A Curious Audience (Social)

The tranquillity that had settled on one of Plegia's more abundant countryside villages complimented the impressive star scape that glimmered across the night sky. Being as close to the Plegian-Ylissean border as she dared to be, Hannah had already checked in with the local Innkeeper, albeit with some difficulty. She managed to convey her wish by placing ten gold pieces on the counter of the 'Merchant's Flagon'. When the Innkeeper, mistaking her silence for rudeness, finally understood Hannah's condition, he immediately softened. Not a fit man by any means, he had insisted on putting her belongings up in her room. As his chubby fingers gripped the strap of her bag and he waddled up the stairs, Hannah immediately headed for the door.

Inhaling a long, deep breath of crisp night air, the fallen songstress shut her eyes briefly, taking what comfort she could from the peace that held this sleepy village. Aimlessly she began to wonder to the edges of the buildings, not managing to smile at the night-watchmen doused her in torchlight as she passed them. Hannah cast her eyes across the expansive plain before her, spotting a collection of thickets and small trees a short walk from the village walls.

Her harp clutched to her side, Hannah weaved her way in between the thin trunks and knee-high bushes. Finding a particularly sheltered spot in the thickets, she managed to find a stump. Sitting down gently, she placed her harp in her lap before glancing up at the stars through the canopy. She suppressed a solitary tear and began to let her fingers run along the delicate strings of her instrument. Her sorrow channelled through her fingers as she played a slow, haunting yet beautiful melody. Hannah did as she always did, losing herself in the art, letting her mind indulge in the distraction of venting her emotions through the only means of communication she had left.

Noah slipped out of his room and to the stairs of the inn. He had been writing down the details of of his journey thus far, but he had just run out of ink. He doubted he would be able to find some at this time of night, but still, he felt as though he should at least try to chronicle recent events while they were still fresh in his mind.

As he reached the top of them, though, he saw a young woman who looked very familiar. Something about the whole scene seemed strange to him, though. He stood there for a few moments trying to remember where he seemed to have seen her before, but he couldn't quite work it out. She turned to leave, though, before he could put his finger on it. The tactician turned his body as he descended the stairs to avoid the proprietor. He hadn't planned on it, but... his curiosity was piqued. He supposed he could wait for the ink until he had a new event to record, at any rate.

For some reason he couldn't let go of the nagging feeling of half-recognition. It bothered him more than he thought it would. And for that, a reason he would find frivolous in retrospect, he followed her.

He had no idea where she--or by extension, he--was going, only that the path she took led them straight into the woods.

It was only when the lady began to play that he remembered where he'd seen her. He had seen her playing in a market square, long ago. He didn't remember her name, but he thought it started with I... Iv- Iva? He wasn't sure... The moment made him stand transfixed, as though he were back before his journey began. But... something about the sound was different. It felt... hollow somehow. Despite the wave of nostalgia it stirred in him, it also seemed too sad to be the same music he'd heard years prior.

He found himself stepping forward into the pale moonlight. "Hello?"

The footsteps crunching along the forest floor went unnoticed to Hannah, who was lost in her ministrations. It wasn't until a voice called out, cutting the illusions she had constructed around herself. Immediately her fingers stilled, ending the melody with an odd note. Her eyes went wide as she scanned the thickets. Her blonde hair fanned around her, obscuring her view as she tried to identify who had called out to her. Hannah felt her body stiffen, as though she were a wild animal caught by a hunting party. Her fingers quivered, anxious to convey her fear through the harp strings they were hovering above. Her lips trembled as she considered who it might have been.

His voice sounded gentle enough. On first instincts she was certain that he hadn't sought her out in malice. Still she remained fastened to her stump, not reassured completely. Hannah drew her harp into an embrace, rousing a few faint pulses of sound, which sounded like a thunderclap to her. Perhaps if she remained still and hid her face beneath her long hair, this intruder would simply leave...

Noah winced as the figure's hands shrunk from the strings and abruptly ended the performance with a decidedly inelegant sound. That was... probably not the best idea he'd ever had. What did he expect would happen, interrupting someone all of a sudden in the dead of night? He scratched his head and approached hesitantly, hoping his embarrassment didn't show. Her retreat made her look very fragile somehow, and he immediately felt as though he had upset some sort of ethereal balance. The music, and this place, and even her; it all felt so natural for them to be together, that he felt as though he had committed some great sin by breaking its flow.

That she looked so withdrawn now made him feel even more out of place. Though he had not arrived much later that she had, it truly felt as though he was somehow intruding on a scene he had no business in. He took a deep breath. He wanted to calm her down, but what words to use...

