Amalia, too, is familiar with rounds, having spent much of her childhood singing alongside her grandmother. Her own hesitation springs from two things: the horrendous sound of a snow leopard yowling, and the knowledge that in the position of last she will likely have to belt out solo notes, without the (moderately) more melodious voices of the others to hide beneath.
But the others take to it with such abandon that the big cat cannot help be swayed. Given permission to sing her heart out, Jyoti joins in with Remi, never one to miss a chance to sing her starlit song. Remi roars something like a tune; Ianto joins with yips and barks; Caiside bellows, surprisingly lyrical; and at last Amalia joins the fray, her voice a pitchy series of mewls and yowls, miserably unpleasant but certainly loud.
She cannot imagine Safrin enjoys this - doubts, indeed, any sane being could - but it is distracting if nothing else, a fun and fearsome Attuned din.
But the others take to it with such abandon that the big cat cannot help be swayed. Given permission to sing her heart out, Jyoti joins in with Remi, never one to miss a chance to sing her starlit song. Remi roars something like a tune; Ianto joins with yips and barks; Caiside bellows, surprisingly lyrical; and at last Amalia joins the fray, her voice a pitchy series of mewls and yowls, miserably unpleasant but certainly loud.
She cannot imagine Safrin enjoys this - doubts, indeed, any sane being could - but it is distracting if nothing else, a fun and fearsome Attuned din.
