to most of their waist's. Pryth moved quickly threw them, not being able to do it without being noticed due to being nearly crushed on all sides by the body's. He glanced up at the roof and shuddered, he really didn't like it in here.

Pryth made his way to the backs of the people, his hands reaching upwards towards the pockets of those that he knew he could easily steal from, valuables easily in their pockets, treasures people couldn't stand to lose. He hadn't taken anything yet but he was torn between taking these things in order to survive but he knew what it meant to them, his hand unconsciously to the bracelet on his wrist.

He finally made it to backs of the cave where the people had thinned out more, the crowd of them seemed to be close to the entrance and less at the back. He sighed to himself and leaned against the wall and glanced around. It was about at that point when music started to play threw out the cavern, the mass of people moving towards it. He looked around eagerly his child side desperately wanting to see source of it. He sighed after a moment and just closed his eyes listening to the sound of it.

About in the third verse someone was pushed into him, his head being ground against the stone wall, lights appearing beneath his eyelids. He heard an apology from someone but didn't open his eyes at that point, gripping the back of his head with his palms, his eyes tightly closed as tears threatened to sweep between them, the calming sound of the song lost to him now.

by **Krishpeh** on March 8th, 2012, 4:17 am

When he looked up, Krishpeh saw he had the crowd's attention, at least a little. He grew a little nervous, but was surprised that he wasn't paralyzed with stage fright. This was his first time he had ever performed for an audience other than in a recital for other students in his Hold. He had left the violin case out, open at his feet, and had put a small bronze-edged Miza into it, to encourage people to donate to him. He hoped the tall scythe he carried on his back would be enough to discourage any potential thieves. He hoped the crowd would notice--he needed money desperately. If this didn't get him either donations or a job, he would have to leave the city, at least he would when the storm had passed and they were allowed outside again.

He stood silently for a moment more. What would his next song be? The simple, familiar melody of the last song was probably enough to get the attention he had, he just needed to hold it. He thought. He couldn't just do dances, that would bore his audience too quickly...but a lot of the rest of what he knew was in Vantha, and though that was a beautiful language, an unfamiliar language was sure to kill interest in this crowd unless done right. He made a decision. His next song would be this short but beautiful Vantha ballad he knew, and the song after that would be a quick, lively one with no words. Then he would start with one about a Vantha hero.

He raised the bow to his instrument and began to play. He knew how to play this song a bit better than the last one, but it was harder, so the final quality was about the same. His voice shook a little, but it was slight enough that it could be passed off as a mature vibrato. It only had about five verses, and lasted no more than a few minutes. He felt rather good about his performance there, but didn't dare look back at the case he had lain on the ground. If there wasn't much money there, he didn't want to know until later. And if it was full, he didn't want his relief to effect the performance. When he lowered his bow this time, he took a small bow, only appropriate for a more classical, sophisticated piece like this. And then he went abruptly into his next song, a very quick dance piece that brought the tropical sea to mind, and the wind rushing through the fields. The was nothing to sing with it, but he sincerely hoped people danced to it. He had no concentration to spare to find out--he wasn't quite sure of his fingering on the neck of the fiddle, as he hadn't really practiced this as much as he liked and it was a more difficult piece than he was used to. He missed a few notes here and there, but hoped it wasn't easy to notice. He brought his bow down with a jerk and looked around, not really seeing the crowd. Then he finally launched into his last song, lasting nearly half an hour, that told the story of a Vantha carver forced out of his home and making a name for himself in the rest of the world before finally settling down back in his old Hold years later. This was a very simple fiddle part, but the vocal part was much more involved, and his mouth was dry when he was done. He was tired. He looked back up at the crowd. He hoped they had enjoyed it.

by **Retananil** on March 13th, 2012, 12:28 am

Retananil now had a clear view of the man, unhindered by useless bodies. She didn't care if she hurt anyone in her single-minded determination to see things first hand. What was a scratch or bruise when compared to knowledge?

The man was odd looking, even more so than the humans. Her scowl deepened as she considered him, sidling closer just a bit. The songs he played were unfamiliar, entirely so, but that meant nothing. Her left hand reached to the bag she carried with her and took hold of the metal flute, which she drew out and, completely randomly, began to blow into. What she played with her fingers was a hodgepodge of notes, unsynchronised and kept in the realm of being actual music only by the subtle melody. The only song she knew how to actually play without sounding completely hopeless.

It was an Isurian melody that she laced into his, attempting to make them work, and to an extent she succeeded in complimenting him. It probably looked odd for an Isur to be playing such a small instrument. Her fingers stumbled over the key holes, but she didn't care. As long as no one mocked her, she wouldn't be bothered by this.

