RP:The Lyre and The Flute

Alvina moved slowly along the well-beaten dirt trail, the soft white gleam of her boots kicking up tiny clouds of dust with each deliberate step she took toward Larket. It had been many moons since she saw fit to walk this path, or any path, that she might have wandered in her life before. The years had passed with many memories; some striking in their brilliance and beauty while others drifted in the murky but painful depths she dared not recall. Outwardly, any fellow traveler might take her for just an ordinary woman. She cared just a small pack with her, slung over one shoulder beneath a cloak as deep and blue as a midnight sky. Tresses of her autumn curls bounced with every foot fall, dancing to the beat of her home coming. The bard had yet to find a familiar face on her travels…but then Hollow had not been under her feet for more than a nightfall or more. She smiled, a thin but joyous smile, and inhaled the familiar scent of the woods that marked the land between Kelay and Larket. A bold reminder of the expanse of time. There was always something between now and then, she thought, taking another step towards her destination.

Naeaftas trudged along the road, lyre in hand. He was on his way back to Kelay, and travel went much more pleasantly with a little music. The old paladin sang along as he played the instrument, weaving a tune in Feline. It wasn't often that he would meet someone while on the road, and even less often that he was able to sing for them. Most folks were on their way somewhere, or wouldn't care to talk. The catfolk was a social creature, when he was permitted to be, and he relished any chance to find out whether he'd make a new friend, or encounter a new rival.

Alvina’s ears perked at the sound of music ahead of her on the road. The faint smile that had been painted previously sprung to life and bloomed into her cheeks. For what could lighten the heart of a bard more than music? Excitedly, she picked up her pace to reach the instrument and it’s strummer, hopeful that they would both be willing to share a bit of time. Friendly faces and lovely tunes were not things she was accustomed to find on the road, and the surprise of both sent her hopes soaring. She couldn’t help but think that she was suppose to be here, at this exact moment in time, which brought its own comfort. A sudden spark filled the human, bidding her halt to rummage through her bag to retrieve her favored instrument; one very love-worn silver flute. A click and snap later it became functional and she drew it to her lips as she continued forward to the warm sound of the lyre as it grew. A figure made it’s way towards her, and all the while she pressed keys to mimic his sound, her smile far from fading.

As the sweet sound of a flute began to float toward him, Naeaftas realized that he would not only have an audience, but a participating one at that. Getting closer to the woman playing the instrument, the gray-furred catfolk paid close attention to how well she kept up with him. Perhaps she wanted to play, and the shaggy paladin was nothing, if not playful. He increased his tempo slightly, making the tune more intricate and changing the words. Feline was unable to be translated to most other languages, but the tone would more than likely carry over just fine; it bore the theme of racing around one another, as kittens might do. If the human could keep up, he'd continue to challenge her, as one should do for a companion with similar skills.

Alvina met his challenge willingly. At first, her fingers stumbled over the unfamiliar melody, urging her prosthetic birth given digits to keep pace. Even though she didn’t understand the lyrics, a wild sense of playful antics threaded through the distance between them until they eye to eye. Emerald lights danced through smiling lids and she was in the game now! Under normal circumstances she might have nodded or smiled, perhaps eve n offered a smooth wave as they passed each other…but the instruments gave no pause for conversation or pleasantries. The flute alone would not allow her to do anything else but play. A few times she faltered, rushing the pace or misjudging the melody…but there were moment in the tune where she met her mark and even flourished for the sheer joy of their harmony. She would jump octaves above or below, depending on how the tune struck her. Instead of pausing at the intersection where they met, she would spin and twirl with melody. It was all she could do to keep from dancing her breath away. The intoxication of a kindred musician was beyond compare.

