{OPEN} {SE} sing a happy tune

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

Kneeling on the ground, facing seemingly nothing, was a man with a mess of blonde hair. It wasn't well kept, no, seeing as he hard far more other things to worry about. His emotions were haywire and things weren't going to well for him, not in the slightest.

He had just finished leaving a shrine, praying to Safrin and offering her a shiny stone. Now he was once more left kneeling, wanting now to just speak to Safrin in less of a shrine sense. Loren had taught him how helpful meditation was and Oliver wanted to try and combine it, feel closer to Safrin and offer her something without wanting a single thing in return. The Shrine might've been more fitting, but this was still perfect in his eyes. He was surrounded by new life, a place that had been untouched by the attack by the mud monster.

Closing his eyes, Oliver allowed himself to relax, taking in a few deep breaths, before his lips opened and he sung. Sung for his goddess, Safrin. A song from his youth.

"Oh, the summer time is coming,
And the trees are blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather.

Will you go, lassie, will you go?
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather,
Will you go, lassie, go?"

Her hair was well kept, despite having a number of other things to worry about. Most of the rest of her was just slightly a mess. Skin smeared with dirt here and here, fingernails short and rough, a map of tiny scars that came with living in Halo. But her hair was not a mess. There were not a lot of vanities one had time for, but Weaver allowed her this. Besides, to leave it down and long was asking for someone to grab it and rip it out. The braid, tossed over her right shoulder, was usually harder to get a hold of and it kept it out of her way (which was the more practical of her two reasons). Well, there was a third reason, which was to cover a scar no one could see anyway, but this didn’t seem like a real reason but rather a bit of crazy she did not divulge.

She’d had a rather productive morning in the forest. Her pack was full of all sorts of mushrooms and herbs she’d never seen, or at least rarely seen, at home. Hopefully nothing would kill you by touch, because she’d touched everything (avoiding the things that did in fact look obviously harmful, because even when you live in a wasteland you learn the basics of survival). She was about to go hunt down her brother and send him off to go discover what everything she’d found actually was when a song catches her attention.

Male voice, with an accent she doesn’t know and doesn’t think belongs to a native grounder (though, she has no way of being sure given that her life has been trapped inside Halo up until now). It is an interesting, rough but pleasant sound. She turns once, twice, trying to determine the direction of the sound. It doesn’t take her long to figure it out, and soon she spots a young man on his knees, singing. Strangely enough for her, she doesn’t cut in with some rude remark, but rather just leaned against a tree (careful as she does so of the scythe slung across her back), listening. “Do you mind an audience?” she says, when he reaches a point where it doesn’t feel like interrupting. Truthfully, she wonders who he is singing to and why, but she’s not here to make enemies (which Korbin helpfully reminds her every time they cross paths), so she sticks to asking for permission rather than why.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

The blonde was deeply engrossed in his song, not really caring about anyone else who might judge him. He wasn't the most incredible singer, but he at least could sing the right notes and keep a tune going. It was obvious that this song was something special to him, something from his old home. It was nice to be able to just sing, not really worry about anyone else...

And then he heard a voice.

His eyes opened and he turned to look at a new girl. His cheeks lit up with a light blush, but he still nodded. "Sure, you can stay and listen." Well, guess he has an audience now? It wasn't something he expected, but sure. If someone wants to stay and listen then they can.

With that, he turned his head back to the original position and tried to calm down any nerves before he started to sing once more, continuing on with the song.

"
I will build my love a bower
By yon clear and crystal fountain,
And all around the bower,
I'll pile flowers from the mountain.

If my true love, she won't have me,
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather."

His voice trailed off and he looked back to the girl. "Would you like to sit with me?"

He lets her stay, a slight blush on his very pale cheeks. She’d actually tried not to be a jerk and interrupt, though that didn’t work it seems. Probably because Weaver is inherently sort of a jerk, even when she’s making an effort to make friends rather than enemies. The bulk of her life has been spent hunting monsters that want to kill her, and as such, social manners always seemed of secondary importance. Korbin always told her social manners were a survival skill, which she supposed was true and was the only reason she actually listened when he lectured her about it. Even if knives, scythes, and sex seemed like better survival weapons. He learned to wield a weapon at her demand, and so she learned to be civil at his.

