Jigano was nothing if not professional. That was why, in spite of his less-than-impressive meeting with his fellow Rathskeller colleague he had allowed himself to be hired for an evening of music, to set the mood for Bastien's entertainment. He knew what a masquerade was, though he'd never had opportunity to attend one, and he had a pretty good idea of what to do for a song list.
And he had made sure that Bastien would be paying him well - so far as trade and barter went.
The bard, no stranger to theatrics, had decided that, as the musical accompaniment and not the focus of attention, he should aim for elegance in simplicity. He went with white, of course. A long white robe over his usual clothing, that folded across his body with a wide belt and wide sleeves, similar to one his mother had worn for special occasions. His white hair was pulled back and intricately looped at the sides, falling straight to the small of his back in the center. A simple half-mask in pure white covered the top half of his face, and he had brought his instruments to set up early.
He had not been pleased to find holes in the roof and the winter's chill suffusing the ruined building when he arrived. It wasn't good for the instruments or the musician, as he'd informed Bastien with cool displeasure before settling himself into the corner opposite the food tables, adjusting his lap harp delicately. In the end, though, he'd opted to begin with his flute, trusting it's sturdy wood to stay in tune longer in the cold. A lilting song spun from his breath and fingers filled the star-spangled room, slipping out through the door and holes in the ceiling to coax the party-goers in and set toes to tapping.
And he had made sure that Bastien would be paying him well - so far as trade and barter went.
The bard, no stranger to theatrics, had decided that, as the musical accompaniment and not the focus of attention, he should aim for elegance in simplicity. He went with white, of course. A long white robe over his usual clothing, that folded across his body with a wide belt and wide sleeves, similar to one his mother had worn for special occasions. His white hair was pulled back and intricately looped at the sides, falling straight to the small of his back in the center. A simple half-mask in pure white covered the top half of his face, and he had brought his instruments to set up early.
He had not been pleased to find holes in the roof and the winter's chill suffusing the ruined building when he arrived. It wasn't good for the instruments or the musician, as he'd informed Bastien with cool displeasure before settling himself into the corner opposite the food tables, adjusting his lap harp delicately. In the end, though, he'd opted to begin with his flute, trusting it's sturdy wood to stay in tune longer in the cold. A lilting song spun from his breath and fingers filled the star-spangled room, slipping out through the door and holes in the ceiling to coax the party-goers in and set toes to tapping.
