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Post by Bellamy nó Eglantine on Jan 27, 2010 19:40:31 GMT -5
Something lively, hm? Well, that I could do. After all, I was known just as well for my improvisations as I was for my ballads. I began to pluck at the strings, slowly picking up speed until I found one that I liked and began to sing. It was one I had sang with Aristide. My mind was much too occupied, thinking about myself being under the needle, how quickly I teared up, to come up with something on the spot. I flashed the marquist a smile at his suggestion and offer, though with my words singing about a cat mounting a rooster, well, it wasn't like I had any words to spare.
However, that was when I heard Sandrine chime in. Something she knew? Well... I paused my singing for a bit as I began to think, allowing my fingers to change the tunes as my brain pondered. "Come on Sandrine, you know this one, we sing it all the time," I said with a grin. It was the first one I had taught her at Eglantine, at least, until she had left. It was a favorite of ours, about a jester who comes to soothe a depressed king... in more ways than one. Rumor was that was a true story. Rumor was that the jester was from Eglantine, but that was all for speculation.
I grinned at her, nudging her knee with my own as my hands were rather occupied at the moment and winked.
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Post by Avianna nó Mandrake on Jan 29, 2010 21:44:54 GMT -5
I was distracted from my pain by Sandrine and Bellamy's playful banter. They were obviously well acquainted, and that dull pain in my belly had to be jealousy. Which was ridiculous.
I was pulled away by those thoughts as the marquist dug his needle painfully into my back and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. In other circumstances I might have succumbed to showing my pain, but not now. Regardless of the fact that I hated the pain, I was determined to be stoic about it at least.
I closed my eyes, willing no tears to drip from my lashes and concentrated on Bellamy's song. It was true, it did help, having that to focus on, especially since the tale was interesting. A jester and a King ... opposites who had something to offer each other. I risked a glance at Bellamy, his handsome face lit up as he sang, his fingers moving over the strings of his mandolin with a deftness I knew intimately.
I had to keep myself from sighing aloud - I just wanted this to be done with, and to be alone with Bellamy now that my marque was made.
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