3rd of Summer, 515 AV
So many...
Jaquel Devaux was, of course, talking about the massive amount of people flooding Alvadas. He could see them, more than had been in Alvadas before Summer began. He'd been living with his parents during most of the Spring, and was glad that he'd finally moved out and fully into his new home; it would've been Hai if he'd waited and moved when it was officially Summer.
Not that he had much, being as broke as he was; mum had felt the need to cut Jaq off from any funding from them, so all he had was everything he'd owned himself and the violin which was given. It had still taken multiple trips, though, and Alvadas' tendency to switch around look some sort of game always made things more than irritating.
He grunted slightly as he watched the people. The Bard had never quite understood where they all came from, and why they came from there. He hadn't asked. In fact, he'd gone and stayed in his home since the beginning of Summer, practicing his fiddle, mostly.
Speaking of....
He looked over to where it was sitting on his table, bow and fiddle. The beauty of it was still something he admired, and was unable to get over; he sometimes sat for half a bell and just observed it, using his hands to explore its surfaces as if a lover in the night. It was previously his mother's, and her father's before that; all the way to the first Devaux Bard.
He got up, walking over to it. He gently picked up the bow; the hair was limp, as was supposed to be. He held the stick, making sure not to touch the hair; it wouldn't do to put his body's natural oil onto the thing. Wouldn't do in the slightest. Tightening the screw, he watched with the eyes of a hawk. Too tight, and there would be problems. Too limp, and there would be problems. He used the edge of his table to gently test, before setting it to the side.
He sat on his chair, picking up his fiddle as if he were handling a newborn. Jaquel put the chin rest on his jaw, under his earlobe, and let the lower back of the fiddle on his collar bone. His right hand moved to the neck, moving into position with practiced ease. The same with the bow; his left hand held it as if he'd had ample practice (which he has) and set the hair onto the string, between the bridge and fingerboard, right over the belly of the fiddle.
He drew the bow, and produced an headache-inducing screech. (Well, it wasn't that bad, but it was off enough at his skill level for Jaq to exaggerate it mentally.) Grimacing, he set his instrument down; it needed tuning, which the Bard did not feel like doing as of yet; it always seemed to take him hours to get everything just right, and it sounded like it had been whacked out of tune during the move.
He sighed. Off to mingle it is, then. He got up, leaving his fiddle and bow on the table for later. He was already dressed in his linen shirt and pants, so he just grabbed and shoved on his boots and slung his coat over his shoulder, making sure to put the key around his neck; he'd put it onto some string he'd pulled off his shirt, and used it to make a necklace.
He opened his door and joined the crowd of people, closing and locking his door before setting off to who know's where in this city.
