Heron and Peacock

A driving wind blows across the ground, carrying the sound of music. Light, but insistent. Dark clouds have gathered in the sky, keeping the world beneath them shrouded in darkness. Yet the music is not muffled by wind nor by cloud. It is instead carried aloft by the breeze as if the player is aware of it. Intended for it. It is the sound of a unique kind of harp for those that know of such things, a melody strung out across gentle strings, and the occasional metal-wood tap-strum to accompany it. The resulting music is a heady rush of welcome.

It is a music set to make the feet walk. Music that is of a joyous welcome home, and in its carrying it is easy enough to follow back to the warm gardens that give it birth. Though of course the garden themselves are not the precise origin, but merely a part of it. The true origin of the music is an elf sitting among the boughs of a tree. The tree in question has offered its shade and its comfort to the musician beneath it. Wrapping about the slender form and almost completely hiding it from view.

At first and even second glance it is quite possible to miss the musician, and at third and fourth nearly impossible to determine gender. Even for an elf the creator of the music singing out from the tree is androgynous. Long blue hair wraps around the elfs form, turning lighter and lighter blue until it spills into whiteness. Mimicking snow that might be found elsewhere. Robes of blue and white encase the musician's form, further obscuring it. But the lap-harp laying across the knees is of extraordinary make, and the music born from it is something to render even those apt with words utterly speechless.

There's something to be said for beauty, if nearly all of the works of art in the world are to go by. This is perhaps on the mind of a certain mul'niessa bard who walks by, his form shrouded in a bright crimson cloak with a purple underlay that's revealed when the wind flutters it far enough from Zero's form. He hums quietly to himself, his steps carrying him closer to the gardens...

But then his ears catch the song, and it appears that by snagging the ears, one also catches the feet... and the rest of the peacock to go with it. "I've got to check that out," Zero murmurs to himself, and so he does.

He rounds a tree and finds the elf. His red-pink eyes catch hold first on the long wave of blue hair, and he follows it up and up and up to the elf's face. The mul'niessa man lingers there for a long moment, taking in the sound of this lap-harp and... the other form of beauty before him.

"Gorgeous," Zero murmurs. In what way? He won't say. Not yet.

The sound of one gentle murmur is enough to stir the attention of the one playing. Up lifts the elf's face and and one would not be too far to say that the features there are at least nearly as lovely as the music created from the musician's fingertips. Lavender eyes are sharpened and accentuated by sharp blue lines on the temple and forehead. Pure milky skin is traced lovingly by the dark blue hair that surrounds it. The elf smiles shyly at the one that had offered the gentle sound, and it is not immediately apparent if the word itself actually reached arched ears.

Now, the music is allowed to fade away, drifting into the warmth of being embraced by ones home at long last, and disappearing into the gardens which echo that warmth. Here one could truly imagine being at home if one chose such a thing. The lovely elvish musician lets long-fingered hands rest atop the lap-harp and demurely lowers lavender eyes in silent welcome to the other.

The lavender-eyed elf doesn't even need to speak for Zero to be transfixed. Even for a long moment after the music departs and fades only into a memory, the mul'niessa man stares at this elf like... Like the elf is a vision, and that he has simply fallen asleep mid-stride, or something he ate earlier is giving him an incredibly vivid vision. Both seem like likely stories now in the moment.

And then he seems to come alive again, remembering himself. A sharp breath is taken, followed by an energetic clap of the hands, a grin splitting Zero's face as he applauds the lavender-eyed elf. "A fine performance," he says. "Art like no other." Again, he declines to say what, specifically, is the art. "May I know the name? Of both the piece and the performer, that is."

He delivers such a sly grin as he adjusts his cloak. "I am a performer myself, you see, and I am always looking for people to... collaborate with." Is that a puff of his chest? Yes, yes it is. Perhaps to emulate the peacock he often professes to be.

Applause seems to warm the cheeks of this as yet unnamed musician, for color rises to their cheeks turning blue tattoos a fascinating purple color. Lavender eyes take in the mul'niessa before them, offering no judgment nor clue as to what the person viewing might think of what is seen. In fact, the performer waits the entirety of the peacock's querry before offering so much as a hint that there might be a forthcoming reply. Then, it is the voice that reveals something of the musician which was not apparent before.

The voice is slightly masculine, just enough to offer enough clues to reveal that the musician is likely male in nature. "Shizin Hinota." The words offered reveal slightly more. The name itself is elvish, and a given name, so likely belonging to the player of the harp. A brief pause follows this, followed by an embarrassed response. "The composition has no name."

Lavender eyes lower and yet the mul'niessa could readily read that he is still focused on the person before him. "Do you?" This is more gently asked than the words that came before. Easily ignored if one desired to ignore them.

Ignore? Ignore the words falling from the lips of this fine art before him? That appears to be the furthest from Zero's mind, as he gives a flourished bow, the cloak revealing its purple underlayer with the motion. "Indeed I do, Shizin," the bard replies. "I am called Zero. I sing, and I am a trained in performing technically demanding pieces for the piano, the harpsichord, and the organ. Alas, I never did get to pick up the harp, although I suppose I now have the time and the freedom to pursue it if I like."

He takes a few steps closer to Shizin. "I hate to interrupt, but, well, I cannot just pass by a work of art and leave it hanging in the gallery--if I were a lover of art painted on canvases, I'd be a thief many times over. Fortunately for me, I prefer the more melodic types." Again, unclear if he's referring to Shizin or Shizin's work. Or both. The peacock is casting a wide net.

The second bard smiles softly at Zero's greeting and explanation, again offering no interruption to either. He seems in fact, entirely willing to allow the other to speak for as long or as short a period as the mul'niessa is comfortable. A nod is offered to the understanding granted by Zero's information about what training has been had, and a more welcoming smile at the notion of learning to play the harp.

"You are not interrupting." This gracious turn of phrase is offered once Zero has explained the rest, and Shizin offers yet another demure invitation. This one a gesture to the side of where the elf sits; welcoming the mul'niessa to join at his side. The gentle movement is graceful and refined, but not nearly as flashy as Zero's own. "One can not steal what is given."

Even sitting is a graceful motion for Zero, a flourish of the cloak as he goes to sit by Shizin's side. "You are rather kind, Shizin; thank you for letting me sit. Being a pianist, I am, after all, more fond of sitting than standing." The grin remains on his lips.

"Tell me, darling," he purrs, using his more familiar form of address for just about anyone, "what other talents have you mastered? Are you a songbird? You strike me as a singer like myself, but maybe that's because a peacock like me notices another bird wearing such beautiful colors and thinks, 'Surely, we have so much in common!' If not, then forgive me for assuming, as you know what they say about assumers."

There's hardly a breath after that thought before Zero adds, "However, no one, not anyone at all in this world, can accuse me of being an ass. I am, for one thing, better looking than one."

The tide of things is quickly turning, and Shizin finds himself ducking his head slightly to hide his face behind the fall of blue hair. Still, even through the fall of hair one can see the smile on his lips at Zero's words. The comment about sitting rather than standing in particular. Rather than basking in the complements, they seem to embarrass Shizin, and by the time that Zero comes around to the questions, Shizin is driven practically to speechlessness.

It is a welcome thing then that Zero offers yet another humorous comment, and Shizin laughs lightly, a sound as gentle as bells. "I sing yes." This is offered gently, and then more hesitantly, "I play the violin."

This seems more admission than anything, and causes Shizin to hide more entirely behind his hair.

Zero's red-pink eyes brim with delight as Shizin tries to hide. Of course, he catches sight of that smile, and the laugh delights him even further. But it is the admission and the hiding again that make Zero grin widely at last. The peacock has found an opportunity.

"The violin? Oh yes, I can see you playing such a venerated instrument," Zero says. "With hands like yours, you must be able to make one sing with such ease. Such talent, of course--to sing not only with your own voice but the voice of stringed instruments. I have only myself and my keyed instruments, but the only one I can characterize as particularly lovely is the piano, which rings so clearly when played with a skilled hand."

Then Zero pauses. "You know," he says, "I have heard before that there are things you can determine about a person from their hands. In fact, I know a thing or two. May I see your hand?"

Embarrassment draws out as further complements are given, and Shizin is all but entirely hidden behind his hair by the time that Zero pauses. The question that comes at the very end however draws Shizin back out with if nothing else curiosity. The elf seems to consider the question for a moment, and then with a graceful lift of one hand offers it to Zero. The hand is delicately built, with long fingers and tattoos that grace the wrist. They curl from higher up on the arm which is hidden by layers of robe.

Shizin's hand is not without what some might consider flaws however. The callouses of his trade are very evident. As are the three silver rings he wears on that hand which allow him to create the unique rhythm that he had wrought earlier. Rare was the harpist who added such sounds to their music, but Shizin had done so flawlessly and worked it into the creation so neatly that it had seemed utterly natural.

Zero looks the hand up and down thoughtfully, the red-pink eyes inspecting the graceful hand. Particular attention is paid to the tattoos, of course, but he also seems to admire the fingernails set into the tips of Shizin's fingers, as well as the rings that Shizin wears.

"You are dedicated," he concludes. "There's a phrase I'm fond of, darling--'steel beneath silk'--and I have to say that's a phrase that comes to mind as I look at your fingers. However... I forgot to mention, there's another component. May I touch your hand? Nothing untoward, I assure you. I am a performer, after all, I know how to treat someone's hands better than anyone."

Shizin holds out his hand patiently, allowing it to be inspected by Zero's keen eye before simply nodding to Zero's secondary request. There's no words offered, no hesitation nor wariness in Shizin. There is a certain amount of that in the lovely elvish man in fact, a sort of innocence radiates from him. As if he simply belives in people. Or, perhaps it is simply Zero that he trusts though they have only just met?

Shizin's trust is rewarded as Zero takes the other elf's offered hand. Zero's own hand is surprisingly soft and gentle to the touch--clearly, the pianist takes good care of his hands and does not require them to work with stringed instruments as Shizin does, as his hands are completely devoid of calluses. There's not even a single hint of skin peeling around his neatly trimmed and even fingernails, perfectly shaped and filed.

"Darling," Zero purrs as his fingertips trace over Shizin's hand, "it is as I suspected. Steel beneath silk. There's a shy but earnest heart that provides blood to these veins, too." He points down to Shizin's wrist with his free hand.

But then he does the unexpected thing, and he gently puts his palm to Zero's hand, and the red-pink eyes catch onto Shizin's face, hoping to lock onto those lavender eyes again. A sly smirk on Zero's lips say the same sort of cool intent that are present in his eyes. "A quiet soul, who I hope to know more of soon--should the holder of said soul permit me to do so."

Zero is indeed rewarded as well as his words draw Shizin out from behind his fall of dark blue hair. The words are, even if they are not meant to be, rather true of Shizin. There's a trace of belief on the elf's features as he peers at the other, and the lavender eyes lock with Zero's pinkish-red ones. "You are right." The elvish man turns his head down briefly, as if unable to hold that gaze for very long, and yet Shizin is drawn back like a moth to light. "What would you know?"

"What would I know? Open-ended words such as those are so dangerous; why, you're almost /offering/ yourself up so freely and so vulnerably, you know, darling," Zero purrs again. There's delight in his red-pink eyes in addition to the playful quirk of his grinning lips; he's successfully cold-read the blue-haired man. "But for now... I want to tell you that you remind me of a heron, and I want to ask the heron if he would join me for dinner sometime soon. Somewhere quiet, so I can hear the heron's words and so that they have my /full/ attention."

He draws his palm away and replaces it quickly with the playful tap of his fingertips on Shizin's hand--replicating the rhythm of Shizin's song from earlier. Did he memorize it that quickly? "After all, a quiet one like yourself might be lost in the mist, and that would be a shame for those who enjoy the songs of herons--such as this peacock."

Shizin's eyes widen significantly at the thought, and for the first time hesitates. Yet it is a very brief hesitation. "Yes. I will join you." Lavender eyes lower, and a small smile plays across his lips and then he looks up again. "I would know you better."

This exchange of words seems to take everything out of Shizin and he draws his hands gently from Zero's. Then rises to his feet. This rising reveals that Shizin's hair is _quite_ long. Falling from his brow all the way to the ground. Yet it is without tangle or dirt. Surely magic. Shizin bows once to Zero, and then with harp in hand draws away. It seems that with the promise given, Shizin is off to find yet another place to grace his music with. Such is the nature of this... heron.

Zero watches the beautiful heron stride away with nary a knot nor a defacement of his long blue hair, sending him off with a smile and a wave. "What a lovely one," he comments to himself as Shizin walks out of earshot. "And it appears I /do/ still have my charms. Better not mess this one up if I can help it."

After a moment, he draws himself up to his full height. "Well then," he announces to no one in particular as he pulls his cloak more fully around himself in a flourished motion, "it appears this peacock... needs a new set of feathers."

And so off he goes in search of a tailor. A hot date means there's grooming to be done!

-End