Open Cutting the Silence

A performance at The Scholar's Demise

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

Moderator: Luminescence

Cutting the Silence

Postby Pluckett on July 3rd, 2019, 4:24 am

Image
15 of Summer 519 AV - The Scholar's Demise


Moonlgiht shone through the skyglass windows of the Scholar's Demise, bathing the bar in gentle blue light. The effect was intensified by the blue-burning candles perched on each table. Patrons had already begun filling in for the night, many taking the clear night to wear their more elaborate and breezey summer outfits. The energy of the bar was ethreal, at least to the more plainly dressed young woman taking her seat on the designated stage area.
Not quite a proper stage, but it surely was more sat up than the deck of a ship. Pluckett still wasn't entirely used to the idea of playing to seated patrons, without the rocking of the sea and the sound of creaking wood. The idea of doing a proper performance made her just a tad nervous. She pulled the large case from her back. Like her clothing, it was plain. She briefly entertained the idea of looking for some decorations with the pay she'd be getting for the performance. Her eye was caught by a woman's elaborate necklace, a long silver chain with a deep black stone. Pluckett didn't know her rocks very well, but the way the blue light reflected on its surface reminded her of a pair of obsidian earrings her mother often wore.
Enough distraction.
She pulled the gamba from its case. The finish was a bit worn. Salty ocean air combined with age and use from its previous owner resulted in a patchy dull spots all over. The bow was fraying as well. Pluckett couldn't recall any stores that would supply musical instruments or their repairs, but Lhavit has enough musicians that it would be sure to exist somewhere. A man wearing some kind of ruffled purple tie over an even more ruffled shirt took notice of the instrument and seemed to nod to himself, before turning back to the table of similarly colorful-looking individuals. Under any other circumstance, she'd definitely approach and join whatever conversation they could be having. Not tonight. She had a job to do.
She drowned her curiosity and focused on music. Shit, what song would this crowd even want to hear? With the svefra, anything praising Laviku, or any of the shanties sailors were seemingly born with the knowledge of would rouse a crowd sufficiently. The energy was too calm for that. She bit her lip, and decided upon an instrumental melody to start with.
The bar was certainly not silent. Soft conversations drifted around the air, feet shuffling, glasses clinking. However, the first note rolled out and filled all of the gaps in the noise. The distinct wooden boom brought Pluckett's attention fully to her performance, as well as hushed a few patrons at least temporarily. A short rest after that, then into a rolling melody. The instrument vibrated under her fingers, letting out chords that rose and fell. It wasn't a complex song, but it made the atmosphere just a little more alive.
The song followed a simple formula. The intro kicked for about half a chime, then into a section that could be repeated until the player or listener got bored; preferabley rising an octave before returning to its base every other repeat. The interlude dropped and stretched compared to the first verse, giving the listener a sense that whatever merry things were going on until now were interupted by some unfortunate event. The hero found his match, the loving couple found themselves seperated; the beauty of music is that it doesn't need to speak its story to be told. Just as fast as it faded, the story picked up again. This section, as well, was repeatable and short on its own. As all good things must come to an end, she only ran it through thrice before moving to the climax, the booming part of the song where the story begins to wrap up. The hero slays his villian, the artist puts the final brush strokes to his canvas, and the song slowly fades to its final slow notes, recalling the motif from the start as it lets the listener down gently.
A simple five-sectioned song, but Pluckett hoped it would please the crowd. She held her breath as the final note snaked its way out, leaving silence in its wake.
Image
User avatar
Pluckett
If I cannot fly, let me sing.
 
Posts: 48
Words: 39554
Joined roleplay: May 4th, 2019, 7:14 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

Cutting the Silence

Postby Madeira Craven on July 3rd, 2019, 8:57 pm

Image



Madeira tapped her bone ring against the edge of her whisky glass in soft repeating patterns, the carved wolf's head sending clear bell notes through the murmur of conversation. The mirrored moonlight and blue alcohol flames shimmered off the diamonds around her throat, rings on her fingers and her strange dress, which looked to be made completely out of feathers. The high neck and long sleeves were the black, closely fitted feathers of a penguin, that slowly transitioned from wren to chicken to peacock as it reached the floor, getting more colourful as it went.