"Um... I'm sorry for startling you. Are you all right?"

Now she was being immediately addressed, Hannah peered up through her hair. Against the stark moonlight she saw the green glimmer in this man's eyes. They were beautiful. She realised she was staring, right into his eyes. She recoiled, turning her head to the side, even though her blushed cheeks wouldn't have been visible. Absently she conveyed her embarrassment with a short, high chord, stilling her hand as soon as she realised what she was doing.

He had asked her a question. Flustered, Hannah nodded her head slowly, gulping silently. Her body was taut with static energy as she forced her fingers away from the harp strings, although they still twitched. Suddenly she felt very hot.

Noah wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. The woman had instinctively reached for the strings of her harp for some reason, though her nod indicated she heard him at least. It began to dawn on him how stupid this idea was; he had not thought of what to ask her even if he did catch up.

"Pardon, but I feel as though I recognize you. You... resemble a performer I saw once. What was it they called her? The 'merry maven?' "

If that were true, though, she looked far less merry now. The resemblance was uncanny, but he saw no vivacity at all in her. Maybe he had the wrong person...

The sting of that stage name... It pricked the corners of her eyes. But she refused to cry in front of a stranger: it wasn't his fault. Steadily, she stood up from her stump. Carefully she placed her harp where she had been sitting. With both her hands free, Hannah, scrunched up her hair, pulling it behind her which left two bouncy bangs dangling around her forehead. Although it pained her, she creased the corners of her mouth into a less than half-hearted smile, creating a brief picture of the performer she used to be.

After a few seconds, she let her hair free once more. It swooped across her back, some of it snaking slowly down her front. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him of her downfall, to make him understand. Instead she looked solemnly at him, blinking back the wetness that was dwelling behind her eyes.

Even though the girl smiled, it seemed to Noah to be half-hearted. Still... for a moment she did indeed look like the player she once was, and he felt as though he were still a student learning the ways of war. Simpler were the days when he didn't have to worry about roving bandits and war breaking out...

But as soon as she let her hair back down, her expression turned far less mirthful. This was certainly not the same person as before. It felt wrong to leave her like this, though something felt... odd. She hadn't spoken a word.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

He drew closer to her and tried to sit next to her. As he did so, her harp caught his eye. There seemed to be writing on the frame.

"Ivalyn? Is that your n--"

Before he got any farther, however, his fingers brushed against the strings and he was thrown off his feet by a gust of air. It knocked the wind out of him and launched him backwards, screaming, "Aaaaargh!"

As Hannah sat back down, he seemed to... He was sitting next to her! She hadn't had another human being this close to her ever since she'd stopped performing... Although, his presence wasn't particularly frightening, so she allowed him to do as he pleased. She felt awkward when he asked her another question. Her voice was gone she knew, but her lips quivered, longing to feel the vibrations pass out into the atmosphere... As she flustered herself, his hands strayed towards her harp just as he pronounced her last name.

He must have been a magician of sorts. A rough-housing mage that had tried to accost her instrument a month or so ago had met the same fate. The discharge of air knocked Noah onto the woodland floor. He lay stunned, motionless as he stared up at the tops of the trees. As he raised his head, leaves and loose twigs clung to his hair. His shocked expression was hilarious.

Her throat contracted and her lungs expelled breath. It had been so long since she'd laughed. In fact, she hadn't tried to since the incident. She continued for a few seconds before catching herself, one gentle hand pressed to her suddenly shut mouth. The joy sank slowly, back into the deepest recesses of her head. In order to distract herself from the sorrow, she picked up her harp and knelt beside him. She tilted the underside to him, revealing her full name.

This day. This day was possibly the most mistake-ridden one he'd had in the history of his life. Follow a woman out into the woods, in the middle of the night, and look like an ill-mannered clod? Check. Proceed to interrupt her music and nearly make her cry? Check. Be knocked about by a magical instrument? Oh yes. He would have to have his head checked after this... Maybe he needed sleep more than he thought he did.

"Urgh..." Noah saw her making the motions of laughter, but... no sounds. He shook his head. Had that blast rendered him deaf? No... he could still hear the sounds of the crickets and the light breeze. So that meant...

"You can't... speak?" her silence and the fact that she seemed gravely distressed by the lack of laughter that passed her lips would certainly attest to that. She showed him the other name inscribed on the harp. He read it as he brushed the debris out of his hair. Hannah. "Hannah Ivalyn. This... doesn't seem natural." He was quite certain that the time he'd seen her, she had not been mute...

Never before had she wanted to tell someone her past so much. Hannah suddenly felt very helpless: a slave to the curse that had befallen her. She nodded in response to the utterance of her name, and again at his exclamation of her ailment. She lightly drummed her fingers along the intricate wooden frame of her instrument, her mind ticking. How could she possibly show him what had happened? When her manager had inquired the very same thing, she had been too shocked to even try to explain. She had never been taught how to write either, only read to a basic level.

There was only one way she could hope to tell this man her woes. He was the most sincere person she had come across in a long time: she didn't want to let him down. She stood again, turning towards the nearest clearing. Deliberately, she navigated through the trees, stopping only once to see if he was following before she reached the edge of the small wooded area.

Noah did not follow immediately; he thought perhaps he may have been probing too deeply and that she was leaving, but she turned to wait for him, so follow he did. As he weaved between the trees his mind turned once again to what a strange day this was. It was almost surreal to be exploring the forest in such a way.

When they did reach their apparent destination, the tactician looked around quizzically. It didn't seem terribly special, so why had they come here? Actually, going further than that, why had she bid him to follow in the first place?

Out in the open now, Hannah could move her feet without fear of snagging roots or stray branches. The low patches of wild grass swayed in the gentle breeze, also having the same effect on the girl's hair, which she soon brushed behind her ears. She took one glance at the crescent moon, nestled between patches of light clouds, their edges illuminated silver. It was calming. She took several steps until she was truly out in the open before turning to face the man's inquisitive gaze. His features were dyed pale in the moonlight, but the hue of his eyes were still prominent.

Hannah took up a long forgotten pose, her heels pressed together with her toes pointing out. She held her fabled instrument to her left, pulling her right arm across her body, her itching fingers floating near the sentient strings. With three slight nods, she began her piece. As she began playing, Hannah withheld her magic, letting her performance be a true ode to her old self. The high notes rang out across the plain, melding seamlessly with the following note as her expert fingers glided across the strings.

With a sweeping gesture, she played the entirety of the scale, igniting the magic within herself. The strings glowed a bright blue, the magic peeling away from the harp to float lazily in the air around its creator. Soon the slivers of magic weaved around Hannah, tracing her body, her hair, her frantic fingers. She averted her gaze from her harp, the melody unfaltering as she looked at the man. She continued playing, watching his reaction as she slowed the rhythm, lowered the tones. The magic surrounding her reacted, becoming more still, but remaining aloft in the night air. As the music became slower still, Hannah directed the magic towards her throat, the slivers gathering into a bright glow around it.

With a dramatic strike from both of her hands, her harp played an ear-shaking note that rang out harshly. The instrument hovered for a moment, falling to the ground as the note was carried off into silence. The glow around her throat burst, flying off in all directions, slivers once more. Hannah let her arms drop to her sides, the air around her now still, devoid of music and magic. She blinked twice, then let her gaze drop to her harp, lifeless at her feet.

Noah stared as the music gave birth to magic. It was... mesmerizing, somehow. Little runes and other glowing bits of magic floated and drifted on the wind like bubbles in a sea of pale light, and the music gave it a feeling of a true performance, as though Hannah were creating her own glowing little dancers to complement her beat.

But he felt less enraptured when the glow surrounded her neck. Now it seemed more akin to a leash, or some form of predator than a performer. And the ending... the ending was a single sharp note with the shine scattering in a dozen different directions. He wasn't certain he understood her entire tale from a few bars of music, but he felt he had the gist of how she lost her voice.

"Some form of... magic, then?"

Hannah nodded mournfully, kneeling to pick up her harp, the strings still shimmering with latent magic. She strapped the instrument to her belt, feeling more peaceful now that she had vented her woes, and glad that the man had understood. Of course that was the other issue with being unable to speak: she herself could not ask questions. Hannah walked up to the brown-haired gentleman, who was only slightly taller than she was.

She pointed in his general direction. Even though she wouldn't be able to call him by his name, Hannah would feel more comfortable around him once she knew. The night breeze sent a shudder through Hannah as she awaited his answer: she had been out here for quite some time.

Noah gave her a quizzical glance for a moment when she pointed at him. "Hm? Oh..." he realized that despite all his questions he had not answered any of the ones she must have had, and had not even introduced himself. He suddenly felt very foolish and looked away.

"I... my name is Noah. Noah Garod. I'm sorry for not telling you so earlier."

