(But she gets him his glass of water, handing it over before she goes to fill up the kettle to make herself a strong cup of coffee.
She's thankful that Junior is here to lighten the mood: it's been tracing lazy circles around the ceiling for the better part of an hour, mirroring her nervousness, and comes over to inspect Rin as he steps over the threshold.)
[ He drinks as he watches the fish move, then smiles at it as it draws near to him. ]
All right. Someone used to sing this to me when I was young. You're free to take it.
[ He sets the glass down, and then, after clearing his throat, begins to sing. It's a lullaby in his own language--Undercommon--and it has a beguiling, otherworldly tone to it. Rin's voice is a rich tenor, surprisingly warm and multi-dimensional; he sings like he's practiced. He draws out the whispering syllables of the song, slow and careful, and clearly designed to ease a wayward child into sleep. ]
(Lucretia pauses with the kettle in one hand, turning to watch him sing to the voidfish. She hadn't been expecting a performance, which, in hindsight, was perhaps silly of her, but she can never quite tell where Rin's overcompensation begins and ends. She doesn't recognize the language, either. It doesn't sound like Elvish. Not that she would understand it even if it was. She smiles tight and sad at the thought of this.
His voice is beautiful. She leans against the counter and Junior pauses in mid air, flashing blue and purple in time with the melody as it basks in the memory. This is exactly the kind of thing that Junior likes best: craft with real emotion behind it. Lucretia is more than sure it will take the song.
Which it does. The moment Rin has finished singing, Junior promptly accepts, and the song is erased immediately from their memories. Lucretia blinks down at the kettle in her hand, then returns to filling it up at the sink.)
[ Well, that's a weird feeling, albeit not unwelcome. He'd chosen that song for a reason, and to be relieved of its burden--even for a short while--is a blessing. He's still staring up at the fish, his pale eyes slightly wide with wonder, when Lucretia speaks to him again. ]
--ah. Well. Well enough, I suppose.
[ He looks down, shakes his head, rubs his temple. ]
(She hasn't seen Rin like this before; at least, not in recent memory. Quiet, contemplative. She likes it a lot more than the Rin who tries to needle endlessly at the things that she says. Lucretia shrugs a shoulder, watching Junior turn satisfied little loop-de-loops above their heads.
The voidfish's power is muted enough that she can tell Rin must have fed it something just now without the resulting static laid over the lost memory becoming too loud, and distracting.)
No problem.
You're doing me a favour, really. I can only keep it happy with my notes for so long.
No, it's still soothing to watch. It makes you feel small.
(The patterns that swirl in the bell look like galaxies; Lucretia remembers standing in front of the larger Voidfish back at the Legato Conservatory and getting lost in the sheer size of them.
Then, Rin's memory comes back into focus, and Lucretia blinks, glancing over at him curiously.)
I confess I don't know much about the drow where I'm from.
(She knows that Taako and Lup didn't have a particularly great upbringing; but they aren't drow, and she can't speak for elves as a whole, so. She shrugs a shoulder.)
(She does, but she won't thank them, because she privately thinks Rin is being over-dramatic.)
You're the only one from your world here, correct?
(She's been noticing that some people (her, for example) have friends and family in Quarantine, and others have none. Lucretia wonders how the portal deigns who is allowed to come and who is not.)
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riverviewlogs2017-10-07 05:42 pm
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Peachy keen.
[ He heard that old slang from somewhere around here. He follows her amicably, his voice perfectly cheerful. ]
Water's fine, thanks. Got to wet the pipes.
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(But she gets him his glass of water, handing it over before she goes to fill up the kettle to make herself a strong cup of coffee.
She's thankful that Junior is here to lighten the mood: it's been tracing lazy circles around the ceiling for the better part of an hour, mirroring her nervousness, and comes over to inspect Rin as he steps over the threshold.)
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All right. Someone used to sing this to me when I was young. You're free to take it.
[ He sets the glass down, and then, after clearing his throat, begins to sing. It's a lullaby in his own language--Undercommon--and it has a beguiling, otherworldly tone to it. Rin's voice is a rich tenor, surprisingly warm and multi-dimensional; he sings like he's practiced. He draws out the whispering syllables of the song, slow and careful, and clearly designed to ease a wayward child into sleep. ]
no subject
His voice is beautiful. She leans against the counter and Junior pauses in mid air, flashing blue and purple in time with the melody as it basks in the memory. This is exactly the kind of thing that Junior likes best: craft with real emotion behind it. Lucretia is more than sure it will take the song.
Which it does. The moment Rin has finished singing, Junior promptly accepts, and the song is erased immediately from their memories. Lucretia blinks down at the kettle in her hand, then returns to filling it up at the sink.)
How have you been?
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--ah. Well. Well enough, I suppose.
[ He looks down, shakes his head, rubs his temple. ]
Thanks for this.
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The voidfish's power is muted enough that she can tell Rin must have fed it something just now without the resulting static laid over the lost memory becoming too loud, and distracting.)
No problem.
You're doing me a favour, really. I can only keep it happy with my notes for so long.
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Will it--grow?
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(A length of time she does not intend on staying here.)
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[ He squints. ]
Maybe less so once it's the size of a house.
[ But, as she's suggesting, he doubts he'll ever see it. ]
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(The patterns that swirl in the bell look like galaxies; Lucretia remembers standing in front of the larger Voidfish back at the Legato Conservatory and getting lost in the sheer size of them.
Then, Rin's memory comes back into focus, and Lucretia blinks, glancing over at him curiously.)
You sang for it. What was the song?
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[ The song's coming back to him now, piping into his memory like a bad dream. He smiles, robust and false, shrugging. ]
Just a lullaby. Thought your little friend might enjoy it, that's all.
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(Junior is idly above their heads, seemingly content.)
You have a lovely voice.
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[ NO FALSE MODESTY HERE. ]
You get a lot of practice when you have to sing for your supper.
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I see. Was your childhood stressful?
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You have no idea.
[ Which is a good thing. ]
I don't quite understand what drow are like where you're from, but where I'm from, none of us have an easy childhood.
[ Or anything else. ]
Such is life.
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(She knows that Taako and Lup didn't have a particularly great upbringing; but they aren't drow, and she can't speak for elves as a whole, so. She shrugs a shoulder.)
I'm sorry to hear it.
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[ He shakes his head. ]
It's fine. None of my family are here, so it hardly matters anyway.
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You're the only one from your world here, correct?
(She's been noticing that some people (her, for example) have friends and family in Quarantine, and others have none. Lucretia wonders how the portal deigns who is allowed to come and who is not.)
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Yes, and with any luck, it'll stay that way.
[ He nods at her. ]
You seem to have quite the family here, though.
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(And she misses the other half so dearly.)
I'm glad for the company.