The song is actually enjoyable, even if she doesn’t understand why he was singing it. Maybe he just really enjoyed singing? This seemed highly likely to Weaver, but mostly because she just can’t imagine really enjoying singing. Her lack of imagination here might stem from the fact that she can’t hold a tune, unlike the blond boy who maybe isn’t stellar but definitely isn’t bad.

He sings another few verses before pausing, inviting her to sit with him. This seemed less awkward than standing above him just creepily watching, and so she nods and joins. Crossing her legs beneath her, she settles her dress over her legs in an effort to keep the sun off any bare skin. Sun that strong would burn her northern, Halovian skin to a crisp. Already her ears and the tip of her nose were pink from two days spent in the brutal sun, and she was thinking maybe she’d need to go trade for a hat.

“Are you singing for any reason in particular? she finally asks, because curiosity killed the cat and she was definitely the cat. At least she had nine lives, though by now a few had already been used. Maybe she had six or seven left. “You’re pretty good. she offers, trying out this whole manners thing. Maybe Korbin’s lessons were paying off. “I’m Weaver, by the way.”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

It was far less of her interrupting him, more of him not being used to having an audience. This was only really the second time that he had the opportunity to sing to another person, meaning he hadn't quite overcome any stage freight. Oliver could be bold, but performing in front of a large audience? Yeesh. That was a bit too much.

When the girl decided to join him, he offered her a small smile and turned to look forward again. He had clearly blanked on the rest of the lyrics. "Cant seem to remember the rest...oh well." He let out a light, carefree shrug. Too bad, seeing as she had just sat down to join him.

Her voice rang in his ears and he turned to look over to her. His eyebrow raised and he thought for a moment, thinking of how to explain it. "I'm singing to Safrin. She's...done a lot to help me...also I was told that this was part of a thing that's happening soon." Yep. Nice and vague. Great job of explaining, Oliver. He could draw decently well, but was he a poet? Fuck no. The compliment earned a light blush and a grin on his face. "Thank you, Weaver. My name is Oliver." He laughed a small bit before turning to look forward. His hand reached towards the ground and he plucked up a blade of grass.

"Tell me more about yourself....I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new?"

And just like that, the song is over. Or really, her new companion has forgotten the rest of the lyrics. She doesn’t blame him, given that she couldn’t hold a tune and definitely couldn’t be bothered to remember lyrics to songs. She could pull a few lines out of her pocket if you really wanted (but you didn’t, because remember, she can’t sing), but that was about the end of it. So they turn to conversation, and he gives her an answer, though it’s not the most satisfying. Weaver wasn’t one for prying too deep though, knowing how she guards her own secrets, and so she doesn’t press the issue really.

“I’ve been hearing her name around here a lot lately,” she says, remembering the conversation with Deimos about catching the sun and the upcoming festival. She had no fondness for the gods, perhaps only because they wanted nothing to do with her and she found herself rather bitter over it. Was it her fault that a bunch of people rose up against them like a billion years before she was born? Okay fine, it was maybe a couple hundred or whatever but still, it was well before her. “Does Safrin enjoy music?” she asks, not teasing but actually curious because it’s not like she would know. Safrin is nothing but a myth to Weaver.

She fidgets with a knife on her belt in an absent-minded sort of way. There’s nothing threatening about the gesture, but rather something instinctual, as if her whole life has been with knives around her waist. This was largely true, too. “Born and raised in Halo, so I’ve never been anywhere else until now. So new to the Hallowed Grounds, but not to Caido. It’s rather strange to be able to leave Halo, honestly.” It was wonderful and terrifying, all at once. Change was both a good and bad thing, she knew, but she didn’t know if it would prove to be a better or worse thing for Halo as a whole. “How about you?” his accent suggests he’s an outlander, but she decides not to assume for once and lets him answer as he wishes.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

Even with the last bit of the song being missing, Oliver thought it still ended pretty nicely. It wasn't a song that really told a story, meaning one could probably go without hearing the rest for a bit. He knew that the rest of the song was somewhere in his mind, it would just have to wait to be unlocked like the rest of his memories.

Turning to look at Weaver, he tilted his head. Someone who doesn't know much about Safrin? Well, time to share the good word of Goddess Safrin! "Yeah. She deals a lot with the sun and seeing as the sun is out a lot, we talk about her a lot." Oh yeah. The myth portion to, which should answer her next question. "I've never personally asked if she likes music or singing, but from what I have heard, we sing to her in hopes that the sun will remain in the sky..." His voice trailed off as he contemplated whether or not it could actually happen.

A Halo Natural came off as a surprise. Oliver had no idea that people could even be born there. What if people could arrive there too? "My name is Oliver, I arrived her a couple of seasons ago. Currently I'm just doing art and trying to find my place." He smiles at her, trying to show he was pretty okay with his current situation. It could obviously be better, but he wouldn't complain.

Then curiosity got the better of him. "May I ask you a couple of questions about Halo? I've never really been able to before now."

She recalls what Deimos told her as the boy talks, the tradition of catching the sun, of giving an offering to Safrin of gifts or song. It doesn’t really answer the question as to whether or not Safrin actually liked being sung to, but she supposes that isn’t really the point. Weaver had enjoyed it, so maybe Safrin liked music when it was good and not so much when it was bad. Weaver would be sure not to sing to the goddess, just in case that would land Weaver further on her bad side. “I do know she deals with the sun, but the sun is not our friend in Halo and so I suppose I never would think to ask her to keep it around.”

How different their lives were, even on the same continent. It didn’t feel like the same continent though. Without the portals, really, travel between Halo and The Hallowed Grounds would likely be impossible (assuming there was no bubble that had trapped them all in Halo), so perhaps in some ways it was expected that things would be different here. Not that she minds, it just takes some getting used to, now that the world has been made slightly smaller.

She listens as he tells her about himself, that he has only been here for a few seasons. That seems to be the trend that she is finding, Outlanders that haven’t really been here all that long and a collection of Naturals that knew no other place. It made sense in the timeline of it all. “What kind of art?” she asks, finding herself curious.

He also asks his own question, and she nods. “Certainly. It’s mostly snow and ice and death in Halo, but I’ll tell you what I can. Story time with Weaver. Maybe Safrin will enjoy it.” She is unwilling to sing to the goddess, but she could offer one of her followers (she assumes, anyway, though she isn’t certain) the stories of Halo and lift them to Safrin as well.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

The blonde boy tilts his head at her comment, clearly confused. The sun wasn't their friend? But wasn't the sun a good thing? Seeing as when they didn't have the sun, that meant there was darkness. Did these people know how to deal with LongNight? Could they potentially be able to help the Hollowed Ground learn how to better deal with the darkness? "Why do you say it's not your friend? Isn't light better than absolute darkness? It's also much warmer when we have sun, so do you guys simply prefer the cold?" He wasn't trying to be rude, he was just completely lost on what she was saying. How could someone prefer no sun?

Tapping his fingers on his legs, he thought for a second, chewing on his lip. "Well, right now I guess I really enjoy painting...and sketching...and maybe working with my hands? I'm not a fan of drawing landscapes or buildings...but I like to draw things. Like...a bunny or something. I wanna learn to draw humans someday too." Art was fun, so he didn't mind telling her a bit about the type of art he tried to work with. He wasn't nearly as good as some people he knew, but he still tried his best.

Weaver would go on to surprise him, earning a wide-eyed look and a quick nod. "Please! Do tell me all your stories- er- some stories? Tell me about like...what creatures you guys have. Tell me a heroic tale or something hopeful. I mean...Halo is very beautiful, so surely you much have some pretty stories to tell me." Pretty stories was an odd choice of words, but hopefully she would understand what he was looking for.