He did note her reaction to the cold, though. In response, he slipped off his robe to offer to her. He still had a vest and shirt anyway... "Here. ...We should probably go soon."

As the wind blew around them, he let out a breath of his own. He was taking a lot of odd actions today... "But... it must be inconvenient, not being able to speak... can you still read? And write?" He knew she still had her name engraved on the harp, but that could've been commissioned, especially as she had held some renown before vanishing.

Hannah nodded in gentle acknowledgement of his name. She allowed him to slip his robe around her shoulders, taking comfort from the body-warmed thread that settled against her. As they began their walk back, this time avoiding the tricky route through the patch of woodland, Hannah held a hand to her hair, blowing wildly in Noah's direction. The winds were always more violent on the plains. To his question, Hannah could only shake her head. She knew how to read to a basic level, but never had she been able to craft letters, much less words with a writing implement. Her intrinsic mastery of music meant she could draw notes, which she presumed were similar to letters...

Although he tried to conceal it, she noticed his shock at her inability. She didn't try as hard to conceal her own reaction, as she lowered her head to the swaying grass that swallowed her boots as they moved through the plains. Of course, she realised being able to write would have made her condition much easier to deal with, but motivation was difficult to come across nowadays. Slowly but surely, the village gates rose before them.

So she couldn't write...? That limited her options for communication drastically. It was little wonder, then, that she would take such morose actions to convey her thoughts. Still... Noah felt it would be frightfully cold of him to leave her in such a state.

Now the question was, what would he do about it...? He'd planned on being here for a little while, that much was true, but... the tactician hadn't the foggiest idea how to teach someone.

They passed the gates and approached the inn, torchlight flowing from every window. Their glow cast long shadows against the wall as they walked without a word. When they stood in front of the inn door, Noah finally spoke.

"Don't worry about the coat. I'll come out to the lobby tomorrow to retrieve it," he said quietly, before retiring to his room. It had been a long time since he'd first started learning under the tutelage of his adoptive father; he scarcely remembered how he learned to read or write. So, tonight, he would use his time to draft plans and lessons. He wondered how he would do this... she'd need to begin with letters, he reasoned. He continued in this manner, thinking, double-checking himself and occasionally scrapping the entire thing as the candle slowly grew ever shorter and the shadows danced along the wall.

When the young man finally slept, the figures permeated his dreams.

Hannah wanted to protest about the robe: perhaps Noah had somewhere to be tomorrow? Well, clearly not, she thought as he ascended the stairs, heading to his room. The musician stood alone in the foyer, dimly aware of the innkeeper collecting empty tankards from the surrounding tables. She ran her hand absently along the worn, well-loved fabric of the robe. It had been a while since she had been treated with such kindness. The weight of the world feeling slightly lighter, Hannah gave a resolute nod to the innkeeper as she retreated to her room.

The first thing she did was carefully hang Noah's robe on a hook fixed to the back of the door. The warmth gradually left her shoulders like a lingering touch. Once her harp and clothes were atop a simple trunk at the foot of the bed, Hannah crawled in, quickly falling into a fitful sleep. Often she had dreams of being able to speak. Although they were sweet and joyful, they always felt like nightmares upon waking.

Morning rolled around fairly quickly. Hannah was usually a slow riser: she never had anywhere to be. Today was different, though. She even ran a comb through her long blonde hair after she dressed. As she left, Hannah folded Noah's robe over her arm, soon finding herself in the foyer of the inn. She wasn't sure what time it was, but there were already several men occupying the tables: barmaids attending their drinking needs with flirtatious comments and wiggles of their hips. That too was something that had become long forgotten to Hannah. When she performed, she picked up a few sultry steps to captivate the males in her audience.

Clearly trying to find someone, and no match for the provocative barmaids and their low cut tops, Hannah stood in the middle of the foyer like a little girl searching for her parents.

Noah awoke with sunbeams caressing his face. When his eyes slowly opened, he looked out the window and found that the sun was farther along on its journey across the sky than he'd intended. He rose with a start and looked around wildly to see which plans he'd finally settled on. However, scattered scribblings lay all about his room, and he grumbled something before finally deciding he'd rely on his memory. After a hasty morning ritual, the tactician snatched up a notebook and pen and left.

When he saw the main lobby he immediately regretted that he'd chosen this place for a meeting. He didn't think it was too terribly early, but already there were people out and about, barmaids sashaying this way and that, making it rather difficult to traverse the floor. One girl, however, stood out a bit in the middle of the lobby, looking somewhat lost.

Noah called out to her. "Hannah! Over here!"