Thankfully her strange sense of style did not stop the Spiritist from making friends. She was an expert socialite, slipping easily into conversations with strangers and taking the reins in groups, guiding all topics back to what she wanted to know. All the while tapping away at her glass, the only show of apprehension in her otherwise cheerful, unshakable demeanor.

"Penrose killed Elena." one man stated boldly when pressed for a theory. "Elena drove her crazy and Penrose killed her for it. Lock her up again and we'll all sleep easier."

"Penrose was released after Elena was murdered", Madeira explained patiently, her tinkling laugh hopefully diffusing his resentment at being corrected. Her silvery gloved hands measured out the timeline before her. "She was locked up mid spring, late spring is when those symbols appeared on mage's doors, Elena was killed the first of this season and it was a whole week after that before Penrose was released. All the signs point to it being someone else. Someone with an agenda."

tap. tap. tap.

"You can't look to logic when magic is involved. For all we know she hoodoo'd herself out of confinement, did the deed, and hoodood'd herself back and we're none the wiser." The man nodded to himself and threw back his drink, a hundred percent certain he had solved the mystery.

"...Looks like I need a refill", Madeira hid the remaining two fingers of drink behind her hand and rattled the ice. "I'll catch you on my way back around", she smiled charmingly to his face and rolled her eyes when her back was turned. There were many theories abound but that was by far the worst she had heard.

tap. tap. tap.

She had to give up for the night. This rumour seeking was getting her nowhere. The news of Penrose's release, the Gazette article and Elena's death were old news by now (though the unease had not lessened in that time) and still nobody had a clue what was going on. What was making her nervous all over again was the whispering she'd heard from Lani, that Twilight was thinking of reversing their position, leaving Dawn and her own Dusk tower on their own in a sea of hostility.

Well, that was nothing she could change from the ground. She wasn't really a part of the Dusk clan, just an honored guest. Everything she knew was speculation and hearsay, and the changes she could make were superficial. She had plans to change that, but it was not going as fast as she needed it to.

tap. tap. tap

Madeira approached the bar that stretched across the far side of the room and slid into a stool, shaking her head mutely when a barmaid appeared to refill her drink. On the stage a tiny, innocuous busker was pulling a stringed instrument from its case. Perfect. She would stay here for one more song and finish her drink. Then she was going to go home and stew in her apprehension.

Elbow on the counter, braided hair over her shoulder, Madeira nursed her drink and prepared to listen to one of the hundred buskers Lhavit boasted. But then the song began, the instrument letting out a deep reverberating hum that she could feel in the hollows of her ribs and the space between her fingers. In the time it took her drink to travel from the counter to her lips she had forgotten it was there, and she sat with the cool glass against her lips and the ice melting in her hands as she listened.

This busker was not the best she had ever heard, not by a long shot, but her playing was heartfelt and somehow narrative. Like hypnosis it coaxed images from her mind, and the melody wove them into a story. The nervous tapping on the glass stopped, and Madeira let herself forget her frustrating night and her worries about the future and just listen.

When the song was over she was the first to set down her drink and applaud, and the last to stop when others returned to their drinks and their company. She had planned to leave, but maybe she could stay for one more song...
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1618
Words: 1422614
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Cutting the Silence

Postby Pluckett on July 8th, 2019, 2:14 am

Image
A large exhale brought Pluckett back to the moment. A second of silence, followed by an applause from many of the listeners. The sound was downright alien in a way. The claps were simple, somewhat quiet, definitely something to boost confidence but not the same as the whoops and wallops of a deck of drunken sailors. It was a bar, yes, but it was still too early to hold many drunks, and there were still rules - the sort of friendly jeers that the seafolk would often throw would likely earn some severe glances from this crowd.
Amongst the claps, most of which were limited to a polite few seconds of acknowledgement, there was one that seemed to start first, end last, and hold extra appreciation for the performance. Pluckett scanned the crowd to find the source of that particular sound. When she found it, she had wondered just how she missed the woman it came from. She looked like the kind of woman that her mother would have turned her nose at or her father would have kept an eye on, as anybody who refused to conform perfectly raised suspicion in the eyes of a Syrilan Knight. Despite that, the woman had an air of authority. She was clearly not just a crazy old bat.
The applause ended. The quiet returned to the bar, this time even softer than before in anticipation for the next song. A bead of sweat traced down her neck.
Pluckett made a mental note to be sure to prepare a song list for future performances. On sea, the crowd usually was glad to demand a tune they knew, or even start up a chanting song of their own in a drunken hivemind.
Next song.
She had a small surge of confidence from the previous performance that urged her to pick this one. It was a bit more complicated, written in a key she hadn't encountered much. A little bit of fancy fingerwork that would surely do well.

