77 Summer 519
It was damp. Pluckett trudged her way up the road leading to the Scholar's Demise, gamba case on her back. During the day, she had marked down a rough song list to go through tonight.
The humidity was certainly not to be messed with. Thankfully, the night was cooler than the summer's day. Clouds had started to loom overhead during the dusk rest, and now they coated the sky. A single raindrop landed on her hand. Pluckett's pace increased before the inevitable shower would start. The sprinkles had increased by the time she made it. She hurried inside.
The heavy clouds overhead did hold a fair few patrons from showing up tonight. Pluckett made her way to the usual spot to prepare. A couple regulars in the crowd greeted her as she passed. While very few, if any, viewed her as the tavern's best musician, her regular appearances and slowly improving skills caused quite a few to at least recognize the gamba player. She gave polite nods to most, and usually a quick spoken greeting to any that had a habit of tossing a few coins her way.
The stool was where it always was. The alcohol flames bathed the area in a gentle light. Pluckett hefted the case from her back and sat down, carefulling placing the case on the ground before undoing the latches.
Her gamba, still worn and unpolished, was nestled in the very thin fabric interior. Notes and scraps of parachment were crammed into the crevices, some with performance notes, most with a few lines of music and lyrics. Some were songs, others were incomplete phrases of potential songs. She pulled the instrument out alongside the dated songlist that was nestled closest to the top.
Only half the songs she played had actual names. The ones with names often had names that only made sense in context or to those who studied music. "Rat-faced over-polite sailor" was not the subject of the song, but it existed to remind her of when she was first playing it.
A particularly hot summer in Zeltiva. Her mentor was sharing a song with her. Attracted by the sound at first and the presence of two young women second, a sailor strolled up to listen. As implied, his face was pointed and small, with beady eyes. Pluckett remembered the sweat matting his filthy hair. Despite the appearance, the man wasn't rude or pushy at all. After nearly any pause in the playing, he would give compliments to the women. These weren't songs, mind you, just some back-and-forth playing with melodies. He got discouraged and left not long after, seemingly upset the women didn't fawn over his constant "very good"s and "wonderful performance by wonderful girls"s.
That was the first song on the list.
It was a very breezy song, to counteract what had become a mild downpour outside. It didn't really tell a story. It set a mood.
The mood it set was pleasant and bright, a hopping melody with a lot of sweeps and lulls. Pluckett enjoyed playing it the whole way through nearly every time she did. It was a song from collaboration throughly. For every phrase, the response had a different tone, the different style of the other musician. It was a song best played as a duet, and even better improvised, but it still held its own as a solo. Nonetheless, it was light enough that it blended into the atmosphere of the bar well and seemed to turn minds from the rain and humidity from outside.
The crowd seemed to agree from the light applause they gave as the final note let off and her bow was pulled over beside her. She glanced down at the next song on the list.
