[Flashback]Ode to Strings Rebellious (Amireh)

[Julian]

Fall, Day 35, 509 Early Sunset After the music stopped, Julian became largely invisible to the passing Syliras citygoers. By now, as the sky became creased with thin strings of pink and orange clouds, the crowds had thinned considerably and Julian's barely mentionable audience had disintegrated. In their place was a crisp, lazy breeze, which licked against the musician's clothing and played at his neatly tied raven hair. He sat on a stone bench against the cold wall of some nameless shop that had closed two bells ago, a lacquered mahogany nestled gently against his body. Summer already a month passed, Julian was dressed in one of his long, dark, high-collared jackets. The edges of a decidedly floral-looking Chevas mark was visible on the left side of his neck. Though he'd stopped playing a short while ago, and his bow laid horizontally in his lap, Julian was still intent on his cello. His long, thin fingers grazed over the one of the four pegs at the top of the instrument's long neck. With his other hand, he delicately plucked each of the four strings, feeling the vibrations sent through the cello's entire body. Each time he picked at a string, his other hand floated to a corresponding peg and adjusted it by some barely visible, miniscule degree. Pressing and pulling the strings with his bow had distorted the strings after so long, and the instrument had sounded a little off tonight. Both halves of his parted, black hair shadowed his face as he looked down at the cello's base, his blind hand instinctively knowing where to go at the top of its neck. Julian wasn't sure how long he'd played this afternoon. He knew the air had been warm and the sun was bright when he'd settled here to play his music for the public. Now the day grew late and wind was chilling the exposed skin of his face and hands. The familiar burning ache in his fingers was the most accurate measure of time, however, and he had to estimate that he'd played for three straight hours this time. Where there was once an artistic, merry cello sonata, barely a whisper above the city's daily traffic, there was now the tinny plucking of strings amid the tamed city noises. Occasionally he had to pause, pick up his bow, and give the strings a full-bodied run to test the sound, but it never lasted for more than half a second. If anyone nearby had heard the songs die and become an jumping sequence of soulless notes and hums might have been terribly annoyed, but Julian wasn't worried about them. All he knew was that this blasted instrument was refusing to do as it was told, and he was growing thirstier by the moment. With something good and fermented in his belly, he was sure that tuning the instrument would come much easier. Still, he hadn't given up yet. Julian promised himself he'd get at least one of these strings sounding right before he'd leave to go drink himself tone-deaf.

[Amireh]

She was unsure. Throughout the performance - or at least the last half bell she cared to listen - the question of gender weighed heavily on her mind. The hair, certainly, was feminine, the thin frame and slender curve of the hips, but there was no bust! None! She witnessed women with no breasts to speak of, but there were other features that had the girl in a fuss. She had to know. And know she would. Each discordant pluck of a string hid her stealthy approach. The cobbles of Syliran Architecture made it a difficult feet, but already Amireh had discarded her heels to support her efforts. Thin, graceful legs swept over one another in gliding steps. Only the silk of her dress made any sort of noise, the draping bottom ruffling against the wind beneath the yelps of the cello. Had the common bystanders cared they could have warned Julian. Perhaps saved him the trouble. Maybe it was the care Amireh put into her approach, or more so the mischievous look that held her countenance. Humored, narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, the peculiar mix of blood drew stares of its own, but for entirely different reasons than the fabled artist. She was swift. Amireh jumped the last foot or so to her target, the sudden clack of her movements announcing her presence and intention. A hand lanced forward. While one set itself on the man's shoulder, the other slipped around his waist and to his crotch where she made an effort to grab. Maybe it was pleasant, albeit assuredly more alarming. Amireh was relentless. She remained until she was very much satisfied with her inspection and once finished she toyed with the idea of lingering for just a tad longer. Instead she took a wide, relieved step backward. Her eyes flashed purple. How queer. In the moments after her endeavor the young woman stood with a half-cocked smile on her face, watching and waiting for the show. Delicious. If anyone was to grab ones balls it was not a shame for it to be Amireh. She embodied a great many pleasurable assets. Her hips wove with gentle, suitable curves that lead into toned, firm legs. Dark skin made an effort to display itself in all the right places, her neckline barely decent for such a society. As such her bust was nothing to shy away from and she was never one to decline one a good look or two. In short, Amireh was beautiful, and the mere thought of her presence was filled with particularly carnal desires. She smiled. "You very much are a man, I see. I do apologize. I had to know. The hair threw me a bit." Her eyes flashed green.

[Julian]

The sound of sudden footfalls nearby had startled Julian, but not quite as much as what happened afterward. He began to lift his head as he felt the hand on his shoulder, but when he felt her other hand, his entire body jerked in surprise. With a sharp gasp, he completely forgot what he had been doing, and the cello slipped out of his hands and began to topple over. Thinking quickly, Julian was able to catch the instrument by the neck with the top of his foot before it crashed onto the cobbles. That taken care of, he was free to deal with... He looked down at the slender invading hand. "Gods abound, woman, what are you doing?" It was really very difficult to tell whether he was being attacked or propositioned, but she was mercifully gentle as well as brief. When she drew back, Julian rose to his feet, turning to his assailant. He was at least a head taller than she was, looking down at her with bewilderment painted on his face. Already the blood had rushed to his cheeks and Julian found himself blushing, which was as rare as it was humiliating. He tried to hide it by running a hand through the loose portions of his hair at her remark. The woman's wording might have been incidental, but some quiet portion of himself was pleased with her assessment. Julian confusion melted into surprise however as he got a better look at the copper-skinned stranger. Releasing an amazed breath, he had to suppress a sudden swell of flattery as he realized how lovely she actually was. Julian looked her up and down, his mouth opening in quiet astonishment as his eyes trailed her curves. Though he busied himself with a vengeful inspection, he hadn't missed her change in eye color. There was Vantha in her. "Well, you could have asked," he declared, brandishing his baritone voice as further proof. Julian's slate gray eyes lingered candidly on the woman's breasts, as if he were considering a bit of payback, but his hands stayed at his sides. He still gripped his cello's bow in one of them. "I've been mistaken for a woman before but that's the first time anyone's ever... checked." She wasn't dressed in a way any mother would be proud of, a fact that Julian was now having a hard time ignoring, considering the circumstances. He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar, regaining his composure. If Liara saw him talking to a woman like this, she might have tried to drag Julian back home by his ear. "At the very least you could have bought me a drink first." With the cello's bow in one hand, Julian lightly bowed as he swept his hands toward himself, displaying all his masculinity or her perceived lacked thereof. "Are you satisfied then?" he asked her, almost angrily. He gestured to her with his bow. "Clearly, you're no fan of ambiguity. If this is some advertising ploy from a nearby brothel, I think your approach could use a little more tact."