She put the bow to the string, and out came a quicker series of notes than the long tone of the first song. The notes ran down the scale, then hopped up in appregio. Once returned to the top, they began hopping in a playful way. It briefly recalled to memory her svefra mentor pointing to an elaborate tattoo on her shoulder - a dolphin leaping majestically in front of the sunset - and stating that the song was about the dolphins. At the time, Pluckett had no clue how a song without words could be about something. Over time, she understood.
This distraction in thought proved fatal. A finger was one fret too high. The note that came out was soured and wrong. It was only an eighth note - but Pluckett still felt the burn of shame. It wasn't such a major mistake that the song was ruined, but a careful listener or practiced ear would easily have picked it out. The action did draw her attention back to the song, however, and she was sure to stay attentive this time around. Her face burned, but she concentrated hard to keep a shake from entering her fingers.
The hops moved to a slower portion. A darker portion, it felt. The less familiar key took its hold here, with the extra sharps giving an edge to the otherwise basic melody. Now the playful dolphins were diving and navigating, hunting for prey - or evading a predator. The dark feeling truly stretched itself over the melody now, remniscent of a dark night. The mystery of the ocean depths, where even the dolphins didn't approach, loomed just over the reef. The previous song was an exciting but safe journey. This song, to Pluckett, felt more of survival and caution. She missed having fellow performers with her for this song in particular. A haunting flute or higher string harmony would always make one's hair stand on end.
The darkness hung, but the notes climbed. The gamba does not wail in the same way a violin does, letting out a deeper cry, but these notes were indeed shrill for the instrument. Something was wrong in the waves now. If these dolphins have a god, they were sure to be praying. Luckily, their prayers are answered; gradually, the notes gently slide down the scale, into some more major chords. Staccato notes to simulate the sun's rays coming out from behind whatever clouds were hiding them, then a reiteration of the start. The pod survived and now spirits return. The song ends in a simple sting, as opposed to the gentle fade of the last song.
Pluckett, recovered from earlier, already decided which song should come next.

This time, as she gathered her breath and listened to the crowd's polite applause, she was sure to find the feathered woman and see if she was once again impressed, or if the slip of her finger was enough to spoil the show.
Image
User avatar
Pluckett
If I cannot fly, let me sing.
 
Posts: 48
Words: 39554
Joined roleplay: May 4th, 2019, 7:14 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

Cutting the Silence

Postby Madeira Craven on July 9th, 2019, 12:04 am

Image



The applause died away and another song started. This one was bubbly, cheerful almost. Small dark hands danced across the strings and the bow hummed its happy tune. It was a bit choppy, a few fumbles of the fingers and a stutter as the busker tried to find her rhythm after the mistake, but people were too caught up in drink and conversation to care.

Madeira drew circles on the bartop with the finger of her lace glove, lost in thought. She was facing the busker, but the pale blue eyes behind her glasses were looking far beyond her. It felt like it she squinted just right, she might be able to see all the way to Alvadas. That was where a song like that belonged; in the bright, beautiful city of illusion, where she and Lani ruled the twisting streets as children.

But that pretty little melody burned away quickly, and as the busker's hands slowed a creeping anxiety and dread started filling in the notes. Musicians were a lot like hypnotists this way, Madeira realized, as her ever bubbling stress started running closer to the surface. They had a way to manipulate emotions that bordered on magical.

This new darker tone did not sit well with the tavern patrons. Postures shifted, conversational lulls were more frequent and tones became sharper at the edges. They were here to drink and socialize and have a good time, none of which was improved by the anxiety riddled hum of a gamba's low notes pushed to its shrillest limit.