As the unnamed woman kept pace with his song, Naeaftas began to change how he was playing. If his partner would flourish her tune to compliment his, he would make his playing compatible, simplifying the strumming of the lyre just enough to leave room for the flute's harmonies. As they met, the old catfolk began to circle her, rather than simply pass by. She looked like she wanted to dance (and Naeaftas would have gladly done so, for dancing could be as playful as singing), and so he would oblige in what small way he could, turning around her as the lyrics shifted from Feline to Elvish, gaining meaning as the song became a proper duet. The aged paladin sang of the joys of fellowship, the beauty of a song, and an occasional line slipped in describing the lovely woman playing the flute. His own green eyes lit up behind the shaggy mop of gray hair as his short-fingered hands flew over the strings of the lyre. Perhaps it was foolishness to think that he could outplay a bard, but what was a game without the challenge? Besides, such harmonies as this were of the utmost splendor on any world.

The familiar Elvish phonics struck a merry chord in the woman’s heart, the song switching from beautiful melody to wonderful composition. The lyrics brought their own burst of energy; she was torn between listening to the melody to keep pace and listening to the lyrics to enjoy the feline’s construct. It would take the multi-tasking bard a few moments to discover the few lines slipped in here and there were her description. Though she had not seen a mirror in ages, she still knew her appearance to be the same. She blushed; flatter and fatigue were catching up with her. Ribbons of autumn’s own brilliance would tumble down her shoulders as she slowed to a gentle sway beside him. The beauty of the moment was not lost on her. Two strangers, not a word yet passed between them, weaving together a companionship through invisible notes in the air. Finally, her breath failed her, and her notes fell softly into a whisper before fading to al niente. Softly panting from overexertion of physical energy, the bard still smiled at the man before her, listening to his strumming until time passed enough for it to cease. She hoped he would pause a moment though her contribution had ended.

Taking careful note of his companion's fading addition, Naeaftas slowed his part of the song, ending with a line that praised the "song of the Lady of Fallen Leaves", which was accompanied by a slow flourish of notes going down the octave, hopefully creating a tumbling sound that would both match the lyrics and the sight caught in the catfolk's eye of the woman's cascading hair as she swayed. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the holy elder turned his head to look into the woman's eyes. "You are a truly gifted musician, my Lady," he said finally, smiling back at the lovely bard who he was sure could use a rest. "Shall I set out the blanket I have, so that you may have a seat? I apologize for taxing you so heavily."

Laughter spilled out of the bard like a song. Her lips curled to allow the laughter a better escape, the sound rang clear, like the chiming of small silver bells. Or perhaps that was caused by her many silver bracelets or the reverberation of the sound along the surface of her metallic prosthetic. No matter how it came to be, the sounds faded simultaneously, still leaving a smile in its stead. Delicate but cautious eyes took a moment to look him over. Finally, she found breath to speak. “Lady of Fallen Leaves.” The woman repeated his lyric back to him fondly. “Or Alvina, for short.” Her right arm extended to meet his hand in a friendly shake (it would be her flesh covered arm, while her other remained at her side). It was always bad form to meet someone that you could not really make a physical connection with. His compliment flushed her cheeks further. “It is only because I have had a very long time to learn it.” She stated, matter-of-factly. “It is never more valuable than when it’s matched by someone’s quick wit or fingers.” The last bit was accompanied by a shy wink before the bard started to fold her dress against her legs in preparation to take a seat next to him on the blanket he offered. “Can you spare the time?” She queried, cocking her head to the side, still beaming.

Naeaftas took Alvina's hand, shaking as per the custom and squeezing gently. "Alvina, aye," he responded quietly, as if testing the name. "I am Naeaftas of the Vanderklau." Reaching into his pack, the paladin produced the aforementioned blanket, spreading it neatly upon the ground and gesturing for the autumn-haired bard to sit down. "Ladies first," he said politely, winking back at Alvina. To answer her question, he replied, "I'd spare a thousand years, so I would."