Alright so she’s being slightly over dramatic about the sun, but not entirely. She laughs slightly, at herself or just jovial, but not at him. “I mean it’s light is useful, don’t get me wrong. But it is never warm in Halo, only slightly less frigid. And in LongHeat in particular the sun just glares off all the ice and snow so badly that we can barely see, so it’s not all that helpful.” She shrugs, figuring he’s never visited Halo and therefore doesn’t quite understand what their life is life. It is freezing all the time and it’s not uncommon to barely have any daylight. They are all so capable of keeping a fire alive that it’s just rather normal for them. LongNight still sucked, though. That was just the nature of LongNight.

She listens as he talks about art. “Kudos to you. I am bad at all those things so it’s always impressive to find someone who doesn’t.” She could manage to draw a pretty nice stick figure (you know, the kind that has fingers at least), but that was generally the end of her art skills. “You are welcome to practice drawing me, I won’t be offended if I look like a bunny.” She grins at him with a jest, her tone light and teasing.

She is surprised at how eager he is for story-time with Weaver though. Her mother’s stories were far better, and usually Weaver just found herself poaching her mothers. She never told them as well though, never quite got the nuance of it right, but no one here knew her mother and at least, they could not compare. “I’ll tell you a tale of a huntress, a master of fire, who sought a white dragon.” Her tone becomes something of a story-tellers, a bit more rhythmic and dramatic, though she still cannot help but think that her mother’s voice was better suited to this. “This huntress was a beautiful woman, brave and some might say reckless. There were tales of a white dragon in the mountains of Halo, living near the top of its peak and deep inside a cave. She set out one morning with a group of hunters, for you never hunt a dragon alone, and made their way to the top of The Fangs, through memory snow and many ursurs.  After days of travel, and days more of searching, they found the dragon. It is said all but the huntress fled, as she alone could control the dragon’s fire and turned it back in on the dragon, besting it in combat. The huntress kept the riches for herself, supposedly, but she was never seen again.”

She pauses, letting the story sink in. “It’s mostly a children’s story, really, so I doubt it’s all true. But the locations, the animals, the spirit of the story tell you all you really need to know of Halo. It is a beautiful and deadly place.”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

Once she explains, Oliver finally understands why the sun isn't exactly all that great of a thing at times. He didn't have enough experience with snow to know about the reflection thing, so he feels a small bit stupid once she kindly explains things. Really, she had a ton of patience for someone who knew so little. It felt kind of nice to hear it in such an easy to understand way without being treated like shit for not knowing something. She was a nice person and he'd certainly remember that for later.

Luckily, she was also kind enough to share a story. With wide eyes, Oliver watched her perform the tale, telling him of dangers that the mountains hide away. It's clearly a very musical story, one that is aimed for those of a younger audience, but that doesn't mean it isn't interesting. It left him with so many questions, but seeing as she couldn't even prove the validity of the story, he chose to not ask. Dragons...wow. What if the mountains held something magical like that? Would they find the lost princess? Part of him had hoped that the princess and dragon would bond, but guess not everything ends in a happily ever after.

The story had ended, but Oliver wasn't quite done. "Thank you Wessex...I'm sure Safrin loved to hear your story. You are such an incredible storyteller." Maybe she wouldn't like the subject, but Weaver certainly was a fantastic performer. "You know...the Artist's Guild could use someone like you? I could talk to the guildmaster if you'd like...I think he'd love to have a storyteller like you join us." He offered her a smile before a look of surprise appeared on his face. Did he...owe her for the story? Do storytellers charge their guests? Well shit.

"Oh yeah! Is there anything I can do for you? I mean...seeing as you told me the story. I can...make you something to catch the sun with? Or I can...well, I can make you a lot of stuff... but I do owe you something for you spending your time on me." It only seemed fair. Exchanging a story for a good.