Even knowing what kind of manipulative sorcery it was, Madeira was not immune to it either. The song's narrative of that deep, dark unknown had seized her thoughts and spiraled them back to the current seat of her own anxiety: the uncertainty of her future in Lhavit. The political turmoil of the last few seasons that put her in a very vulnerable place, as she was dealt the hardships of being someone 'from' the Towers, without having the power of the Tower families. She way a gift given to the Dusk family to cement their alliance with the Craven family. She was valuable to them, certainly, as easily the best Spiritist in Lhavit. But that still did not make her a Dusk. She was an honored, valuable, treasured, pet, simply along for the ride with no agency of her own.

Soon the song slowly, gradually, began to lighten. The busker's bow began to draw across the instrument with a strange sense of relief, like the musical version of a deep breath. Madeira's thoughts started to unspool as well, following that great release of tension to look for that lighter note. She knew how little she mattered in the grand scheme of things, but she also knew how to change that position. She had a plan, a lifeline, to drag herself out of this lions den of a city she had found herself in.

Chiona Dusk.

A smile crawled lazily across her lips. Beautiful, talented, rich and with a name that could open any door; the much desired bachelorette of Lhavit with an exploitable secret. Marrying her could solve all her problems with one broad stroke, and cement Madeira and her eclectic family in Lhavit for good. There was just one thing... it required Chiona to fall in love with her.

The gamba's last sting sliced through the crowded tavern with that one suddenly sobering thought, and after a tick of silence the room bloomed with polite but unenthusiastic applause. Madeira, startled out of her musings, joined in a tick too late, her eyes blinking back into focus. From her spot on the bar she took a moment to really look at the busker who's music kept snaring her thoughts. She was a tiny little thing, almost lost behind her instrument. She had Ssanya's desert colouring, but couldn't be older than Madeira herself. No, she was younger, surely. Something about her bright eyed, nervous look as she waited for the approval of the audience gave her an aura of doe-eyed innocence.

When her dark eyes fell on Madeira, the Spiritist found herself smiling for her. Her gloved hands coming together hard enough to send a tingle of retreating blood through her scarred palms. And then, without letting herself think about it, she gave the woman a single, suggestive wink.

She swallowed the hot rush of embarrassment. For all her social skills Madeira was a terrible flirt, which just made her dream of seducing Chiona but a distant fantasy. Madame Belladonna, the owner of the only brothel on the peak, was giving her lessons to fix it, but even she said she needed practice in the real world. And here was this poor girl in this bar, who seemed both young and guileless enough to not have a great deal of experience, and might overlook her terrible flirting.

Madeira mastered her facial expression, turning the burn in her cheeks into something endearingly sweet with the fall of her eyes. She tried to change the way she sat on her stool; subtly loosening her prim posture, leaning forward on the bar to lengthen her spine and display what womanly curves motherhood saw fit to give her. It felt stiff and unnatural, like she was an actor in a play. The glasses she wore helped to make her more attractive, magic item that they were, but she was itching to do more. Was it cheating to cover her deficiencies with magic?

She rallied her dijed, siphoning it from the core of her being and knitting it through her body. She wove it through the soft curve where her shoulder met her neck and the space between her slightly parted lips. It played down the curve of her spine and ran in liquid currents through her long fingers. With every fiber of her being she was using that short contact to push an emotional response into the girl's mind. Alluring, it begged, rising in waves from her body bent just so to put on a performance of her own.
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1618
Words: 1422614
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Cutting the Silence

Postby Pluckett on July 12th, 2019, 7:08 am

Image
The applause died down as Pluckett figured out her next move. The reactions she had witnessed caught up to her. She forgot that a bar wasn't the best place to play very negative songs. Keep tone in mind next time. At least the crowd didn't dislike the song, and her mistake seemingly went unnoticed.
Once again, her eyes met that of the feathered woman. The woman's reaction was still positive, giving Pluckett some relief that the mistake hadn't ruined the mysterious stranger's opinion of her. In fact, the blonde's mouth had twisted into a smile near the end. She could have sworn the woman winked during her applause.
Something crept into her mind. A force of some sort. It felt like her brain had flickered for a second, like a fire. The woman was looking into her eyes, and her pose seemed almost... suggestive. Her eyes moved to the floor. Pluckett noticed she had been staring back. She felt a small blush, then caught herself. You're working right now, Pluck, she reminded herself. You're not here to pick up some stranger... She struggled to think of where the sudden mild infatuation came from. The hush of the bar felt suffocating, and she shifted. She forced herself to look away from the woman, at the man with the purple tie. He was caught up in conversation, not even noticing her lack of playing.

