memory’s so treacherous
Finn is already looking up and around them, like he can imagine the star spangled moonlight he might conjure with his playing. The sorts of stories he tells with his music are beyond words, but with the ability to alter the world around him, perhaps some kind of understanding might peek through. Whether the Spyglass wants people to understand is another matter entirely, but he’s still smiling as he glances back to Safrin.
”It sounds remarkable,” he admits, though his fidgeting belies his uncertainty. Still, the goddess makes a compelling point, hard as it is to hear, and his smile fades by degrees into something more like sad acceptance. A gift like the one she’s offering doesn’t sound like a thing he should be allowed - and yet, who is Finn to deny a goddess?
He nods slowly, forcing some of the tension to ebb out of his shoulders with a deep sigh. ”It would be something, to make music in that way.” He nods. ”Are you sure there is nothing you want in return?”
”It sounds remarkable,” he admits, though his fidgeting belies his uncertainty. Still, the goddess makes a compelling point, hard as it is to hear, and his smile fades by degrees into something more like sad acceptance. A gift like the one she’s offering doesn’t sound like a thing he should be allowed - and yet, who is Finn to deny a goddess?
He nods slowly, forcing some of the tension to ebb out of his shoulders with a deep sigh. ”It would be something, to make music in that way.” He nods. ”Are you sure there is nothing you want in return?”
one moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights
the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go
FINN
