Life of the Silver Tear: Music of Choice

The stars glisten in the sky above, darkening as the last light from the sun fades behind the western horizon. The wind kicks up, gently tossing fallen leaves across the paved road as the strange band of five people walk along. Growing a little listless at the silence, Shugojin looks at the new girl and decides to ask about her introduction. “So, you’re a musician?”

Kokeyera nods quietly, tucking a lock of brown hair over her ear. Guessing from Giniro’s complete silence that she’s used to traveling in quiet, he decides to try prodding again, “What do you play?”

The girl answers with modesty, but piquing interest in an obviously precious hobby, “Actually, I’ve been able to play everything I’ve ever tried.”

Shugojin is obviously impressed, and his musical accomplishments seem insignificant. “Wow. I can’t even master all the percussive.”

Kokeyera smiles and turns her attention fully to the dwarfling. “Oh? You play too? What’s your favorite?”

Koukatsu’s eyebrow lifts as he looks sidelong at the two, noticing that Giniro is very carefully listening to the pair. Reiko tries not to show any jealousy at the fact that her friend isn’t showing her any attention. Particularly when she's bored. The elder’s mouth quirks up in a smothered smirk.

Shugojin himself doesn’t seem to notice the others as he bashfully replies, “Oh, I’ve always been partial to this hollow dwarvish drum that my dad gave me. I know how to use a few horns too, but those are really for signaling.” He looks back up at her and swallows before asking back, “What about you?”

Kokeyera reaches into her collar and ruffles around, accidentally loosing her tunic. Shugojin blushes as he tries unsuccessfully not to let his gaze drop below her neck before she withdraws an ocarina. She takes what looks like a wooden potato but pauses as she glances back at him, her train of thought abruptly shifting. “You okay, Shugojin? Your nose is bleeding.”

The dwarfling almost chokes as he turns around, fishing around in a pocket for a spare cloth as he pinches his nose while he hurriedly replies, “I’m fine.” To distract her, he redirects attention to the object she drew that caused all this, “What’s that?”

Kokeyera looks back to the smooth, wooden object in her hands and smiles, remembering better times shared with the instrument. “An ocarina. These things are great. Lovely sound, small, portable, durable. I had one since I was a little girl.”

Her smile suddenly lessens, but she shakes her head. “I’ve also got a flute, but this thing is way easier to play.” As if to prove her point, she lifts the tuber-shaped instrument to her lips and begins to play a lively, melodious tune that puts a bounce in his step. Even Reiko, who radiated hostility since meeting her, and Giniro who hardly reacted to her, seemed to pick up in mood. Koukatsu’s proud gait falters, a look of mild distaste pulls his lips, and his stony aura shifts to . . . lackadaisical.

Kokeyera finishes her song and lowers her wind instrument, noting that Reiko has slowed down and is walking next to her, looking quite amiable. Deciding that they must have gotten off on the wrong foot, the human girl flashes her a quirky smile, “You must be a musician too. I can tell.”

Reiko’s cheeks touch with embarrassment and she admits, “Well, actually . . . dad thought it was important for me to be able to play.”

“Really? That’s great,” the round-eared girl replies enthusiastically. “What do you play?”

The elfling ducks her head down in modesty. Shugojin notices Koukatsu, now back to his subtly regal impassiveness, send a pointed look and the girl swallows. ‘Played everything,’ she said. Snotty little stuck up girl! She sticks her nose up and says, “My father had me learn to play stringed instruments, specializing on the harp.”

More sensing the impending fight than actually surprised – though the latter is true as well, she never talked about her father much and never mentioned playing such a high-class instrument – Shugojin speaks up with volume slightly louder than casual conversation requires, “You never told me you played the harp.”

Koukatsu casts a flickering glare at him and the dwarfling shivers. The Black Wind. He sends an open glare back and snaps, “Well, what do you play?”

The elder replies testily, surprising those used to his unwavering stoicism, “I don’t like music.”

Kokeyera casually tosses back, “Everybody likes something.”

The subdued glare he sends her in response nearly makes her cow under the masked intensity, and Shugojin shivers at the Black Wind again. The scholar replies, still snippy, “Not everybody has to like what you do.”

“Then I’m sure that you won’t have a problem with the rest of us enjoying one of the ascendant gifts,” Giniro shoots out in defense of the rest of the troop, surprising more than just the dwarfling who was just about to do the same. The elder turns his nose to the air and continues walking as if both the conversation and people holding it weren’t worth his time, and the four teens decide to ignore him for now.

Now that he had brought attention to himself, Kokeyera asks her guardian, “You never did say much about music. What about you?”

Giniro partially crosses his arms and starts fiddling with his gloves, as he had an unconscious habit of doing when he was nervous. “I . . . um . . . I never really did the playing music like other people. I always had other things to do, and I just listened to other people. I always liked it, but I’d never be as good as those other people.”

Kokeyera turns a soft gaze to him, remembering when he mentioned his mother singing lullabies after she sang one while caring for him after finding him in the ruins of Dhol a number of days ago. Shugojin, unknowing of their prior shared history, feels a pang of jealousy at the caring attention, and tries to smother it when he peripherally feels the Black Wind and the jealousy suddenly grows.

“Touched as I am by this emotional revelation, are we going to be going any time soon?”

Kokeyera crosses her arms tightly, letting her ocarina dangle by the string looping around her neck, and she snaps back, “You were the one who wanted to come with us, if you’ll remember!”

Fuming but silently acknowledging that they do have to keep moving if they’re going to leave east Naskwiz, Kokeyera stomps along and the rest of the troop follows along, everybody’s mood soured after the brief bonding experience. Shugojin looks at them and sighs, belatedly wishing he could do something to keep things from slipping like this.