PM to join [Calendar Event] A song of Time once before

[Lo'campo]

11th of Spring 516 A.V, Seaside Market Sunberth late night

It was normal for him to find himself wandering through the city this time of night. It was dark and quiet which gave him time to clear his mind and think. It was his way of separating himself from the noise of the world. He walk through the Sunset Quarter navigating the alleys going in no general direction. A lot weighed on his mind. Life, decisions that he had made in the past that still haunted him today as well as where he was going in the future. The spring breeze was warm tonight opposite of the winter that had just passed. A wind of change.

It wasn't long before he had found himself crossing the main road and entering the Seaside Market. The place looked so different at night. Stalls usually filled with items for sale closed and barren, the area filled with so many people, so much noise now empty and quiet. It looked as if it were a ghost town. The street dark given the occasional lanterns that formed small pockets of light for one to see. He enjoyed being by himself to walk with his shadow and listen to the thoughts in his mind. He continued down the stone and dirt covered street oblivious to the world around him, listening to the sounds of the night as it sang it's song ever so beautifully.

He snapped back to attention, realizing that the song had come not from his mind, but from a figure that walked not to far ahead of him. It was hard to make the person out in the dark even with his Akalak eyesight. The most he could tell was that it was a woman. She wore clothing of silk with a garment piece that covered he hair and face. The closer he approached the more he could hear her singing a song unfamiliar to him. Though he didn't know what she was singing, her voice was as if it were forged by angels. Still he did not trust the woman. His hand rested on the hilt of his lakan as he passed her by.

"Loxudeaianis, a killer born in blood. His first victim, the one he loved. Taking the life of a wife, a mother, starting a life of killing many others."

He stopped. Did she call his name? A killer born in blood? Was she talking about him? He turned back to the woman in confusion, his face twisted in uncertainty listening the words the woman sang gracefully. Was this song about his life? How did she know him or this information. His hand now away from his lakan he stood as another set of words came.

"A killer of animals small and slow. Inside the child a killer brew. A trail of glassbeak to test ones self. The child returning a bringer of death."

Was this some kind of joke? A dream? He looked up and down the road for any other person who would be passing by but no one had showed yet. A bit intruiged in what the woman was saying, he sat to listen, caught up in her beautiful words.

[Fiachra]

'Chra quite liked the Seaside Markets. Even when folks had largely packed up for the night, and it was as deserted as any area of Sunberth ever got, there was usually something for an enterprising Raven to find. 'Chra, particularly when in Raven form, would eat most any thing, and liked things that any sane person would assign firmly to the realm of junk. A colourful string, anything shiny.. Of course she didn't hoard these things, she wasn't a magpie. Please. But she did still have the juveniles urge to explore, to investigate, to play. Currently, having feasted on a mostly rotten fish, the Kelvic was amusing herself in Raven-form hanging upside down off one of the pole used for torches.

Her pleased kwork-ing and warbles were interrupted by an admittedly much much melodious noise as a woman passed her singing softly to herself. Another night-time denizen approached from the other direction, hand resting on a weapon, body in a constant state of hard watchfulness that hinted at being ready for a fight rather than ready to run. In short, one of the many men of Sunberth it was best to avoid if one was wise.

Fiachra was not wise. She wasn't an owl. Come on people.

Besides, the song changed from beautiful noise to understandable lyrics as the veiled woman passed the man. He stopped at the first stanza. Was he going to stab her? Or mate without permission? These would be common acts. Though they'd originally surprised the Kelvic when she'd first made her way to this city or outlaws, they hardly counted as a novelty now. Just a good reason not to wear anything that might bind her when she was human in case she needed to make a quick get away.

As the woman continued however, the man sat, seemingly entranced. Pft, she was good certainly, but unless the lyrics were going to get much more exciting.. It was a fairly simple rhyming scheme, perhaps this was a new game! 'Chra liked games, she clacked her beak, pleased with this thought. If it was a game than she wanted to play.

In an entirely ungraceful movement, more like a large black rag blowing free than anything else, the Kelvic released her hold on the pole and tumbled down, black wings beating at the last moment to turn her and land her on her feet. Someone, somewhere had started a ridiculous rumor that Ravens could not walk, that they were forced to hop. This was patently not true, hopping was just quicker.

Waddling closer, though still far enough (at least she thought so) away that she could take to the air if necessary, the Raven preformed what was very nearly a bow. It was possible she'd been watching some street performers. A lot. Almost religiously. One of these days she was going to figure out where the coin disappeared to. That was a game for another day however. Straightening with a definitive clack, she offered forth this gem of rhyme-smithery. It was recognizable as an attempt at the same tune, but if we are being honest, Raven-song sounded good to Ravens, and that is about it. Still, the words while occasionally strangely spaced or stressed were clearly understandably.

"Lady wandering with veil on her head, kwork, couldn't see in something tread, to ears has the perfect prose, not so perfect to the nose!"

This was followed by the Raven version of laughter, 'Chra being particularly pleased with herself. Her version of poetry was much closer to that which was found etched into a thousand thousand bathroom stalls than a masterpiece, but it pleased her all the same. Flapping her wings a few times to emphasize her pleasure in herself, she cocked her head, waiting for a response, a reaction.

"Fiachra, born to farmers two, unlikely child bred mimic true. From Outpost to Sylaris flew, searching to complete a soul askew."

A surprised kaw escaped 'Chra at the sound of her own name. She thought less into the rest of the lyrics than perhaps a human might, like a child she was entranced only with the reference to herself, the rhythm and the woman's pretty voice. The why of it concerned her much less.

"Against a strangers sound advice, came to the city where blood has price. Failed in the unknowing search, perhaps always alone to perch."

Well that would have been a bit dispiriting if she'd actually been paying attention.