Alvina chuckled and took her seat lightly on the blanket, folding her legs neatly underneath her small frame, the edges of her cloak resting lazily in the grass behind her. “Naeaftas,” She nodded, trying the name on her tongue and finding it sweet, almost refreshing. “Where are you bound, if that’s not too forward a question?” Her emerald optics sparkled as they caught flecks of sunlight that snuck through the leaves of the trees above, drawing attention from the slight blush that crept to her cheeks. Music would bring out her heart, and she would dance and sing with all the spirits of a girl without reserve but truly she had a soft heart and a shy disposition. She might now have found words to greet the stranger had they just passed each other on the road.

Naeaftas was distracted for a moment as the dappled sunlight cast its magic on Alvina's brilliant emerald eyes. He sat beside her, his armor not giving much opportunity for an elegant pose, but the paladin clad in silvery blue tried his best to match the dignity of his companion. "It is not too forward at all, Lady Alvina," the servant of the Cat Lord spoke kindly. "Yet, 'forward' is just the right word for the answer. As a cat, I am bound by the wishes of whimsy. I may, if it please you, accompany you to your destination." From his pack, Naeaftas brought forth two packages wrapped in paper. Their contents would smell of dried meat and fruit, of crackers and nuts. "Would thee care for a humble repast?" The slipping of speech was a common trait for the wandering knight; one did not go to as many worlds as he and speak in the same way for eighty years straight, after all.

Alvina beamed at his answer, as if it was just what she had been hoping to hear. “It must have been some divine fate to bring us together!” her voice cracked excitably. She still had the demeanor of a youth freshly blossomed into adulthood and those little quirks reappeared once in a great while to remind her of her everlasting age. The joy of her new companion was too great to be dampened by the past. Upon first glance, she would appear a young woman…but that ideal would fade with time, for no youth held their frame with such grace or ease, or spoke with so colorful a palate of words. “I would be honored to have your company if you can spare it! I’m Larket-bound. I’ve been away from my post for far too long and it seems that I have to reclaim the spot I once held here.” The sound of his hands on the packages of food would have made her ears twice, had she been feline. The way it drew her attention was almost embarrassing. She couldn't recall the last time she’d eaten. “You continue to honor me, sir.” Her head dipped into a short bow of thanks, allowing threads of her fiery locks to create a thin veil to hide her face behind.

"Honor the honorable," explained Naeaftas brightly. "and be honored to do so." As he said this, one of the packages was delivered into Alvina's hands. The feline had noticed her reaction to their sound, and found it charming, to put it simply. Being one who had lived for a great deal of time, the holy warrior could determine the signs of another aged individual, even if she appeared quite young. "If it would be your wish, I would gladly follow you to Larket, then. Aye, even to help you reclaim this post of yours." A bit more digging in the paladin's pack would produce two small bottles of mead. One was, of course, set beside the lady bard as a drink offering. "I would listen, if you'd tell of what you do there."

"More along the lines of what I use to do there," she smiled as she spoke, even though a sadness fringed her explanation. "I was one the post master in Larket, before Lady Jacklin disappeared. I was also a theater manager in Rynvale for a time but of all the region's of this land, I think I prefer the simple beauty and peaceful forests of Larket still. That is to say nothing of what it might be now." Her eyes lifted curiously to examine the man's face as she spoke. "Do you carry any news from Larket with you? Did you pass through on your way forward?" A smile crept into place of her concerned features as she awaited his reply. Unraveling the package he handed her, she brought a few dried bits to her lips. He was clad in very heavy armor but wore an even more noticeably sunny disposition. It was a refreshing change of pace from the warriors she had previously known.

"Alas, my dear, I do not," answered Naeaftas, fishing a bit of meat from his own package. The lady bard would find a predominantly cat-like face upon examination; gray fur covering the surface of the paladin's skin, with feline nose and eyes (the eyes being a matching shade of emerald to his companion's). Ears poked out from holes in his helmet, nestled into slits in the faceplate that kept it up when desired. "Postmaster, aye?" he asked as a follow-up. "And a theater director! Those certainly are more dutiful positions than mine. Long gone are the days of my purpose, though I do answer to the calling of a mentor." Naeaftas took his bottle of mead, twisting it open with expert hands and sipping from it. "As a servant of the Cat Lord, I am a wanderer by nature. I go wherever the wind carries me, staying in shape and helping others along the way. Of course, sometimes the wind blows in the path of lovely companions such as thyself."

"They were mostly titles only...from friendships or obligations or debts owed..." Even though she tried to dismiss them as minor, it was clear they really had really meant something to her. Alvina looked him over carefully, making note of the ear holes in his helmet and chuckling a little. Not to make fun, but just because she thought it was rather adorable. She wouldn't dare say so. Nodding where applicable, the bard nibbled a few nuts from the container on her knees and listened all the while. The mead was left untouched for the time being, she didn't find herself drinking much of anything of the sort normally. Instead, to do her best to avoid offense, she slide out her own flash full of fresh water. "Cat Lord?" She said suddenly, smiling at his compliment once more. "Where did you find yourself before this?"

Furry gray ears flicked when Naeaftas spotted the focus of Alvina's attention. He made a mental note of how she downplayed her role in Larket, and was reminded of Apolline when he heard the soft chuckle pass from the bard. Her almost-mystical combination of a childish heart and time-worn mind was distinctively similar to that of the golden-haired half-elf, who had hesitated to treat the old paladin as a cat, even when he had been one. Naeaftas thought that perhaps he might have to assume the shape of the housecat again, for Alvina's benefit, for it often elicited very pleasant responses from people. "Aye, the Cat Lord!" he answered at her question, giving off a small sound like that of an excited kitten. It was not very often that he was given the opportunity to speak the praises of his deity, after all! "She bears dominion over all felines, no matter the plane, and blesses the way of the traveler." Emerald hues then darkened as the autumn-haired lady spoke her next query. It took perhaps a full minute for Naeaftas to respond. "I... recently found myself on a world where the entire population had become insane. All sense of reason had gone from them, and I was forced to harm innocent lives in order to escape."

The bard furrowed her brow carefully, concentrating on keeping her lips from too deep a frown that might cause her companion concern. "I did not know," she said, apologetically. It felt thin to say she was sorry, for how could she be sorry for something she did not know about. Instead, she leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his armored shoulder and offered a consolation smile. "I am glad you did not lose your way." Her voice lightened, affection filled and gracious. It was as if she was boldly saying she was taken by him already and couldn't have continued the path without him. Her smile continued as she thought aloud, " you never know who you can not live without until you meet them."

Green eyes brightened as Naeaftas saw the bard's mood lighten. The aged paladin always feared that his tales of desolation would bring those around him down, and it did his old heart good to see Alvina persist in her sunny nature. As the autumn-haired woman's hand touched his shoulder, the catfolk's own short-fingered hand reached out; a quick, yet gentle motion, taking the bard's free hand. She was shy, like most folks Naeaftas had met, but it would soon come as no surprise that he was outwardly personal and affectionate, wasting no time in getting close to others when he found their company suitable. "Aye," said he, as a quiet response to the flyaway thought. "A lesson well-learned by those who live on borrowed time. Verily, I once met a man who did not know he could die, until he met the woman in whose hands he found he could place his life." This was one of the happier tales in the tome the holy knight could surely scribe, and one that he felt paralleled his own life, in a way.

Alvina immediately perked at the mention of a romantic tale. “Please, do share your story with me?” She both asked and almost insisted with a brighter smile. “I should delight in the happiness shared between two people who stay by one another’s side.” Her overzealous reaction and statement might lead any present to believe she had not been so lucky with this side of love. The bard’s optics shifted to the ground for a moment as she guiltily thought of a past occasion when love did not return as it swore it would; all the while the warmth from the feline’s digits on her own brought her back to the moment, to the story, to his side. Replacing shadows of the past with the bright unexpected sun light of the future, the bard nudged him with her shoulder and squeezed his hand shyly, ribbons of blush painting her cheeks to enhance her already pale skin and freckled nose.

At her urging, Naeaftas cleared his throat, using his free hand to sip at his bottle of mead. It was best to wet one's whistle before telling a tale; old Ballen had taught him that much (not that one with as many years as the paladin needed such a lesson). It was all the catfolk could do not to nuzzle the blushing face of the bard as she squeezed his hand; he could not tell just how old this woman was, but it seemed as though the people of Hollow had a way of making the gray-furred knight feel as though he was a kitten again, frolicking in the Vanderklau village. "But of course, my dear," answered Naeaftas, removing his helmet and placing it at his side as he sat close to Alvina. "It was many years ago, on a world that was a bit like this one..." Many of the fantastic tales of the Cat Lord's servant began in a similar way, and this story was no different. Naeaftas told Alvina about how he had met a man who had become immortal; the effect of a gypsy's spell which was cast at her ire for his disregard for the sacred gift of life. With a mystical tone, the catfolk employed the voice of the wandering witch: "If life taken for granted be, then eternity shall be a bane to thee!" The man had lived for hundreds of years, growing bored of life and having no way to end it. He had tried to make merry, to love, and even to lord his "gift" over those whom he deemed to be less than himself. Upon discovery by Naeaftas, the man had become a depressed husk, unsure and uncaring of how to stop the curse. As the paladin looked on, the man found a woman who he adored more than any other, but she would not have him, turning her nose to him as he had done to so many others before the gypsy's spell. It had taken some thought, but Naeaftas found the solution: the hero would play the villain, and he would turn on the two, attacking savagely (or so they thought). When the woman cried out in terror, the man jumped in the way of the warrior's hammer, finally understanding that one cannot understand the value of life until it has been given for another. He had been ready to die for his love, and his change of heart broke the seal. The woman, so moved by her suitor's bravery, gave him her hand in marriage, and the last sight before the paladin was their wedding kiss, after which he was swept away by the Cat Lord to visit another world.

Alvina gasped and sighed at all the right points in the story, flinching from the witch’s voice and swooning at the thought of a wedding’s day kiss….but the most subtle reaction would come at the whisper of the man’s condition. “Immortal.” She echoed, quite taken. Oh yes, she knew that well. Immediately after, she was completely invested in the lively hood of the man she never had and never would meet. As the paladin listed each feeling that plagued the man because of his curse, she nodded with easy understanding. The stories conclusion was met with a soft sigh to signal the contentment she felt at the journey’s end. For the smallest moment, her heart hovered over the possibility of breaking curses and finding one’s true love before she smiled thankfully back at the Feline beside her. “I’m nearly breathless with joy, how romantic!” Her exclamation was followed by a bright shot of laughter, shaking her shoulders and sending stray strands of Autumn’s kiss tumbling against her face in the intertwining shadows and sunlight. Clearing her throat for a strange question, the bard queried; “Does your Lord allow you to marry? Do you believe you will ever find that kind of love?”

Sharp feline ears did not miss much, even while their owner spoke with such involvement. The whispered word was picked up by those ears, registering their tone and alerting Naeaftas that this story hit a little closer to home than he had initially realized. While the tale was told, the short-fingered hand which grasped that of the bard had entwined its fingers with hers, an action which the catfolk would swear was unconscious, and that would be more than half-true. At Alvina's exaltation of the story, the paladin's shaggy gray head bowed politely in thanks, and emerald hues turned to meet those of his companion as she asked the question; that one question, the answer for which Naeaftas still waited. "Aye, she does," he said, in response to the first part. "If she did not, I would likely not have been born, for my village worshipped her devoutly... or perhaps, worships." The change in words was not very subtle; the old feline had no reason to hide that he believed his people abandoned him, that they still traveled through Alara, heedless of his family's absence. "As for finding true love..." he continued with a sigh. "I am not sure. Mayhap I have found it already, and I am still chasing it like a kitten pounces after a landed fish. Mayhap I chase rightfully, though I believe I have found it." A gentle squeeze of the bard's hand played the rest between this statement and the next. "It is something with which I am too unfamiliar to know for certain."

It was rare to find something in this world that did not make the bard’s face catch flame if attention found her, unless she was singing or acting out in a fashion that was expressly for such attention. It seemed years since she’d held a hand or felt the flutter of her heartbeat without a muffled broken echo in her chest. Instead, all those hardships seemed necessary and important to prompt her here. Smiling, blush still painting her pale features; she raised the feline’s hand in her grasp to touch her lips briefly as a kind, wordless thank you or perhaps even confirmation that she too shared an unfamiliar feeling coursing her veins. The forest wrapped them up, silently protecting them from war or the eventual heartbreak or misstep that the world would not so kindly dismiss. The silence filled her ears and drew her eyes to the sky line. “Do you wish to continue with me, truly?” She asked quietly, quite certain she already knew his answer but still she must ask. “I cannot promise it to be eventful or even dangerous. I do not know if that is what your Lord has in store for you…but all these things do nothing to lessen my request and hope that you will agree.” Releasing his hand, she would stand and brush the dirt of the edges of her gown and cloak, trying to look busy while giving him all the time he might need to think over his answer.

Naeaftas stood, almost in unison with Alvina's movements. It was more work to remain standing when one could sit, and so he felt it chivalrous to relax only when the bard did. The catfolk stood at only five feet, and so had to look up just slightly to gaze into the matching emerald pools of his companion. "Aye, truly," said he, standing directly before the autumn-haired woman, armor catching the dappled sunlight with something of a bluish sparkle. "The Cat Lord cares not whether there is danger, of if a journey is eventful. She cares only that there is a journey." In a show of respect, the paladin dropped to one knee, taking Alvina's hands in his own and bowing his head, causing shaggy locks of gray to obscure his feline face. "I shall accompany you, to aid you in fulfilling your goals; a knight, sworn to protect his Autumn Lady." Head and hands were unarmored, an unexpected yet fitting part of the gesture, showing that Naeaftas would not guard himself against Alvina, for truly, he felt that he could trust her with his life.

Alvina smiled and leaned down to embrace him fully. She was only a few inches taller than he, and gravity was more than happy to oblige bringing her short form a little closer to the ground. The weight of her frame might be enough to make him unsteady in his stance, or perhaps it might not. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath likely grazing his neck or face, depending on how he caught her when she settled against him. The sheen of his armor and warmth of his being was comforting. It was almost like coming home after so long you’d forgotten just what home was…

It surprised Naeaftas a bit, having Alvina fall to his level to be in his arms. Before, she seemed to have been so careful about keeping the dirt from her garments, but the paladin knew full well how particularity could be overcome by emotion. And so, he held her, short fingers stroking autumn strands as he began to understand just what his promise meant to the bard. Her words brushed the catfolk's neck, her head resting on what was surely a less-than-comfortable shoulder, given its coating of adamantine. Naeaftas listened to those two simple words, realizing that nothing he could say would properly fit the scenario, and so opting only to hold Alvina a bit more tightly, swaying just a little. Whether it was to preserve the soothing nature of the embrace, or because the holy knight was supporting someone (who, if all armor and armament were to be null and void, would weigh more than he) while balanced on one knee, it would seem uncertain. Truth be told, not even the feline himself knew exactly which was more relevant.

Alvina allowed herself to float there in his arms for a time. With a knife to her throat she couldn’t have forged a guess at how long that time was by the sun or the trees surrounding. Finally she blinked her sea foam pools of sight and straightened herself to a respectable level and physical distance. Mildly embarrassed by her brash reaction, the palms of her hands lifted to softly rub her cheeks, as if to erase the blush that blossomed there. Her optics found the ground and settled there with a lacing of guilt. The bard wanted to mount an apology but words failed her. Loneliness has a way of sinking so deep into the skin that we forget what it’s like to be without it; that we might break down into a stranger’s arms if only they would hold us a while. “I…” her lips failed her, stuttering syllables that never fully formed. Eventually, she drew and a deep breathe and found success in actual speech. “I had a husband once…” Her confession fell fluid off her tongue, so quickly it surprised her. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “ I mean to say….” Finally, she shrugged and laughed, flailing her arms around (looking a bit silly). “Thank you. Thank you is what I mean.” And just like that, Alvina seemed to dodge out of her own awkward bubble and return to herself again.

Emerald hues became dull and pensive, focusing patiently upon Alvina as she tried to tell Naeaftas something. At the mention of her past marriage, he nodded; a solemn and somber gesture of simple understanding, for he had loved and lost before. Vividly, he remembered his friends from Alara: Cyrille, Daraukh, and Snapper, who had been his teammates. Aerith, who had been his first love. In remembrance, and in solidarity, the catfolk nodded. When the bard's demeanor changed, Naeaftas again understood. Sometimes, it was easiest to leave things unsaid. As she flailed her arms in a delightfully silly manner, the gray-furred knight smiled at her, offering a playful wink before responding to her thanks. "Often times, my dear, it is those who thank others that are deserving of being shown gratitude." The warrior clad in blue raised himself up to his full (yet unimpressive) height, eyes brightening with the mood.

Alvina bowed, the gesture purposely lacking grace and causing her to wobble a bit. "We were engaged to be married..." When was the last time she dared speak about this? Her hand was held out for his examination, the ring's tan still on her skin but the thing itself was no longer present. "He went off to raise money for our wedding...but when he returned, he claimed he fell in love with another woman." Her smile was fierce and unshackable. It was obvious she'd had a lot of time to process this, but bitterness tinged the edges, just barely. "I waited for six years in the home we were suppose to share..." A sigh of relief and she seemed well. "It's strange how things like love can slow or push time. I hope our adventures will linger a bit longer." Her smile brightened in the light of the future they might share, down the dirt road to Larket and where ever the winds may lead them. "I can't pay you much, yet, and I can't tell you what I hope to accomplish fully by taking this path...but I couldn't be happier that it will be with you by my side." Her body folded gracefully then, into a proper bow, skirt extended by delicate digits in silent appreciation. Righting herself, the bard cocked her head to the side and finally asked a question she'd been mulling on since they stumbled into each other's path. "Do you play any other instruments?"

Naeaftas listened to Alvina's short tale, making a note of how the woman's inner strength become nigh-tangible as she met her past tragedy with a bold smile. Upon the offering of the bard's hand, green eyes flitted over it, and short fingers caressed the phantom image the ring had left behind. It was a concise movement, lingering only for a moment. At the mention of payment, Naeaftas shook his shaggy head vehemently, but he withheld comment until the Autumn Lady had finished her piece. At her question, the paladin looked down, clearly a little disappointed. "I'm afraid not," he said, not too glibly. "I learned to play the lyre very early in my life, and it became a saving grace for me in my time wandering through the wilderness." This minute glibness faded, and the catfolk made quick work of gathering up his blanket before standing beside Alvina, placing an arm brazenly about her waist, as if to say without words that it was possible for the two to one day be as though they were joined at the hip. "As for pay, you have delighted me by playing alongside me. I could never ask for money from one whom I hold dear. To do so would dishonor my oath, my dear."

"Then let us play," She said simply, retrieving her flute from her satchel to ready at her lips. So many words had passed between them in the brief intermission of their afternoon that it seems best now to glaze over the past to writing a better future. It wouldn't matter the things that were to come, because they had this moment. This moment was what she wanted to remember about today. About Naeaftas, her knight is brilliant blue armor. Even if he did not wish to play, she would play for him, trilling notes in a blazing crescendo of multiple octaves. The flute sounding like a thousand tinkling bells mixed with the quieter clang of her multiple bracelets and the soft muffled sound of cloth caught in the wind as she began to move forward. Love was tricky, as was the future, but both seemed to be looking up behind those shining emerald eyes.