She doesn’t find it weird that their lackluster feelings toward the sun are foreign to him. After all, he’s lived with a vastly different experience than she has. It’s strange to her that they love it as much as they do, though she understands why. LongNight isn’t nearly as bad in Halo, according to the rumors she’s heard. They lack the deadly monsters (though they have them daily, really) of the Grounds, and they are used to the dark. They are used to keeping fires alive to light their way and keep them warm. They are used to being stuck inside for long stretches at a time when snow or temperatures keep them from going outside.

She laughs slightly as he tells her she’s a good story teller. ”Thanks, I’m sure my mother would be pleased. She used to tell me the story, and she was a much better storyteller than me. I just mimic what I remember.” Then he suggests inviting her to the Artists Guild, and she shakes her head slightly in a polite no. ”Thanks for the offer, though I don’t think I’m cut out for that. Glad to hear there’s a group though. Someone ought to make life a little prettier.” It just wouldn’t be her. She’d make it messy and wild and fun.

”A story for a song, it seems fair,” she says, though it’s clear she’s still interested in the offer. Less for what he can make and simply that he can make things. Creation magic always interested her, and so she adds, ”But I love surprises. Trinkets, silly little things, knives.” There was almost a theme there, except the knives, but they were vastly important. ”Surprise me?”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

OLIVER

Within the eye, mysteries of the soul burn deeply beneath the fiery chasms of love

and patiently wait for an awakening

A soft smile appeared on his face as their exchange became light and carefree. This girl was being very humble, almost like she didn't want to be praised, which he was fine with. He wouldn't force her to feel uncomfortable if she didn't like to hear praise, but he wasn't a major fan of her immediately assuming that she wasn't good enough for the Guild or something. "Well, you are still invited to come to our events, if you'd like? Hell, the doors are pretty much always open." He offered her a warm smile before his eyes seemed to light up as an idea came to his head. "How's about this....maybe we can meet up again? You could come to the guild and we could just make something. You don't have to join, but it'd give you an outlet to express yourself....you'd be surprised how amazing and weightlifting it is to do that." His voice was lit up like a fire, blazing with excitement and joy over the prospect of possibly helping Weaver to free herself of the chains that bound her.

There was a bright side that while she was humble, she also was able to accept his offer of a gift. With a nod, he focused on his hands and...nothing. With a scrunch of his nose, he tried to crack his knuckles, confused on why a knife didn't just appear in his hands. Okay...maybe he could only create something that he had confidence in. Yeah. That was totally likely.

Focusing once more, a very, very small vase would appear in his hands. It was barely the size of a cup, but it was cute. Laughing awkwardly, he held it out to her. "I hope you can find something to do with this? Maybe if you can find a flower that'll survive in Halo, it'll do nicely in it."

She has a hard time fancying herself a storyteller or an artist of any sort. It feels foreign to her, and it’s not that she’s trying to dismiss the compliment but she certainly doesn’t know what to do with it. Besides, in truth, she seems to have collected a number of things already here in the Grounds and one more seemed like too much. Her home and her life were in Halo, and while she liked it here, she didn’t plan to spend all her time here. His next offer seems a little less like commitment though, and he seems to be so excited about the possibility that she wouldn’t turn him down even if she wanted to. Though she finds she doesn’t want to. ”I would like that. Where is the guild, so I can find you?” She’s found her way to a lot in the Grounds without guidance, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t just going to stumble on the Artists Guild without a little direction.

She’s less sure it will be the amazing outlet he suggests, but that’s fine. She doesn’t feel bound in chains for not considering herself an artist. She was a wild thing in her own way, a fighter and a survivor when all the odds were against her. Recklessness ran in her veins. Still, she didn’t mind the idea of sitting down and working with her hands. You learned some basics of crafting in Halo out of sheer need, given the lack of trade there. Maybe it would be nice to make something that didn’t have a function. Something pretty and frivolous.

Though maybe she’s not capable of frivolous. She watches as he makes a cute little vase, taking the gift as it is offered to her. ”There are some good indoor herbs, actually. I usually have some for some flavor with my diet of ningo meat.” she says with a grin, looking at the cute little vase. It was pretty, but nothing was frivolous in Halo. There was always a use for something. ”Thank you.”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens