[The Rearing Stallion] A Song of Summer

by **Ellenwyn** on July 28th, 2016, 7:11 am

Summer of 516 AV, 5th Day
The Rearing Stallion
20th Bell

The weather had taken an unexpected turn for the worse. Ellenwyn could tolerate the heat, but she never did like humidity. Ironic that she would dislike sticky weather seeing as how she grew up in a swamp, but alas it was true. She was miserable. Her clothes stuck to her skin and the air was practically thick enough to chew. She'd drawn her hair back from her face in a messy braid in an attempt to relieve some discomfort but a few stray locks still clung stubbornly to her flushed cheeks and forehead. Ellen wiped them out of her face with a huff of annoyance and her hand came away wet with sweat.

Syliras was normally blessed with mild weather all through the year but there was the rare occasion for shyke. This was one of those occasions. Even the traders peddling their wares around the main gates seemed less enthusiastic this evening. They shouted out deals and promises of rare goods with a little less verve than usual. Some of them looked like sad snowmen melting in the sun, and others didn't even look up as people walked by. Dead to the world - or at least wishing they were. Ellen had finished her regular visit to the stable less than a bell ago and Lady was faring much the same. The water trough was the mare's best friend right now, and she didn't blame the horse one bit.

Speaking of troughs...

Coincidently the redhead realized just how thirsty she was as she rounded the last row of stalls, putting the Rearing Stallion just in sight. The front door was even propped open by a few lingering patrons. She couldn't resist the possibility of some relief from the dreadful heat and made a quick adjustment to course.

"Excuse me," she sang eagerly, breezing by the men in the doorway.

The sudden ten degree drop in temperature was almost sexual. It was the major perk of stone structures. They held in the cool air during summer but kept out chilly winds through winter. The entire atmosphere shifted with the temperature as well. Instead of cranky and sweaty, everyone was relaxed. Ellenwyn slipped into a seat at an empty table near the entrance and wilted with relief, dropping her soaked forehead to the cold wood table. She groaned quietly.

"What can I get for you ma'am?" No movement. "Hello? Ma'am?" Her head slowly lifted.

"Water?" The waitress nodded and retreated to the bar.

Where had she even come from? She was there and gone again like a ghost, leaving a glass of water in her formidable wake. Fear me, for I am... barmaid! Ellen smiled and took what was supposed to be a conservative sip, but turned into a long drought followed by a fit of choking. A few sour looks were tossed her way but she couldn't help it. Clearly these people took their bards very seriously. It was only then that she noticed the woman on stage preparing to entertain. She wore a small white dress and had hair so wild that Ellenwyn wondered if a comb had ever touched it.

by **Myra River** on August 2nd, 2016, 5:39 pm

¤

The earlier part of her work day was spent busking outside of the Rearing Stallion and by the gods it was HOT. By early afternoon she was well reminded why she was a nighttime bard. Syna seemed to be glaring at Syliras; her wrath beating down like standing before a forge. Myra got sick of it and went inside to complain.
"It's too hot for this shyke."
She told the bartender after climbing onto a stool and smoothing out the sweat soaked hair back away from her face, wilted curls springing back with little enthusiasm. The bartender was polishing a mug, the rag being used a little too dirty for Myra's taste. She wrinkled her nose at the sight.
"Aye." He said. " That's why you were the only one out there!"
She needed something to cool down, ignoring the fact that she had been played.
"Just give me an ale."
As she drank her beer she watched the other bard play. He was young, though not as young as she-- surely, and clearly still finding himself as a musician.
'Wow I can't believe I used to be that bad,' she thought as she kicked her feet without rhythm against the bar stool.

She took a deep, long gulp from the mug. There wasn't much she knew about in this world, but she did know music... And this guy sucked. There's no way he'd work here that long. Once someone described her as "virtuoso" and though she wasn't fully sure what that meant she knew it had something to do with being good at the flute. In other words, it was her turn after him to play. Someone would need to draw the crowds attention back. Being a bard scratched that itch which gave her purpose. She could feel it in her heart this is what she was meant to do. It made her feel alive and zen all that the same time, once it was described to her as her "happy place". What scratched that itch more were love songs, somehow they seemed to her as if she were crying out-- asking for someone to fill the void. Speaking of love songs, what song should she sing today?

Something that will grab people's attention, something gritty. So far on her short stint in the world she's noticed one thing the most; sex sells. Perhaps her mind was sway by the profuse amount of whores, no doubt also escaping Syna's wrath, skulking around the bar looking to ply their trade. Even right now a woman was seated right beside her doing just that. Myra was keen to notice the woman sneak her hand from his crotch to his pocket, pulling from it two silver miza and pocketing it deep in her dress. Sly woman. In anycase, she had the perfect song about sex. Written recently, and on the fly, it was one of her new favorites. Inspired by a Svefra she once knew. The first man she laid down with or how do they say... picked her plum. My did they have a great romp. They met several, recently, times and always for the same thing. She could hardly remember them actually having any conversations. Eventually he left on his boat, for a city called Syka if she remembers correctly, and she hasn't seen him since. Too bad, it was a lot of fun. This particular song always made her insides warm, remembering the times they spent together.

