deep into that darkness peering

Long-fingered hands, supple and narrow and strong, came finally to rest upon the ivory keys. When the last notes rang into silence, the young man turned slowly to gaze down at the woman by his side. Though the haze in his eyes was still there and still whispered of tears shed so often that they had lost their meaning, some new clarity had entered them too. Enough to see her. Enough for what he saw to paint a small, crooked but rather soft smile onto lips that almost had forgotten how to laugh. "Not bad," he murmured. "Not bad, but..." He stood. Reached up onto the wall, and plucked from the multitude of choices a simple lute. Retreating from the stool, to the plush armchairs where he could sink his long, lanky frame down with a creak of joints, the stillness was soon filled with the deft plucking of strings to twist, tune and adjust the strings. Too long unused, too often neglected. When he was done, the not-raven bowed a dark haired, feather-clad head and began to tease the strings. Gently, hesitant at first, like someone who had been asleep for too long might need a moment to recall the act of breathing. As with the piano, the surety was regained with staggering swiftness, and before long a cascade of sound was rising up to fill the air. Shimmering, gleaming, this tune was slow and soothing like the crackling of a fireplace burned low, where embers slow to die sunk in on themselves and endured. Survived. Thrived, in waiting for some small fuel and a gust of wind from which to rise once more. Every once in a while, that golden gem tied to his wrist would glow, and another light shoot up. Up to the sky, to the stars - and as it did, peace would come over the troubadeur all anew. K O R B I N It's a lie for a lie and I'm getting tired An old lullabye, drifting through the sky