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+---- Thread: ships in stained glass bottles sailing on (/showthread.php?tid=4011)
ships in stained glass bottles sailing on - Harper - 08-10-2020
Harper hasn't ventured near Aumakua, even before the eruption. Now, with the rains helping wash away that which the citizens haven't shored or cleaned away from the beaches, the devestation has a poignant sort of eeriness that bores into his soul as his feet carry him along the darkened sand. The guitar strapped across his front strums solemnly, low notes echoing from beneath calloused, practiced fingers. The sky is dark and oppressive, the slumped summit sagging and broken against the horizon.
He'd come here to try and contain the flurry of information and options that had sprouted unexpectedly from his conversation with Phoebe. Music and wandering are his only reliable options now, where once patrol and battle had been time-tested escapes. Even destroying another sandbag at the ring doesn't appeal to him this evening, needing movement with more direction than stagnancy.
Harper doesn't consciously begin to sing, to pluck chords instead of idle, haunting strings. Safrin's song had been the first he'd made for the Gods, but now, with the wreckage and desolation before him, he finds another on his mind. Though the lyrics don't seem to come as easily, still conflicted over that particular meeting. But any who may lend an ear - though this stretch of land seems empty - will hear his crooning voice rising above the soft guitar music. [Say]"I reign in my kingdom of death. I judge the living, and the soon to be dead..."[/say]
RE: ships in stained glass bottles sailing on - Zephyr - 08-18-2020
It's been a weird couple days. Lotta weird shit happening. Running into a kid with a guitar who's decided the middle of a monsoon is the best time to be serenading a lighthouse? Not even top five.
That said: damn, man, the fuck is your plan?
[say]"Nice song."[/say] You're on your way home from Vai's place (really gotta move her closer, and into a house with fewer people living there {what\'re they at, like, seven?}) when you see the lad, his voice rising through a lull in the rain. Truthfully he doesn't look that much younger than you, but then again you do look quite a bit older than you are (thanks, genetics). [say]"Cheery."[/say]
Drawing to a stop beside him, you stare out into the sea, the looming clouds an ever-present threat of imminent deluge this time of year. If he's planning to sing the rain away he's in for a shit time.