The woman did have a nice shape.

The music came to her again. The next song she had picked out was lost on her, but she felt her new choice was better anyhow. A very safe choice as well.
She put the bow to the string and began playing. The song was gentle, each note floating this time, lingering for just a moment before sliding into the next. The layout of this song was similar to the first, with several repeatable sections. She tried to remember where and when she started to learn it.
A calm day, at a dock somewhere. She couldn't remember what city, but she remembered the way the clouds rolled across the sky, puffy white shapes. She tried to play those shapes into existence. The notes were slow, but not sad. They were bright, but not burning. She became aware of how dark and blue the bar was in comparison to that sunny day. The sound didn't have to be puffy white clouds. It was also stars, a beautiful sky of them. The section repeated.
The next section was a little faster. It featured slow notes with quick grace notes, similar to a twinkle. Pluckett tried to channel the night sky. The sky was a constant wherever she went. The stars moved, but they never changed. The moon was always facing the same way even as it waned. The woman was still facing her.

The song moved on, but her wandering mind took some of the impact out. She hadn't made any mistakes, at least. The song was merely missing the heart she had thrown in the previous. Her eyes scanned the crowd again as she performed, at the patrons, many of whom were seemingly ignoring her entirely. A worry burned in her briefly. She wasn't sure what happened.

Focus.
She forced her energy into the song. Maybe she had picked a song so simple that she couldn't focus on it as well. She had played all the way to the next section while lost in thought.

Focus.

Whatever fog in her mind was pushed away at last. The sensation was the same as when she climbed far enough on the mountain to where her ears would pop, as if clarity in sound she hadn't even noticed was gone returned.
She finished the current section and pushed into the final one with a new awareness.
The final section. It seemed to spin with the way the notes fell one into the next, the notes following the scale, dipping, then continuing. It went on for however long she felt, which wasn't as long as she normally would have let it. She let the spinning slow and fall until it was just a single, held note, that faded into nothingness.
She had two more song slots to fill for the night, but knew she had the chance for a short break to grab a drink and hopefully gather her thoughts. Her subpar performance hung over her head as she slid off the stool and quickly made her way to the bar. She was going to give herself just five chimes before returning.
Image
User avatar
Pluckett
If I cannot fly, let me sing.
 
Posts: 48
Words: 39554
Joined roleplay: May 4th, 2019, 7:14 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

Cutting the Silence

Postby Madeira Craven on July 19th, 2019, 2:46 am

Image

"Speech"


oocSorry for the late reply! I'm trying to be more active in the coming weeks. :thumbsup:


Madeira squinted towards the stage as the bow was again laid across the strings and the musician began her next song. She couldn't be sure with the moody atmospheric light of the blue alcohol flames, but she thought she saw, for a fraction of a chime, the girl blush.

Nearly purring with self satisfaction, Madeira settled in to watch the next performance. That small slip of the buskers composure emboldened her, and she tried to catch her eye again. The Spiritist adjusted herself in her seat, throwing one leg over the other and sitting back with her chest forward and her elbows tucked into her corseted waist. It was the kind of lounging princess look she only ever saw on actresses trying to confound the play's hero by sprawling seductively across divians. But If it was good enough for them...

Frustratingly, the girl's eyes stayed firmly on the crowed and away from her. Madeira sucked her teeth, annoyed and feeling the pangs of an oncoming backache.

The song meanwhile floated ethereally through the tavern, a pleasant background for a dozen different conversations. Under the gentle calm of the music, metaphorical feathers were unruffled, opinions had a softer blow and drinks became a little sweeter. The music was sparkling, almost effervescent, and like the tide following the pull of Leth the atmosphere changed to follow the song. It was a little toothless for Madeira's taste, lacking any of the drama of the previous songs, but this audience was not looking for anything with a bite.

The Spiritist watched the phenomenon around her with fascination. It had required years of hypnotism practice to have the same effect. More than that, for her to even affect this many people at once would require their complete attention. This musician wasn't even particularly skilled, but she was influencing an entire unfocused room with her song.

The last note ended with a flourish to a smattering of applause, to which Madeira added her own. But the little busker did not acknowledge it, instead slipping quietly off of her stool and to the far end of the bar. Something about the heavy hang of her head looked dejected. Was she disappointed with her last performance?

Nervously fixing the diamonds around her throat, Madeira slipped off her own stool and took the opportunity to swoop in on the smaller girl. She could do this!

The tap of her slippered feet announced her approach, and she slid in beside the busker at the bar. Standing so close, Madeira finally had a chance to see her properly. The distance did not improve her stature, the girl was still very small, but there was a confident set to her shoulders that made her stand like a taller woman. She had thick, beautiful dark hair, callouses on her fingers and an endearing sparkle in her eye. Madeira's greeting smile was a carefully practiced thing, just a small, welcoming twist of her lips.

Both observative and socially aware she had already pinned the girl as being put out by her performance. Perhaps the way to pull at her heartstrings lied in flattery, to buoy her spirit while she looked so down on herself. She was going to give it a try.

"Let me buy your drink", she said, in lu of a greeting. She raised her ring studded hand to flag down a barmaid before her eyes found the busker's. "It's the least I can do to repay you for that wonderful performance. It might sound silly but.." coaxing her dijed forward a second time, she ran the raw energy through the words that sat heavy and expectant in her throat. Twisting her intent into uncomfortable shapes she ferried it to this stranger on the back of the words that purred from her lips, pressing a suggestion of allure into her mind. "I swear it felt like you were playing just for me."
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1618
Words: 1422614
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Cutting the Silence

Postby Pluckett on August 1st, 2019, 6:09 am

Image
Pluckett was mulling over which drink to order, trying to put aside her feelings about her previous performance, when she heard the sound of footsteps drawing close. She had only just turned to the stranger when the woman seemed to materialize into the stool beside her. The same woman as before. Was she particularly interested in musicians? Could she be looking for talent for some personal endeavor? Pluckett was at least glad to have a closer view of the woman. The feathered cloak was just as spectacular up close, and she finally could notice the many rings decorating gloved hands, each one unique. Behind it all, the woman was pale and somewhat thin-looking, not so much taller or older than herself.
"Let me buy you a drink," the woman offered, before even asking her name. Pluckett wouldn't have denied it even if she had the time. The barmaid was already flagged down. Aleah arrived swiftly. Pluckett smiled at the ethaefal. Taking a short break was fine during performances, as long as she didn't spend the break causing trouble.
"I'll have a glass of white wine, please, and thank you."
Aleah didn't have time to chat, as after the women's orders were taken she was already being flagged down by someone else.
The woman's compliments lifted her mood almost unnaturally fast. Maybe it was nerves hampering her own opinion of her performance. The nameless stranger had some attractive force, something that demanded Pluckett stay right where she was and learn more, to give her something in return.
"It's all in a night's work." She tried her best not to blush as she returned a compliment. "You did catch my eye and gave me something to admire out in the crowd. A musician plays for whoever listens closest, after all, and I'd never turn down the chance to perform for someone as... fascinating as you."
She almost felt embarrassed for saying that, but felt it was true. Pluckett had never had someone be a proper fan of her performance before, let alone someone who seemed to be of high tastes. She tried to hide her excitement of the idea of having total strangers buy her drinks over her music, but she felt herself grow a broad, gloating smile.
"You've already bought me a drink, but we still haven't even introduced ourselves. My name is Pluckett," she said, as the barmaid came back around. With a gentle but swift clink, the glass of wine was before her, reminding her of her thirst and reason for even leaving her performance stool. She observed the pale greenish liquid for a moment before taking a small sip and letting her eyes wander down the woman again. She held herself with a careful grace, making Pluckett wonder if it was simply a natural feature of the woman, or something trained into her. She knew enough not to ask, but chose to pursue her curiosity in the form of classic small talk, at least to fill time before she had to get back to work.
"Are you from around here?"

OOC :
I also have to apologize for not replying, I recently moved but now everything is settling back to normal and I should be able to post quicker from now on!
Image
User avatar
Pluckett
If I cannot fly, let me sing.
 
Posts: 48
Words: 39554
Joined roleplay: May 4th, 2019, 7:14 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

Cutting the Silence

Postby Madeira Craven on August 27th, 2019, 5:59 pm

Image

"Speech"


Madeira watched as her simple compliment lifted this girl's hanging head and returned colour to her cheeks. She just needed to hear that she was well received. The Spiritist's polite smile became a little bit warmer.