Finally the bard on stage was finishing up. Most people weren't even paying attention, they were too busy having their own conversations or seemingly lost in thought. She gave a courtesy blow of her flute for no reason at all. Just a quiet one, not trying to draw attention to herself. Beautiful piece of work it was, even if it was just plain and kind of rough around the edges. It sang beautifully, despite it's outward appearance it was a wonderfully craft instrument. She walked up to the stage and waited on the side, drumming her fingers against the wooden flute impatiently. As she waited, she was people watching and just in time to see a sweat drenched redhead come in clear at the other side of the tavern. She was pretty, beautiful even, despite looking like she was exhausted as she rested her head on the table she sat at. Myra thought she look fascinating, red hair tousled perfection. Redheads were the most beautiful to Myra and she wished she could have that color hair rather than her boring yellow. It was decided, whether the redhead knew it or not, this next song was for her. Not that she wanted to bed the woman, Myra just liked to pick people out in the crowd and preform for them. Half of the time the person never knew.

The bard finished and stepped off the stage, seeming proud of himself. He smiled at Myra but she ignored him and fluffed her hair.
'Whatever petcher, you were awful.'
She took the stage and cleared her throat, hoping to get a few people's attention. Singing wasn't her forte but this one required her to sing rather than speak. A lot of the time she would just speak the words as a poem. Only recently had she begun to put her poems to a melody. This song was fast and upbeat, she sang it in her husky, raspy voice. It was clear she was a novice singer, she sang with less confidence than a someone better than she, though she didn't sound bad. Some parts were a little too quiet to hear, the lower parts, and in a couple spots her voice wavered. Still, it was sang with a degree of soul that only one who love music can muster. It was clear to see she felt the music in her bones.

Incense smoke and fire light
tasting
pulling
writhing
Each touch and exaltation
Moments lost by Tanroa

Whispering dreams of a midnight hunt
wishing
wanting
searching
Passion rising, never waning
This feral means of communication

Heightened senses catch like fire
scratching
burning
yearning
Time is passing with no one to notice
Screams of pleasure in the night

Breaking the silence we move like the ocean
flowing
churning
lapping
Our bodies in rhythm
Like waves at the beach

A sensual burst of color
sweating
moaning
feeling
Final moments here together
Life's oldest dance is finally over

The flute part was also upbeat. Done in a lower pitch with a few highs as an accent. It was a long song, about fifteen chimes in total, most of it being flute music. She jammed on her flute, swaying with the notes and dancing in her spot. She was finally cooled off and as she danced with her own music her afro would sway back and forth as if it were dancing too. By the end of the song people were clapping along to the beat. Her eyes seldom left the redhead unless she took to scanning the crowd or she got really into the music. When she was finished she left the stage with a smile on her face, the people clapping their goodbye.

She came to sit by the redhead at her table, sliding into the seat with a look on her face as if she had a secret.
"I haven't seen you here before. That being said I usually work in the night."
She waved for a barmaid to come over.
"An ale please... And one for my friend here."
After the barmaid left she stole the redhead a devious look.
"If you don't drink it... I will."
When the barmaid returned she took a long drought of her pitcher.
"River, by the way. What did you think of my performance?"

by **Ellenwyn** on August 9th, 2016, 5:06 pm

As the wild looking woman began to sing, Ellen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned forward on the table, elbows propped against the wood. Her voice was husky and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. She didn't seem to be a professional singer of any kind, though a natural perhaps. It was obvious why the woman was in the profession of entertaining. The bard portrayed deep emotion not only with her intense posture but also her tone and subtle movements. They were the nuances of a real musician; not just some hobbyist.

The song she sang had a very sensual feel to it, and the words made something stir deep in her belly. Others in the Stallion seemed to be having the same reaction; many of them curling fingers through locks of a lovers' hair or leaning forward in their seats, a faraway look in their eyes. Ellen noticed the singer's gaze rarely left hers through the length of the performance, and a flush crept across her pale cheeks. The redhead wasn't sure if it was chance or perhaps paranoia, but nevertheless she was squirming in her chair by the last verse.

She was so flustered at the end that she almost forgot to join in applause, but the low thunder of clapping snapped her back to now and she joined the praise enthusiastically, if a little dazed. When the woman climbed down from her perch on stage and started to make her way over, Ellen felt a moment of panic. Had she done something wrong? Maybe this was the singer's seat. A little clumsy with uncertainty, Ellen was in the process of getting out of her chair when the woman dropped into the one beside her, looking a little devious. Confused but curious, the sweaty redhead plopped back down.

"I don't come here often, actually." When the bard ordered her a drink, her brows arched high. Apparently she hadn't done something wrong after all? "No, no, thank you." Ellen would never admit it but she was a terrible drinker, though manners would never allow her to turn down such an offer from an apparently kind stranger. "Ellenwyn. You can call me Ellen though," she offered in turn, starting to relax visibly and smile. Her nose crinkled a little with the flash of teeth. "You played beautifully and your voice has a different tone than any I've heard before. I'm envious, I've always wanted to learn an instrument and be able to sing. The lute maybe, someday. I could never sit in front of a crowd like this though."

Ellen picked up her mug and sloshed the ale around a bit, watching it foam. She grimaced for just a moment before taking a long swig and put it back on the table with a loud clunk. Her face contorted ever-so-slightly as she struggled to remain nonchalant. The first few swallows were always the hardest. If she could get past those and start to feel a little fuzzy, it got a lot easier.

"Were you staring at me up there?" It was a bold question, but she was curious. "It just looked like you were. Then you came to buy me a dink and all." Maybe River liked women. Ellen wouldn't outright ask her, but to each their own. The redhead took another big drink and shivered visibly.