[PQ] [SE] Sing Down the Stars

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON IT ROSE TOO SOON AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD Deimos closes out the refrain gamely, his rousing baritone rough and untrained, but pleasing to her ears. She skirts her hand over his own, a ghostly touch on their shared log, leaning in to whisper: "I think I liked the other better." It is a teasing reminder of their day in the woods, more lively, more rancorous- a reminder that she asks for no charades, relishes his wild and insolent ways. Jigano, enthusiastic as ever, is quick to up the challenge of the thing, causing the girl some small chagrin. Instruments. Amalia has no musical talent when it comes to anything aside her voice, and even calling that a talent is something the girl would consider a stretch. "But I don't even own an instrument." Almost petulant with a pointed pout, the baker affects the role of younger sister well, glaring good-naturedly at the bard. His suggestion that Deimos make her something is met with a blink of quiet surprise, and she turns to the mountain, a challenge on her face, eyebrow raised in defiance as she wonders what he might produce. And it is... a triangle. Taking the thing into her hand, Amalia can only stare for a moment as Deimos rises to fetch his drum. Disbelief shifts quickly to a mischievous grin as the girl tings gently on the metal, a ringing sound filling the air. Even Jyoti is entertained: she swims closer on invisible air, investigating the silver shape, something like laughter leaving her lungs in deep-voiced coos and trills. Looking up at Deimos, the girl cocks a lopsided grin. "I'm glad you have such faith in me," she drawls, turning her attention back to the device, perhaps the easiest instrument which she has ever seen. She does not look up as the mountain speaks his refrain, too deeply absorbed in keeping the beat, her ting'ing falling neatly among his taps. She has good rhythm if nothing else, a mercy, for she will not lead them astray. But ah, she feels them, a strain made particularly for her- more ardent, and she wonders if he knows her doubts, her fear she will never outshine the rain. As the words fall last from Deimos' lips Amalia picks them up again, glancing at Jigano, devilry on her face. "Into the great and wondrous world, We offer a stirring cacophony: A series of notes, clamor of beats, 'Twixt baker, bard, and soldier three!" a m a l i a You said it's life that moves too much We're losing touch But I'm not losing you