As the Eth bar owner came by and the busker ordered her white wine Madeira asked for a refill of her own whisky and mint. She slid the coins across the bar, and the Eth nodded kindly before she was swept away by more customers.

During the quick exchange the busker took the chance to observe Madeira just as Madeira had been observing her. Thankfully she seemed to find something interesting in her, for she faced her new fan and smiled delightedly. No, that was not just delight. Madeira's smile turned from polite to almost warm as the woman rattled on in what was
clearly excitement. The woman tried to suppress it, and hold in the blush in her cheeks, but even in the sultry glow of the blue flames she was lighting up.

"Pluckett..." Madeira repeated the name back to her slowly, letting the sound roll from the root of her tongue to tap off the roof of her mouth as she committed it to memory. Now that she had the busker engaged and interested in her company she let go of the alluring suggestion, letting the dijed fizzle out. Fascination wasn't enough, the Spiritist berated herself, watching the curiosity spark in Pluckett's large dark eyes. She had to elicit some kind of romantic or sexual reaction out of her. But how? How in the hai does one go about being sexy?

"I'm Madeira, it's a pleasure to meet you", she managed to say, as the Eth came back with their drinks. Now they were in the territory of small talk, something Madeira thankfully had plenty of practice in. She ruminated on how she could possibly get Pluckett to see her as something more than a fan as she spoke.

"Oh no, I'm not from the city. But then again, neither are you", her lip curved around the sip of her drink, squinting at the busker like she was an interesting puzzle to piece together. "Your accent is all wrong. I would have guessed you were Svefran from some of the songs you play, but I know their kind and your all wrong for them too. You must be a very long way from home. A south eastern girl, perhaps? Ekytol?" she guessed, looking at her darker complexion.

"I'm from Alvadas. I've lived in Lhavit for... oh, a few seasons now. But that's not long enough to truly explore all this beautiful city has to offer. Perhaps we might explore together some time. I'd like to know more about the musician so far from home. What do you say, Pluckett?"

Her dijed sputtered to life once again, this time weaving through the sound of the name as it carefully left her lips. Two syllables that started with gently pursed lips and the tip of the tongue pressed lightly against the back of her teeth. The sound moved forward and back and forward in her mouth, to finally tap off the hard palette. She had to remember the shape of it, how the exact motions built the sound, so she could replicate it perfectly again.

Her accent would be the trigger, her dijed would be the conditioning. As she twisted the name through her Alvadas-thickened tongue she ferried an hypnotic response; a small, sudden flush of pleasure. Madeira sourced the feeling from memories of the first sip of coffee in the morning, and the smell of fresh cut flowers; the simple, pleasurable feeling that was easy to hold in ones mind.

Perhaps, with enough time, if she could even get her to meet her again, she could condition this pretty, gentle busker to respond simply to the sound of Madeira’s accent butchering her name.

White Wine: -2 topaz
Ice Storm: -2 kina
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1618
Words: 1422614
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Cutting the Silence

Postby Pluckett on September 6th, 2019, 2:07 am

Image
"Pluckett..."
The woman's accent did not faithfully reproduce her name. Pluckett didn't mind beyond being unable to properly place it.
Madeira continued. She had successfully pegged the music as being Svefran, sure, but did not place her homeland.
Alvadas. Pluckett had heard of it, near the Suvan Sea, in Kalea. She had never been, but the stories told by those who have spoke of an ever-changing maze ruled by Ionu. She felt questions brewing inside her - mostly about if it's true that one could turn a corner on a sunny day and end up in a blizzard and related tales of illusions.

Before she could, the conversation turned to her.
"What do you say, Pluckett?"
Her name felt warm coming from Madeira. A ray of sunlight, a warm drink on a cold day. She took a drink of her wine quickly, hoping it would quell the sudden rush. She cleared her throat before speaking.
"I'm from Syliras, actually," she said. She felt a flutter in her gut as she made eye contact with Madeira.
"My father was a knight, and my mother... well. Needless to say, I decided to leave when I came across a pod of Svefra who welcomed me with open arms, taught me to play."

