Open [World's End Grotto] Small Songs in the Morning

Zib and her flute walk into a lounge...

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

Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

[World's End Grotto] Small Songs in the Morning

Postby Zibriah on September 6th, 2019, 1:03 am


1st of Fall | 10th Bell | World's End Grotto | Zeltiva

Midmorning was a slow time in the Grotto's lounge, and Zib was grateful for it. Having rented a single room for the season, the young woman could easily have hidden herself away and normally would have done so - but for the fact that her room had no window, and Zibriah was fond of seeing the sky. So she, and her flute, had ventured downstairs and sought out the owner, Serra, with a request she expected would be denied: would the other woman mind if Zib and her flute played a bit in the lounge?

To her surprise, Serra had given her blessing, of a sort, and Zib had settled herself comfortably in a chair overlooking the mountains. It was cozy, and the view was beautiful - Zeltiva was a port city, but it was also a city at the foot of the Zastoska Mountains, and neither outshadowed the other for sheer impressiveness. Clear green eyes took in every drop of detail from the comfort of her seat before raising her flute to her lips. A rustle from the doorway briefly distracted the young woman: Serra. The innkeeper had chosen to remain nearby and Zib suspected that if her notes were sour, she would be quickly encouraged to pollute a different airspace, so she chose to play a tune she'd known since her earliest memory. It was a Benshiran folk song, the notes light and lilting, and though she had never experienced it, she imagined the song dancing across the desert and bouncing over the hot sands.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement: Serra had apparently deemed her performance inoffensive enough to go back to running the inn. Zib allowed herself a small smile as she began the same tune again, this time allowing herself to relax into the music. The note were as familiar to her as her name -

Zibriah Snowsong.

The thought came unbidden, and the instinctive twitch at even thinking the Vantha surname caused her fingers to skip and stutter, briefly interrupting the flow of the tune.


The thought was angry, stubborn, a plea, as though even the thought would be enough to condemn her. Not for the first time she wondered what had happened to cause Morwen's withdrawal from the rest of the world. There was surely a good reason, from everything her father had said about the goddess, she was a protector who cared for her people. Zib didn't have enough experience with gods and goddesses to say either way, but now that her father was dead, she was loathe to argue against what he had always taught her. It was an irreconcilable situation, and Zib backed away from it, returning to the comfort of her flute.

Taking a deep breath, she began playing a new song, this one more intricate, with notes that seemed to trip over themselves in a melancholy jumble. Her song choice was unconscious, and her thoughts were still too scattered to recognize that the notes coming from her flute were a strange mix of the Benshiran song she'd started with and a Vantha tune, the two twining seamlessly together in the air.

Word count: 527
User avatar
Posts: 17
Words: 9926
Joined roleplay: September 3rd, 2019, 12:27 am
Race: Human, Mixed
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests