Music for Little Ala Mihgo [Closed]

[Q'nahli]

The sun shone brightly upon the sands of Thanalan, as it nearly always did. This day Nahli wore loose fitting desert clothes and one of her wide brimmed hats. She was not dressed nearly as fancy as she usually was. The refugees would not appreciate her flaunting her comfortable lifestyle while they fought to survive. The Miqo'te had packed enough to last for their short stay. She had Eorzea Lyre and a longbow with her, just in case. Little Ala Mihgo was not far.

"We will be at Little Ala Mihgo shortly!" Nahli says to Odette, who is probably nearby, either mounted on a horsebird or walking. Nahli would be riding her chocobo named 'Leafsong'.

[Capheira]

A "kweh" squarked from somewhere in the vicinity of Nahli's tail in a cloud of dirt-red dust, along with the thudding footsteps of a rambunctious chocobo and it's Highlander charge. Wrestling with the reins of a dark brown bird, Odette nodded in the miqo'te's direction regardless of whether or not the woman could see her.

 

"Nng. . . bloody bird." she muttered under her breath, snorting out the billowing dust that assaulted her nose. Peering upward from beneath the slight shade of a hempen hood, she squinted long lashes in the direction they were headed with some small measure of apprehension for a settlement long left behind. When her fellow Jackal had mentioned and then invited the Highlander to join her on by-moon visits she made to Little Ala Mhigo, it was with mild apprehension she agreed. After all, the miqo'te had come to her with a desire for feedback on lyrical content for such; it seemed only right that it seemed an appropriate time to look upon her people once more - regardless of the thoughts and opinions she may hold of the place.

 

The blonde bardess herself was dressed down, much as she always was, save for public appearances, though perhaps going that one step further for Thanalan sun and Ala Mhigan anonymity. An off-white, cowled robe flowed open over her usual exposing shirt and short-breeches, whilst a hood of the same hue was pulled upward over golden locks. As always, worn leather satchel remained slung over her shoulder, banging against the bronzed skin of a bar leg as she was thrown about. Additional luggage of violin remained fastened securely to the back of jostling saddle.

 

"What. . . ack!" a sudden jolt of her feathered mount send the bardess leaning to one side as it picked up speed without rhyme or reason. "What is yer normal routine fer these trips of yers when ye come out this way, iffen ye have one?"

[Q'nahli]

Nahli's mount trotted on, giving the miqo nowhere near as much trouble. She couldn't help but to break into a smile at Odette's beast of burden. "Feisty isn't he?" She says, trying to cover her mirth, though she does not do so very well. Peering into the distance, Little Ala Mihgo was within sight, a modest shelter in the middle of a sun scorched desert. It had a beauty of sorts.

"Well, I take the sunlight upon arriving to settle in as good as I can. During evening I sing and entertain the refugees. If they need any aid with hunting and gathering, I do my part." She shifts on her mount to look back towards her companion. Leafsong continued to trot forward, every now and then loosing a loud "KWEH!". By now the sun was dipping down, preparing to descend beyond the horizon.

"We will be there before sundown. Usually I get a warm welcome. They appreciate those like us who give them the time of day. Unlike the damned merchants of Ul'dah. Some of them are good, many are not." Her lips press into a thin line, and she shakes her head.

[Capheira]

Odette snorted through freckled nose once more. "Fiesty? Ugh, hardly. . . it's just. . . never been fond of these damn things. All wobbly on their two damn legs, it's a wonder they dun topple over."she replied, shouting out over the short distance between their mounts as Bayard swerved out rightward once more. At least this one hadn't given her a faceful of feathered wing. Yet. 

 

"I admit, I'm kinda surprised they're sah receptive," called the Highlander once more, managing somehow to steer the reluctant bird back in the direction of her fellow bard. Not unlike a dog being taken for a walk and pulling against it's leash, the comparison was an easy one to be made in relationship between woman and chocobo. "They. . . we," she corrected, "tend t'be a proud people who dun respond well t'pity. Depends on who yer dealin' with though, aye. Still, it pleases me  t'hear that ye've had success there - I imagine especially with t'younger lot."

 

A nod was given to her tailed comrade for her latter words, "In all honesty, I could nae speak on t'current mindsets beyond what I've heard. I've avoided it, beyond the resis-- third-party contact here an' there." A loud "KWEH" sounded from Bayard again as he decidedly picked up the pace, shooting past Nahli and Leafsong with a disgruntled mounted in saddle. "Nnnn!"

[Q'nahli]

Nahli watches Odette and her bird blaze by, bursting into titters. "You get used to them. I trained with them a great deal in Gridania." She digs her heels into the feathery flanks of her bird gently, urging her forward after the runaway chocobo her friend is mounted on. "Leafsong used to be like Bayard when I first met her." The miqo absently pats the bird, running her fingers along it's feathered neck.

She looks back towards Little Ala Mihgo, her face once again breaking into a smile, "They were not fond of me at first. I showed them that I could be just as persistent as they are. I kept coming despite the fact that many did not attend my performances. I earned a grudging respect, I suppose. I have been coming here every moon or so, after I spent time in Ul'dah. I stopped going to Ul'dah after this trouble with Talen began..." Nahil trails off, looking off into the distance, her brows furrowing in sudden worry.

"I pray he is alright. I...I fear the worst. The Maelstrom said he went missing on a patrol..."

[Capheira]

Yanking back on the reins of the unruly feathered companion, the bronzed blonde muttered with a shake of her head. "Should have four legs. . . now that's a real mount." Fly away tendrils of golden hair were tugged free by the dry wind that warmed her freckled features as the Highlander turned the attention of her dark ocean hues over her shoulder to glance back in Nahli's direction. Thankfully, the bird had slowed long enough for the smaller woman to catch up. Whatever Odette herself had to say for Nahli's response, found no foundation as the words from the lips of her friend trailed into expression of concern.

 

"I guess ye spoke with them, then?" confirmed the seafarer turned chocobo-wrangler, her voice dipped to something of a more conversational tone with the distance closed between chocobo. Golden brows slowly dipped to knit at the center of a sun-kissed forehead, an expression of thoughtful disquiet creeping across her freckled countenance. A single clucked note sounded from Odette's full lips as rosen tongue flicked against the back of pearly teeth. "They could tell ye nothin' else? Perhaps what patrol he were on or who were the last one t'see him?" she asked after a few moments of silence, save for the thudding of feathered footsteps and the occasionally chirping cicada.

[Q'nahli]

Nahli shakes her head, "No. They divulged no other details to me. Just that he was patrolling Upper La Noscea up by Camp Bronzelake, and that he never reported back in. Talen is the flighty sort, but he wouldn't up and abandon the Maelstrom, especially since he knows he would get an earboxing from myself if he did." She sighs, "I may go search for him after the Festival, but I doubt I will find anything..."

The miqo'te leans against Leafsong, turning to Odette, "Some context is in order though. Talen, my friend, was an assassin. Worked for a merchant in Ul'dah. A ruthless Dunesfolk know as Tasarth Vasarth. Weird name for a lalafell..." She remarks, almost as a side note. "I convinced Talen to turn himself around. Tasarth did not take kindly to my meddling." Her worried expression contorts into one of anger. "He said he would kill Tal, but that it was not anything personal. Just business." She clutches the reigns of her 'bo so hard that her knuckles turn white and pop softly.

"I guess that even life and death is just business to the merchants of Ul'dah."

[Capheira]

"Typical," sighed the woman, dark lips thinning slightly for what seemed to be ever-present red tape that was so very common within governmental hierarchy. 

 

Daring to take a hand off the reins that she had tightly wrapped around hands that were lightly scarred upon knuckles and digits by thin, almost unnoticeable lines, the Highlander threaded her fingers through the blonde pallor of her bangs for a few passing beats. It then dropped to her lap. As those ocean hues turned once more to the dark-haired miqo'te beside her, Odette offered a sympathetic smile as she listened to the explanation; small as it was. Even in doing so, her attention was not fully present, however, as if the gears of her mind were already churning for possibility and probability both. 

 

"Tasarth." was murmured softly under her breath; not a name she recognized. A moment later, the woman thumbed at the freckled curve of her sculpted nose and suggested, "T'first thing yer goin' t'want t'do is ask around those were were t'same rank as he were. Screw t'big fellas, they ain't gonna tell ye shite. Whether they cannae or willnae are both two sides of t'same coin, sah mebbe those he actually worked with who ain't got their heads up their asses could at least give ye some idea of when an' where he were last seen. That's gonna give ye somethin' of a radius, at least. Yer also gonna want t'tell me where I can find this Tasarth fellow." continued Odette, gesturing with a few bronzed fingers as they rode. 

 

A single slap was given to her neck for the unfortunate blood-sucker that had taken it's perch thereon. "If nae me, then someone else what can have a little chat with that sentient popato."

[Q'nahli]

"I will ask then. Do some leg work. Mayhaps even look into those who were on duty up at Camp Bronzelake. If I can find a lead, I will take it." The bit of hope brings a small smile to her lips, but the worry hasn't been banished, not completely anyway. She shakes her head at Odette, her smile becoming sad, "Sadly, I cannot tell you where he makes his home. It appears that he moves around a lot to prevent himself from being found by his enemies. To make matters worse, he is a Thaumaturge. Tal said he decimated an Amalj'aa ambush all by himself."

The grow close to the gates of Little Ala Mihgo as they converse, the entrance would soon loom before them. "He also seems the sort to punish those who meddle in his business. It is why Aeron did not want to put his name to this. He did not want to draw the Jackals into another fight against a foe with great resources. I understand. Seeing half of the shite the Jackals have to deal with, I cannot blame him. Between Garleans and Cults and all that, another enemy may be too much for us to handle. I will figure it out. If I have to, I will put an arrow into the Lala's eye and be done with it."

Finally, they arrive at the gates of Little Ala Mihgo. Two guards, a man and a woman step before them wearing harnesses and subligars, each holding a wicked lance. "Speak your names and your business in Little Ala Mihgo." Nahli would pull her lyre from a pouch on Leafsong's side, "I am Q'nahli. I have performed here before." She would put on a smile, looking to Odette and Bayard.

[Capheira]

Odette listened as closely as she could to the explanation her friend had given, some small measure of intensity grasping at her comely features from within windswept hood. "Of course it would be a swivvin' finger-wriggler," the bardess grumbled under her breath, a slight shudder rippling up through her spine for the unveil that creased her brows and soured her tongue with the thought. It was quickly chased by a quirk of those full lips in something of mild amusement and sly formulation of whatever plan was snaking its way through the recesses of strategic mind. 

 

"And that is why, dear Nahli, we would nae put any names to it. . .  nothin' that can be drawn back to our home or t'people we care about. Ye cannae come after t'unseen, ye cannae track t'unheard; be they our steps or the steps of those whom operate in shadow. There is always a way, just depends on how far yer willin' t'go t'see it done." spoke the woman in a leveled tone that trailed off as the gates came into view. Without realizing, Odette's breath caught momentarily in the swell of her generously curved bosom. Little Ala Mhigo.  A wash of mixed emotions swept over her, if only in brief - disgust, sorrow, anger, nostalgia. 

 

It was several moments later that the Highlander realized all eyes now rested on her and in knowledge of such, she snapped with ease into a charismatic grin that stretched across bronzed countenance beneath the off-white cowl. "S'me, ain't it? Tag's Odette." she greeted, lifting a few bronzed fingers to tap against the casing of her violin before placing that same hand upon the generous curve of her chest to dip her head. "I'm keepin' her company."

[Q'nahli]

"Right, off you both go." Both of the Highlanders step back to their posts as the pair passes, awaiting the next traveler to approach.

 

 

"Aye, but if he were to be taken out of the picture in any way, I would be the first suspect to have a hand. He has the gil to cause plenty of trouble, even if he dies. Of course, mayhaps any retribution aimed will die with him. Who knows?" She says with a shrug as they pass through the gates.

 

Nahli guides her chocobo to the nearest watering trough and slides out of the mount. "Good girl." She whispers, making sure to get the bird watered and fed. The miqo'te begins to unlace the saddlebags on her 'bo. "We can set up a spot for ourselves over on the upper level." With a grunt, she slings the bags over her shoulder, snatching up her bow. 

 

 

While they are unloading, they draw a few stares, but it isn't uncommon to see adventurers in Little Ala Mihgo as of late. A few nod to Nahli if they pass, and she would nod in return. Leafsong eats and drinks, cooing in satisfaction. 

 

 

"Shall we?" She says, gesturing towards the tunnel that leads to the cavern they would be staying in. 

[Q'nahli]

((Thank yooooou! ))

[Capheira]

"I see yer point," replied Odette, her ocean hues tracking the movement of the gate as they passed through, the light of the aetherite glowing softly to light the waters of the inner clearing the two approached. She stopped in her tracks for the briefest of moments, gaze scanning the surrounding area to search for any faces that she might somehow recognize through a child's eyes after twenty years. There were none. "Still, if I can help in any way Nahli. . . I ain't goin' t'press it on ye. Ye know where t'find me if ye need an extra pair of hands what ain't afraid t'get dirty."

 

Taking the first opportunity that presented itself, the blonde slipped off her saddle with a duelists grace. Or so she would have, were Bayard willing to cooperate. Just as the Highlander had swung her shapely leg over the worn leather saddle, the feathered menace decided to start walking forward with a flap of it's spindly wings right in her freckled face as he trod off after Leafsong; apparently enamored. "Pah!" exclaimed Odette, swatting at the belligerent assault and losing her grip of the saddle in the process to stumble backward before finding her balance. 

 

Grasping the chocobo by the reins, though not without first casting a baleful look in it's direction, she moves to follow the miqo'te with a nod. "Aye, best we do that." she agreed, throwing back the hood of her open robe to shake out golden ponytail and windswept bangs as they walked further into the tunnels. Each step in the dark dirt was a memory for the Highlander, not of this place but of another far to the east.

[Q'nahli]

Nahli covers a smile at Bayard's antics, her feline eyes dancing. "Seems like he has taken a fancy to Leafsong." She looks to Odette who is in tow, her expression one of appreciation. "Thank you. It means much to me. Not everyone has allies, nay, friends as good as the Jackals." Each step echoed down the corridor, before long they came to the cavern where they would be staying. It was cool, and dark, lit by torches. The flames within flickered and danced, casting light over the walls. People sat about, sharpening weapons, sleeping, practicing swordplay. Many wore dour or angry expressions. They had been dealt a poor hand, and no one was willing to help them. 

 

 

They found their way to the open area where they would stay. Nahli would set down the saddlebags and begin unpacking the few belongings she had brought. A sleeping bag, a few potions, some bandages, her bowstring, rations and a few other odds and ends was all she had on this outing. "Last time I went on an outing I brought my whole room. Miir kept poking fun at me for it. Lots of unnecessary shite. I have been working on changing that." She sits back, pulling off her hat, her light skin glistening with sweat. "I am happy to be here. Despite all that is happening, I am glad to lift these people's hearts. Some call it pity. I'm not here because I pity them. I am here because they have nothing, and mayhap for a moment they can forget that in my songs. Mayhap from my songs they can glean a shred of hope for the future."

[Capheira]

The jolt of the reins in her hand proved true to Nahli's words as Baynard lurched forward anew; much to the disdain of Odette herself. Regardless, the smile that was offered in the miqo'te's direction was a warm one that sent the smattering of cinnamon freckles upon her bronzed cheeks dancing. "Any time, Nahli." she responded to notions of gratitude for offered aid.

 

Tying the brown-feathered chocobo to the nearest of the rickety rails that ran the edge of pathing to the lower sections below, Odette glanced to the nearby tents and worn blankets of clan-kin that gazed in their direction. Despite the fact that Q'Nahli had made a habit of spending the night every few moons it did little to stymie the attention they received for being there; whether it for the miqo'te, the pair of them and their intentions or the blonde highlander whom was unknown to them. Casting off the outer robe from her person, the shapely siren drew down her own minimal luggage and rolled out canvas bedding which only in slightly better condition than those around her.

 

"These people are here because they choose t'be." murmured Odette softly in Nahli's direction, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard. "We went from bein' a proud nation, filled with capable men and women. . . t'this? Conquerors turned beggars. It ain't an easy life, twelve do I know it, but there's so much more they could be doin' instead of sittin' here on their arses." A soft sigh left the woman's full lips as she shook her head slowly, conflicted opinions flitting across her features in brief. "I understand t'plight, I understand t'circumstances and twelve know I'd give every coin I had iffen I thought it could do some good here. There are good people here who dun deserve this lifestyle and who continue t'fight as they can, but. . ."

 

The men and women of Ala Mhigo had truly suffered much, that much was undeniable. In such, they had crumbled; tyranny, invasion, migration, death, rejection, oppression. It had all come to a head at the refugee camp turned home for Highlander old and young.

 

"Yer cause is a good one, Nahli, an' I support it wholeheartedly. . . but nae one can help those who dunnae choose t'help themselves. Dun mean we dunnae try though. Iffen a moment of solace, a moment of freedom and lifted weight is all that can be provided, then so be it. Let's inject life into these veins."

[Q'nahli]

Nahli nods, "I understand that. Ul'dah and Gridania have done nothing to help matters though. They won't help, so I will. It is something. To me, that's better than nothing. Mayhaps a song will inspire them. Bring that fire back into their hearts and souls." She says just as quietly, pulling her lyre-harp into her lap. With deft fingers, she fiddles with the tuning pins, every now and then plucking a string to check the sound it produces. The instrument was lovingly crafted from wood of the highest quality, probably harvested from the Black Shroud, and it is plain that Nahli tended to it well. 

 

After a few moments of playing with her lyre-harp, she speaks again, glancing over at Odette, "Where did you learn to play, if I may ask?" She peers searchingly at her traveling companion, knowing well that the subject could be touchy.

[Capheira]

In her wisdom, the Highlander chose not to respond to the miqo'te's mention of the city-states beyond a simple "Aye," and the quirk of tapered corners of full lips into a small smirk as she gave a dip of her head in agreement."An' yer right, Nahli. Ye have t'do what feels right in yer heart t'do. Without t'opportunity fer choice we are nothin'. Yer choice t'do an' provide what ye can, an' the choice of others as t'what they do with it. There's nae greater freedom than that, an' nae one. . . nae Garleans, or Sultansworn, or pirates can take that frem ye."

 

Patting down the bedding in full, Odette flashed a grin in Q'Nahli's direction as she tuned her instrument. Pulling her exposed legs, clad to knee in worn leather boots, close to her person, the woman plopped down atop the worn canvas with a short huff for task completed. After lacing her fingers behind her head and leaning back against the caverns dusty wall, she considered the question a moment before answering without hesitation.

 

"I taught meself," explains the buxom blonde, deciding instead to stretch her legs out before her with lent positioning. Crossing her ankles, she goes on to explain further. "Lots of long nights at sea with naught t'do but stare outward an' be ready fer anythin' from enemy vessels to approachin' storms. With that kinda time on me hands, only seemed right t'put it t'use." she states with the small lift of her shoulders in a shrug, "Turns out that I found great joy in doin' so. I played often. Went from there t'buskin' wherever we were docked, then playin' around t'place at taverns and the like." After the slight point of a booted toe in the miqo'te's direction she asked, "What of ye? I dun think I've heard t'whole story a'fore. At least nae about this mentor of yers."

[Q'nahli]

With a smile, Nahli rests her lyre-harp against her side and strums the course, producing a pretty melody that resounds throughout the cavern. She plays a small, soothing ditty for anyone close enough to hear. A song that put the hearts and minds of those at ease. How long, Nahli wondered, had these people slept with naught but the cries of beasts and the wail of the desert winds? Too long, she thought, but no longer. They all deserved a small respite. 

 

Even as she played, she also listened, one ear splayed to the side, the other forward. The song was soft enough not to drown out Odette's story. She could only imagine what it would be like to have little to do but learn how to play. A sorrowful expression crosses Nahli's face for but a moment, though her music plays the same. "It was time well spent, so I say. You are more accomplished than most minstrels I have met." 

 

The miqo'te lays her hands across the strings of her lyre-harp to still them, rendering the melody quiet for the time being. She takes her own time to consider the tale of how she learned, and a smile plays on her lips at the memories. 

 

"It was just after my seventh name day. My Mother asked me to go to the market in Gridania. I ran into a man there. A hyur with little but an Eorzean Lyre-Harp and a bow. He said that I had the heart of a bard, and that with that heart I could inspire people. Touch their souls in ways that others could not. From that day forth I poured my time into the study of word, song, verse, and the bow. The art of being a bard has been lost over the years. Many assume a bard to be a traveling performer who plays for commoners and kings. The Bards of Eld were hardened bowmen, who sang in combat to inspire their allies to great feats. I wish to be just like them. I will be just like them. Anyroad, I joined the Adders when I came of age, and recently I was taken under the wing of the man who mentors me now. He was one of the last few bards to remain." 

 

She winks, "Of course, I use my talents for more than just combat. A well placed song can be a thousand times more effective than any blade."

[Capheira]

Odette couldn't help but find amusement in Nahli's sorrowful reaction to the tale she'd told, a short blurted note of barked laughter leaving her lips in earthy melody. "What's with t'face?" she asked teasingly, not waiting for an answer herself as she went on to make statement that was brief explanation. "Fer better or worse they were some of the most important years of me life, lass. I cannae complain. Without them, I wouldn't be the same charming young woman ye see before you. Possibly."

 

As the melody was stilled by her hand, so too did Odette's laid-back rambling fade to silence in allowance and anticipation for the answer. Nodding her understanding for the woman's tale as it was told, she herself languidly tugged a small, dented flask from leather holster that rested upon the curve of a rounded hip. Unscrewing the cap with the faintest of screeches from metal threading, the rim of aforementioned flask was lifted to wet bronzed lips with the amber liquid contained within. With an expression that was appreciative for the shared words, the Highlander leaned forward to offer Nahli the flask when she had concluded.

 

"Heart of a bard..." she murmured softly, drawing a slender thumb down the length of her jaw that tapped once against her chin before dropping to rest against exposed thigh. "Huh." hummed Odette, a wide grin breaking over her features in a dazzling display of pearly white that contrasted with the tan upon her flesh. "That sure is somethin', Nahli. A gift t'be sure. I ain't got nae bard's heart or aetheric skill or nothin', but that dedication... that desire? That I can appreciate. It's that passion which inspires and will continue t'do so."

 

The woman paused for the allowance of full lips to tug to one side in impish smirk. "So how long until I can convince ye t'shoot an apple off me head?"

[Q'nahli]

Nahli would open her mouth to answer, only to find that Odette answering before she could get a word out. She opted to smile instead. "I am fiercely glad that you found some good in those days. I do not believe I could imagine a dour Odette." Setting her lyre-harp gently to the side, she takes up the offered flask, taking a healthy pull. The liquor burned going down, causing the miqo to cough and sputter. "Ahem...Gods...I think I shall stick to honey mead." 

 

She would sit back, pulling the bottom of her breeches out of her boots. "I've always been fascinated with song, and I always loved to sing and dance when I was little. I supposed I am blessed in a way. I still have that love, that passion for song. That is something that can never be taken. You have a similar passion. If you didn't, you wouldn't still be singing and playing." 

 

Now comfortable, Nahli would lay back on her pad, staring up at the dark ceiling of the cavern. A small laugh slips from her. "I do not think I am ready for such a feat. I am good as an archer, aye, but I do not know if I am -that- good. Some day mayhap. Some day mayhaps I will be as good as Gilbert the Godsbow."

[Capheira]

Leaning forward to take back her flask of whiskey, bronzed lips twitching impishly in amusement for the woman's reaction to the biting liquor, Odette lifted the rim to once more partake of the amber contents in hearty nip. "I pray ye never have to, Nahli." responds the Highlander, thumbing her freckled nose as she swirled the remainder of the flask.

 

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed with a short laugh that was somewhat melodic in it's husky, earthen tone. "As ye said, I would nae be doin' it if I did nae enjoy it. Life is fleetin' an' too short t'spend wrapped up in things that don't make you happy. Live it, savor it, challenge it, make love to it." Leaning her head back against the cavern wall, the deep ocean hues of eyes framed with long lashes danced their attention upward to the ceiling in a likewise manner; wistful smile resting easily on the curve of her lips.

 

"I don't doubt that ye will be, lass." responded Odette once the miqo'te had set firm her desire for bright future, pausing only briefly the exhale a relaxed breath and thread her fingers through golden bangs. "On that note though, do ye intend t'play tonight?"

[Q'nahli]

Nahli sits back up, her smile only growing. "Your faith in me is refreshing. I will make sure that it isn't misplaced." She takes up her lyre-harp again, and strums the course with the flourish of a deft hand. "I intend to make the most of life. Just as I intend to play tonight." The miqo'te springs up from her pad and makes her way to an open place in the cavern. A few faces here and there look up from whatever they are doing to look her way. Some get up and wander over.

 

The bardess sits, settling her lyre-harp against her side. She plucks a few strings in sucession, closing her eyes, as she begins to play.

[Capheira]

Odette nodded to the words spoken my the miqo'te with a smile playing lightly upon her bronzed lips. A gazed hued with mixed colours of blue and green akin to ocean depths, the Highlander tracked the movements of her travelling companion and fellow musician as she departed some feet away to begin her performance. 

 

The blonde made no move to join her at this point. Despite the fact the two had never played together prior, having only talked and shared their musical abilities in brief, this moment alone belonged to Q'Nahli and Odette intended to listen with her fullest attention. It was not, however, without notice taken of those around them who had moved likewise. Head listed back against the dusty red of the cavern wall, long lashes dipped only partially as listened for the other woman's opening chords.

[Q'nahli]

She sings, her voice strong and proud. The song she plays if soft, but it carries through the cavern, echoing along the walls. Though night is approaching, the cave seems to brighten. Mayhaps it is the mood? 

 

Ala Mihgo fell. ♪

So the scholars tell. ♪

But what they say not. ♪

Is that their pride shant rot. ♪

Still strong and stout. ♪

Their Lances still they tout. ♪

No loss shall lay them low. ♪

Stand they shall and strike a blow. ♪

For them death holds no sting. ♪

Nay, only of victory shall they sing. ♪

 

 

Her fingers pluck the strings of her lyre-harp. The miqo'te's eyes are closed, her training guiding her fingers. 

 

Soon the banners shall be held high. ♪

The time for battle shall soon be nigh. ♪

Lances will strike the Garleans down. ♪

In blood will Ala Mihgo's enemies drown. ♪

Many harsh days are to come. ♪

But with Hope do the hearts of Ala Mihgo drum. ♪

The fire within their souls will never falter. ♪

The Garleans will burn upon Rhalgar's altar. ♪

They will be driven from the land. ♪

Take heart, victory is soon at hand. ♪

 

There is no flourish at the end of this triumphant, and mayhaps even violent song. Nahli watches the reactions of those that gathered. One or two may nod, the rest seem resolute, cheered somewhat by the song.