She thumbed the stem of her wine glass. She'd had many post-performance conversations before, ones that ended in laughter, some that ended in tears, and others that ended with a shared bunk, but none had this same heavy energy. What was Madeira after? It certainly wasn't just an interest in her music.
"It was a suffocating place to live. Everything had to be done right, done on time, all while the knights stood and watched and waited for a mistake. The sea didn't have that, and it was dangerous. I loved it."

"Lhavit is beautiful. Plus, the okomo are cute, and the people are nice enough."
She felt a stupid smile grow at her own observation, but the heavy feeling had begun to dissapate. Madeira could be trusted, she felt, a friend in the large yet-unfamiliar city. Her curiosity still lingered, but this time not about the past.
"What do you do here, in Lhavit?"

Her glass was now nearly three quarters empty; maybe that contributed to the growing trust she felt. She almost felt guilty having abandoned her performance. There was one more song left, but it could wait for a bit, wait until this conversation could die off.
Image
User avatar
Pluckett
If I cannot fly, let me sing.
 
Posts: 48
Words: 39554
Joined roleplay: May 4th, 2019, 7:14 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

Cutting the Silence

Postby Madeira Craven on September 7th, 2019, 3:44 am

Image



Did it work?

Madeira squinted at the busker as she took a hasty sip of wine, watching for any outward sign of pleasure. It wasn't until Pluckett looked her back in the eye that Madeira was sure that experimental rush of hypnotism had taken hold. She had such wide, guileless eyes. They were so beautiful, the colour of lacquered wood, but nowhere near as hard. When they wavered shyly at the contact Madeira almost sighed with relief. It worked! If she could just keep it up, keep slipping small tastes of pleasure in with the sound of her voice, she may just win this woman over in time.

As the conversation went on, it turned out Madeira had been wrong about her heritage. She listened closely as Pluckett explained that she was born much farther north, in the walled castle of Syliras. It was a place Madeira only knew rumours of; specifically rumours of it being orderly, safe, composed, and a complete antithesis of her own home city. The combination of a troubled home life and stifling city had sent this girl running away into the arms of some friendly Svefra.

"I sympathize", Madeira laughed raising her glass in an invisible toast. "Getting away from my suffocating family is one of the true joys of Lhavit. Though Alvadas will forever be my home. And you know..." She tipped her head playfully, as if regarding the busker from a different angle set all the pieces straight. "Alvadas sounds like where a free spirit like you is meant to be. If the itch to travel ever sets in again, cross Kalea and I promise you'll see something wonderful."

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation as Pluckett mentally shook off the lingering effects of the hypnotism. Conversations around the bar started to drift back into focus, as did the pointed looks Pluckett's boss Aleah was conspicuously shooting them. Madeira had a feeling her time with Pluckett was about to be cut short.

"I'm a professor at the Dusk Tower, I teach spiritism", she explained succinctly. She was aware she did not fit in the dark, brooding pigeonhole one expected a spiritist to fit. "It's not fair, you know", she smiled mischievously. "I've studied magic for decades, I teach it for a living, but it feels like you were born with it when you play that instrument. You'd better get up there and demonstrate it for these people before I get accused of monopolizing this wonder all to myself."

Madeira paused, looking uncharacteristically uncertain for a moment. No, don't overthink it, she commanded herself as she slowly leaned in. Half of seduction was instinct, the other half was confidence. Don't overthink it.

Still, she gave Pluckett all the time in the world to pull away. The kiss was meant to be soft, almost chaste. As gentle as a moths wing and just as fragile. Precursory to something deeper. Dimly Madeira realized this was the first time she had ever kissed another human being. She's had a Kelvic and a Dhani and that one Symenestra boy, but this is the first time she had kissed someone not poisonous, dangerous or a monster. It was so different and so... nice. Was this what all humans felt like?

She pulled away with a smile, lips tingling and dijed already sparking behind them.

"Break a leg, Pluckett."

Three taps of the tongue: hard pallet, soft pallet, teeth. She spun the word like wool, refining it to three prefect syllables with a soft pulse of pleasure between them. Pluckett. With a twist of will and a shudder of her soul she pressed the feeling into the word and left it to linger in the edges of the woman's thoughts.
User avatar
Madeira Craven
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1618
Words: 1422614
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 10
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (2)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Next

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests