The world tilted as he bowed.
The room was packed with warm bodies dressed in splashes of colorful finery, all in motion, and he felt as much as heard their voices, the cheers flowing towards the stage like an incoming, rolling tide; roses and pink petals floated down in arcs from above.
He stood straight again, and realized that he didn't recognize the stage. There was a familiar chandelier above, a set of chairs in a completely clashing style off to one side, and timeworn, scuffed, carved-up tables in another corner, all looking familiar but not familiar together.
The voices weren't all directed towards him, either. A pair of paces before him stood a line of familiar hairstyles, blondes and reds and blacks and even a green. The people they were attached to had their backs to him, and were taking bows to the cheering, somehow insubstantial throng; the drifting petals found themselves lodged within locks, braids and tails, colors blending...
The vision, which he was certain must have once been sharp, became blurry, a smudged wash of moving, hazy hues. Only the sounds remained sharp, and as he squinted, trying to assign names or identities to splashes of color, a new sound became audible - a persistent, deep hum. The hum became louder, becoming at first reminiscent of the magitek engines he'd seen in Ishgard, but then less harsh and grating, and somehow comforting in the chaos of swirling color that the room was becoming, making him start to feel dizzy. Sprays of what must have been sparkling wines erupted from where the crowd must still be, dousing him and the band of people with him, forcing his eyes closed in reflex, but the liquid felt gritty, somehow...
... the haze of hues snapped into sharpness once more as his eyes opened again, and the air immediately felt cooler. Something still hummed in his ear and rasped wetly upon his cheek, but now it had form, and a name: Minuet. He was not standing, but reclined on his back, and the black kitten was licking at his face, purring.
He blinked thrice, chasing the morning grit from his eyes, and reached up to scritch the little creature between its ears. "Spoilsport," he said to her. The kitten arched her back, pushing her head against his attentive fingers, her little engine still murring.
He took the first deep breath of the morning, unwilling to move further. A green spread covered him, sandwiching him between itself and the matching green mattress underneath, and its persistent warmth lulled him more so than the cat's desire for attention.
The dream's impressions still floated behind his eyes, though. Accolades, adulation, some of his favorite things, but not all his. Shared. He might have been behind them, but he was not alone in them. The cheers had not been for him, not directly, but for... something larger, something that floated, loomed like an unseen pocket of comforting warmth to match the trapped and body-heated air comforting him.
For a moment, he could hear voices long lost, feel smiles long turned to ash and buried, but still real, somehow, still... yes. Where ash might fall, new grass, new growth, new trees and a new canopy might grow. The thought was as warm as the others. It wasn't a thing in itself as much as... something being filled: A hole, once gaping and open, was not so deep and wide as it once was.
The kitten nudged his nose with her own; the quick, cold contact made him startle a little, and then laugh. He didn't want to move. Gods, this felt good.
He peered to the window, caught the slant of sunlight illuminating the dust in the air. He blinked, and swallowed. He didn't want to move. It was dawn, like hundreds of others before it, yet... no paths beckoned. He didn't want to move.
But another sound pushed through his hazy, waking state. A splash, and a soft voice humming, just audible over the lick of tiny waves. He focused his eyes, and could see the hint of steam in the sunbeam, now. Ah, the tub...
He scritched the base of the kitten's tale. "I think it's time." He whispered. The kitten blinked at him, and hopped from his chest, giving a little impatient meow in her wake. Time. How long it felt since he'd started out, how many dawns had come and gone, and him with them, place to place, never actually going somewhere as much as away from wherever here was, with but stars and music and a tent for company. But one could not build anything, not a legacy, not a troupe, not a life, without some sort of foundation. Perhaps Oschon and Byregot were not antitheses, after all.
The soft hum resolved into something rhythmical, a sweet little singsong of a tune long known in the Shroud, rising from the unseen singer, hidden as the tub was behind screen and low wall, and resolved a dozen uncertainties at once. The song paused, and the voice behind it offered up a single word.
"Nathan?"
.......
Five minutes later, gold eyes, rimmed by a shade of green and framed by a head of hair the red of autumnal leaves, widened a little when a mostly-unclothed bard dragged a stool beside the edge of the tub. He covered his lips with one calloused finger, and touched her own lips with another. After a moment of stillness, he sat back, and the touch moved to the verdant gilt lute in his lap, letting tune and lyrics speak for him.
"Woke up in the mornin', and I looked up to the sun
Once, I would be on my way, but I think I might be done
I hear the paths a-calling, telling me to go my way
But there's a different call that's keeping me with you today
Can't help but play along, when I hear that special song
So I'm gonna see if I can get this right
Used to be gone with the sun, but you just might be the one
So you'll still have me around all through the night
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
Don't feel like wand'rin', wand'rin; I can see the sunrise fine from your room
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; don't need morning air when I smell your perfume
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; I'd rather stay in the bed for another dawn with you
In my time, I've walked about, through hamlet and empire
To sing and play from town to town was all I did aspire
It never mattered in the past just which road I would chose
But now there may be something that I can't afford to lose
Now, I can't pretend that I know how this will end
'Cause I've never set upon on this thoroughfare
But if it's the thing to do, let's try something really new
So that maybe we can build this as a pair
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
So let me linger with you yet, and play this song as a duet,
And my sun and stars be the bright ones in your eyes...
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
Don't feel like wand'rin', wand'rin; I can see the sunrise fine from your room
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; don't need morning air when I smell your perfume
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; I'd rather stay in the bed for another dawn with you"
-------------------------------------------------------
(Spoiler for inspiration! It took half a year to get back to this, and Nathan's been through so many changes...)
The room was packed with warm bodies dressed in splashes of colorful finery, all in motion, and he felt as much as heard their voices, the cheers flowing towards the stage like an incoming, rolling tide; roses and pink petals floated down in arcs from above.
He stood straight again, and realized that he didn't recognize the stage. There was a familiar chandelier above, a set of chairs in a completely clashing style off to one side, and timeworn, scuffed, carved-up tables in another corner, all looking familiar but not familiar together.
The voices weren't all directed towards him, either. A pair of paces before him stood a line of familiar hairstyles, blondes and reds and blacks and even a green. The people they were attached to had their backs to him, and were taking bows to the cheering, somehow insubstantial throng; the drifting petals found themselves lodged within locks, braids and tails, colors blending...
The vision, which he was certain must have once been sharp, became blurry, a smudged wash of moving, hazy hues. Only the sounds remained sharp, and as he squinted, trying to assign names or identities to splashes of color, a new sound became audible - a persistent, deep hum. The hum became louder, becoming at first reminiscent of the magitek engines he'd seen in Ishgard, but then less harsh and grating, and somehow comforting in the chaos of swirling color that the room was becoming, making him start to feel dizzy. Sprays of what must have been sparkling wines erupted from where the crowd must still be, dousing him and the band of people with him, forcing his eyes closed in reflex, but the liquid felt gritty, somehow...
... the haze of hues snapped into sharpness once more as his eyes opened again, and the air immediately felt cooler. Something still hummed in his ear and rasped wetly upon his cheek, but now it had form, and a name: Minuet. He was not standing, but reclined on his back, and the black kitten was licking at his face, purring.
He blinked thrice, chasing the morning grit from his eyes, and reached up to scritch the little creature between its ears. "Spoilsport," he said to her. The kitten arched her back, pushing her head against his attentive fingers, her little engine still murring.
He took the first deep breath of the morning, unwilling to move further. A green spread covered him, sandwiching him between itself and the matching green mattress underneath, and its persistent warmth lulled him more so than the cat's desire for attention.
The dream's impressions still floated behind his eyes, though. Accolades, adulation, some of his favorite things, but not all his. Shared. He might have been behind them, but he was not alone in them. The cheers had not been for him, not directly, but for... something larger, something that floated, loomed like an unseen pocket of comforting warmth to match the trapped and body-heated air comforting him.
For a moment, he could hear voices long lost, feel smiles long turned to ash and buried, but still real, somehow, still... yes. Where ash might fall, new grass, new growth, new trees and a new canopy might grow. The thought was as warm as the others. It wasn't a thing in itself as much as... something being filled: A hole, once gaping and open, was not so deep and wide as it once was.
The kitten nudged his nose with her own; the quick, cold contact made him startle a little, and then laugh. He didn't want to move. Gods, this felt good.
He peered to the window, caught the slant of sunlight illuminating the dust in the air. He blinked, and swallowed. He didn't want to move. It was dawn, like hundreds of others before it, yet... no paths beckoned. He didn't want to move.
But another sound pushed through his hazy, waking state. A splash, and a soft voice humming, just audible over the lick of tiny waves. He focused his eyes, and could see the hint of steam in the sunbeam, now. Ah, the tub...
He scritched the base of the kitten's tale. "I think it's time." He whispered. The kitten blinked at him, and hopped from his chest, giving a little impatient meow in her wake. Time. How long it felt since he'd started out, how many dawns had come and gone, and him with them, place to place, never actually going somewhere as much as away from wherever here was, with but stars and music and a tent for company. But one could not build anything, not a legacy, not a troupe, not a life, without some sort of foundation. Perhaps Oschon and Byregot were not antitheses, after all.
The soft hum resolved into something rhythmical, a sweet little singsong of a tune long known in the Shroud, rising from the unseen singer, hidden as the tub was behind screen and low wall, and resolved a dozen uncertainties at once. The song paused, and the voice behind it offered up a single word.
"Nathan?"
.......
Five minutes later, gold eyes, rimmed by a shade of green and framed by a head of hair the red of autumnal leaves, widened a little when a mostly-unclothed bard dragged a stool beside the edge of the tub. He covered his lips with one calloused finger, and touched her own lips with another. After a moment of stillness, he sat back, and the touch moved to the verdant gilt lute in his lap, letting tune and lyrics speak for him.
"Woke up in the mornin', and I looked up to the sun
Once, I would be on my way, but I think I might be done
I hear the paths a-calling, telling me to go my way
But there's a different call that's keeping me with you today
Can't help but play along, when I hear that special song
So I'm gonna see if I can get this right
Used to be gone with the sun, but you just might be the one
So you'll still have me around all through the night
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
Don't feel like wand'rin', wand'rin; I can see the sunrise fine from your room
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; don't need morning air when I smell your perfume
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; I'd rather stay in the bed for another dawn with you
In my time, I've walked about, through hamlet and empire
To sing and play from town to town was all I did aspire
It never mattered in the past just which road I would chose
But now there may be something that I can't afford to lose
Now, I can't pretend that I know how this will end
'Cause I've never set upon on this thoroughfare
But if it's the thing to do, let's try something really new
So that maybe we can build this as a pair
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
So let me linger with you yet, and play this song as a duet,
And my sun and stars be the bright ones in your eyes...
'Cause I don't feel like wand'rin down those unknown paths today
My heart might feel that urge, but now it's tellin' me to stay
Oh, maybe we could find some shady lane where we could get away
But I don't feel like wand'rin, no ma'am, none of that today
Don't feel like wand'rin', wand'rin; I can see the sunrise fine from your room
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; don't need morning air when I smell your perfume
Don't feel like wand'rin, wand'rin; I'd rather stay in the bed for another dawn with you"
-------------------------------------------------------
(Spoiler for inspiration! It took half a year to get back to this, and Nathan's been through so many changes...)
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."