She stopped when he did, but didn't comment to him, instead staring at him out of her steely green eyes.

by **Pryth** on March 13th, 2012, 5:17 am

Pryth glanced upwards at a passerby, his grey eyes filled with anger and pain along with tears. He head was still stinging at that point from the bashing of the rocky wall. He slowly stood up again before disappearing back within the crowd feigning being pushed into people, his small hands delving within pockets and small bags, stealing few coins and other random items. He didn't smile with each successful looting of pockets, he seem to become more calm and moved quicker.

He didn't see it as evil or doing anything wrong, to him it was just part of his daily life, what he did in order to live and never being caught properly before meant that he had never been told that it was wrong or that he shouldn't, so why should he feel any guilt about it.

He soon ended up closer to the music, stopping more and more often as it got louder until the point that another instrument was added to the sound, he shuffled his way threw the crowd to the front just before hearing the end. He looked at the man and gave a small shy smile before looking down and reaching into his pockets. He had managed to steal about 13 miza's and a small shiny stone of some sort, he couldn't tell in this lighting tho. He moved to the case and placed 6 miza's in it along with the stone which he now saw was red before he stood up and moved back in the crowd, glancing back once before disappearing within it.

by **Krishpeh** on March 13th, 2012, 9:59 pm

When Krishpeh looked up, he was surprised to find a woman looking back at him from no more than a few feet away. She had a metal flute, and Krishpeh supposed she might have been playing with him just then. He wasn't sure, because he had been too involved in the playing and singing to notice anything around him. To him, her eyes seemed a bit of a challenge. He held her gaze for a moment. In his peripheral vision he noticed a little boy drop something in his violin case. He smiled a little, and then returned his internal attention to the woman. What was it she wanted? Was she angry at him? Krishpeh didn't think so, but he wasn't really that good at reading people's expressions. His eyes changed a little, from their normal black to a slight golden color. Really, how important was this meeting? He felt at the moment that the woman was quite important in his life, but only because she had just interrupted what he had thought would happen here. Was she really that interesting of character, or was it simply the situation? Given any other situation for meeting, would he remember her at all? It was an interesting question, one that delved deep into his own psyche and...

He stopped himself there, as the golden color in his eyes grew deep, and then turned back to black. There was a time and a place for everything, even meaningly philisophical musings, but this was not it. After a moment's more hesitation, he had decided what he would do. He raised his fiddle again, setting the bow on the strings and turning his gaze there as well. He played a swift set of notes that ended unresolved, like a question in the air. Then he looked back at the woman with the flute expectantly. The little stream of notes nearly begged to be repeated, challenged, or elaborated on. What would her response be?

by **Retananil** on March 24th, 2012, 5:40 am

Almost immediately, Retananil set the flute to her lips and inhaled deeply, her kind already imagining the fingering she would need to flick through as she responded.

Her melody was a throaty one in a lower octave. She imitated the melody, but couldn't do the notes because she didn't exactly know what it was that he had played. She did what came first to her mind and covered her stumbles with a steely green gaze that would cut metal.

When the stout Isur finished her own trill, she played a rapid succession of notes herself within the same throaty octave, a much longer winded one that ended on a held note. When she finished, she returned the challenging gaze to the man with the colour changing eyes.

She enjoyed the competition. It gave her a chance to improve her own finger work while giving her a way to prove her superiority.

She awaited his reply with bated breath, completely ignorant to the others around her. To her mind they were unimportant. For now.

by **Pryth** on March 30th, 2012, 7:02 am

Pryth moved only a little into the crowd before slowly moving back towards the sound of music again. He had to glance up at the roof as he slipped between the people who crowded the room, looking at the roof for an idea where the walls of this place would be.

After managing to step on a number of toe's and get a few curses thrown after him he managed to make it to the edge of the wall. He was able to squeeze along the wall until he was able to see the two performers.

He was just in front of the crowd when he sat against the wall, no one seemed to care since he was so small and short. He just sat down in front of the crowd and watched the music exchange.

It confused him how they seemed to pass a message between each other without words. He tilted his head slightly, being confused but watched intently anyways.

by **Krishpeh** on March 30th, 2012, 9:03 pm

Krishpeh smiled, then rocked forward slightly as he brought his bow down across the strings of his fiddle. He sawed away at the strings for a moment after the other woman was done, creating a string of notes that together nearly made a short song, with a quick and lively melody to it. The part wasn't hard, but it was fun to play and listen to. It sounded like a quick dance, but ended very abruptly in the middle of a thread of notes. When it got there, he looked up sharply at the flute-player to finish it. It was a fun little contest of musical ability, and not only was it fun, but it looked fun too, so there wasn't any danger of any sort of hard feelings between them or members of the crowd. And if it was fun to listen to, too, then he might be getting paid well. He didn't know because he was still deliberately not paying attention to the case. Instead, he was plotting his next move. He already knew what he would add to do better than this woman.