Don't think about it.
The image in the mirror huffed back at him: a tall Highland Hyur of tanned skin, chestnut brown beard and long hair, and a thickly-bridged nose. It wore a lively shirt of white and red stripes, and held before its chest was an ornately decorated lute. Its face seemed taut.
Don't think about it.
The hands in the mirror positioned themselves on the instrument, calloused fingers easily finding their place and chords.
Don't think about it.
He cleared his throat, and watched the form in the mirror stand straight, spine align to full height. A pair of cleansing breaths worked magic to clear his thoughts and enervate his spirit.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about the Festival. Don't think of the applause. Don't think of Halone and Nophica fighting and making it rain. Don't think about Cora. Don't think about Jancis or Xenedra or the others. Don't think about Cora. Don't think about flowers or a nearly miraculous burst of sun. Don't think about the lingering soreness. Don't think about the trail to come. Don't think about the future, or the next town. Don't think about Cora.
The Hyur in the mirror shook his head, sending his long hair waving.
Focus. One song at a time. This one's for a friend. Only one song at a time, bard. One song at a time. There will be time for all else after this one performance. Get it right. Don't think about duets. There's at least one more solo left, and this one's for the best two reasons: to grease the wheels of affection between a woman and a man, and for the bloody fun of it.
He cleared his throat, and played the opening notes of the tune, the lute giving forth high, fast-tempoed notes.
"He came down to the Quicksand,
But to find a cure for dry lips.
Thought he might find a quiet evening
Sampling ales and leaving tips.
The bar became rather busy,
And he didn't know what he'd found:
A bevy of twitching, furry tails
Started gathering all around.
He could feel 'em circling tightly
He could sense them struttin' around.
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Was there no Nuhn in this town?
He had tails to the left, tails to the right
Is he the only man in town?
He wasn't looking for any Miqo'te,
On this or any other day;
Might rather spend time with Hyuran honeys
Watching sunsets by Vesper Bay.
But somehow a tribe of toothy ladies,
From somewhere in Thanalan,
Came swishing tails and flicking ears,
Tryin' to find themselves a man.
But He could feel 'em circling closely,
He could sense them struttin' around.
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Was there no Nuhn in this town?
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Is he the only man in town?
So he tried to keep it casual,
With a pleasant "How d'ye do?"
But the tails came slipping closer,
And the purrs were louder, too
You could see a little bead of sweat
Just a drippin' from his brow,
And the last we heard of the man himself
Was a tavern-splitting meow.
And you could see 'em piling all over,
'Cause they were done with struttin' around.
There were tails to the left, tails to the right,
He was the one Nuhn in this place...
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
And lots of lipstick on his face."
The image in the mirror huffed back at him: a tall Highland Hyur of tanned skin, chestnut brown beard and long hair, and a thickly-bridged nose. It wore a lively shirt of white and red stripes, and held before its chest was an ornately decorated lute. Its face seemed taut.
Don't think about it.
The hands in the mirror positioned themselves on the instrument, calloused fingers easily finding their place and chords.
Don't think about it.
He cleared his throat, and watched the form in the mirror stand straight, spine align to full height. A pair of cleansing breaths worked magic to clear his thoughts and enervate his spirit.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about the Festival. Don't think of the applause. Don't think of Halone and Nophica fighting and making it rain. Don't think about Cora. Don't think about Jancis or Xenedra or the others. Don't think about Cora. Don't think about flowers or a nearly miraculous burst of sun. Don't think about the lingering soreness. Don't think about the trail to come. Don't think about the future, or the next town. Don't think about Cora.
The Hyur in the mirror shook his head, sending his long hair waving.
Focus. One song at a time. This one's for a friend. Only one song at a time, bard. One song at a time. There will be time for all else after this one performance. Get it right. Don't think about duets. There's at least one more solo left, and this one's for the best two reasons: to grease the wheels of affection between a woman and a man, and for the bloody fun of it.
He cleared his throat, and played the opening notes of the tune, the lute giving forth high, fast-tempoed notes.
"He came down to the Quicksand,
But to find a cure for dry lips.
Thought he might find a quiet evening
Sampling ales and leaving tips.
The bar became rather busy,
And he didn't know what he'd found:
A bevy of twitching, furry tails
Started gathering all around.
He could feel 'em circling tightly
He could sense them struttin' around.
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Was there no Nuhn in this town?
He had tails to the left, tails to the right
Is he the only man in town?
He wasn't looking for any Miqo'te,
On this or any other day;
Might rather spend time with Hyuran honeys
Watching sunsets by Vesper Bay.
But somehow a tribe of toothy ladies,
From somewhere in Thanalan,
Came swishing tails and flicking ears,
Tryin' to find themselves a man.
But He could feel 'em circling closely,
He could sense them struttin' around.
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Was there no Nuhn in this town?
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
Is he the only man in town?
So he tried to keep it casual,
With a pleasant "How d'ye do?"
But the tails came slipping closer,
And the purrs were louder, too
You could see a little bead of sweat
Just a drippin' from his brow,
And the last we heard of the man himself
Was a tavern-splitting meow.
And you could see 'em piling all over,
'Cause they were done with struttin' around.
There were tails to the left, tails to the right,
He was the one Nuhn in this place...
He had tails to the left, tails to the right,
And lots of lipstick on his face."
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."
![[Image: 3610850.jpg]](http://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/1266293/pics/original/3610850.jpg)
