Hester
I've told you time and time again
Spending Longnight away from family is so different. There's a constant undercurrent of worry, of stress, Hester unable to see the people she knows best, the people she cares about most, but she's confident they're safe. They've weathered a lifetime of this, one more Longnight won't kill them. Though, telling herself that is only so much of a balm. She still needs to find something to fill the space in her head, something to shoo the worry to the darker corners were it can be contained, managed, and that thing turns out to be conversation.
There are so many people cooped up whom she's never met, never even seen, and every one of them has a story, even if they aren't all willing to share. Even if most of them aren't even willing to talk for long with a nosy stranger. The library is where she'd had the worst luck finding people, but it was during one of those times where most people were asleep, the large room nearly empty.
Maybe she should take advantage of the opportunity the quiet room provided, and spend some time with her fiddle, instead of bothering people. The fact that the fiddle had to potential to bother everyone instead of just one person didn't even cross her mind while she pulls the instrument from the case slung over her back. It only took a moment to set up, a moment for a series of slow, haunting notes to sound, filling the library. They arranged themselves into a song easily, though Hester couldn't let herself relax completely. Her eyes moved around, scanning for anyone coming to yell, to ask her to stop.
Though luck seemed to not be on her side, one of the strings snapping just as the song was about to pick up, cutting off the sound with a sad plink, and a much louder "Fuck."
There are so many people cooped up whom she's never met, never even seen, and every one of them has a story, even if they aren't all willing to share. Even if most of them aren't even willing to talk for long with a nosy stranger. The library is where she'd had the worst luck finding people, but it was during one of those times where most people were asleep, the large room nearly empty.
Maybe she should take advantage of the opportunity the quiet room provided, and spend some time with her fiddle, instead of bothering people. The fact that the fiddle had to potential to bother everyone instead of just one person didn't even cross her mind while she pulls the instrument from the case slung over her back. It only took a moment to set up, a moment for a series of slow, haunting notes to sound, filling the library. They arranged themselves into a song easily, though Hester couldn't let herself relax completely. Her eyes moved around, scanning for anyone coming to yell, to ask her to stop.
Though luck seemed to not be on her side, one of the strings snapping just as the song was about to pick up, cutting off the sound with a sad plink, and a much louder "Fuck."
You sing the words, but don't know what it means
