abardacttofollow | QUIET MOUNDS

Entry tags:

QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

You find yourself in a stone room that looks like some sort of medieval dungeon. There are (thankfully), no torture instruments, but there is a man strung up here. One large manacle is around his neck, chaining him stiffly to the door. His hands are free, but each foot is manacled to the matching bottom corner of the doorframe. There is a visible lock on each of the three manacles.

It's Stefen, and there's a knife in his chest. Despite that, he's alive, apparently alert, and doesn't look to be in pain, perhaps due to the lulling, sense-dulling music that seems to be coming from nowhere at all—in fact, if you were in pain before you entered, it's gone here. His wound is bleeding, but only a little, and he smiles his usual bright smile at you.

Behind him, but in front of the closed door he's bound to, you can see three double sets of strings running vertically. Where they meet the floor, they are fastened, and then each runs across the floor to the three doors on the opposite wall, then under them.

There is nothing else in this room.

((OOC: Here's how this will work! Since we're doing individual runs, rather than me putting up individual top levels for areas, just jump the post itself, and I'll run everything for you within your one thread. If you're wanting to do a run with someone else, just stay in the same thread together.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

:I believe you will get there. Good luck, child.:

[heads back through to older!Stefen!]

He looks up again, tucking some coins out of his rag bedding and into his pockets.

:Sorry about that. How are your legs--?:

"They're not cramping anymore."

:Good. I hope the extra coin helps.

I-- wanted to make sure you knew something else. About the music. This will sound farfetched to you, but there's an opportunity that you could take, studying music with a very rich woman's Bards, that would get you out of here.

It would be hard work-- service to your learning, in a very literal sense, for many years-- but you would be fed, and protected. And you could use your music to make people happier.:

"That sounds... that sounds wonderful. Just... impossible."

:You already do make people happier, don't you? The tips you get for your songs...:

Stefen considers that, blushing. "I'd like... to do that more."

:You're a kind person, Stefen. Will you at least come speak to the Talentfinder? You can take any precautions you like.

...you can leave anything your companion might need, as well.:

"I don't have anything to leave to her," he says. "She's taken everything I haven't stolen."

:I'll leave her my good wishes, then. ...I'll be glad to see you out of this place.:

[swishes her tail with a sigh, considering the occupant of the rag pile, then moves back through the door with a tiny headshake; moving slowly enough that Stef can decide to follow or not]

Stef follows.

[Yfandes only gets close enough to Lynnell that she can clearly see that Stef is with her before firmly turning to block Lynnell's view of Stefen behind her flank; protecting him like one of her foals. politely enough]

:Bard Lynnell, if you wouldn't mind, could we have a song as well? So that young Stefen can hear that you're truly to teach him music.:

[guessing that if Stef hears a full Bard sing or play he won't care where he has to go to have even a chance to learn that, tbh]

:Only a short one.:

Edited 2017-08-06 08:16 (UTC)

Lynnell seems somewhat confused about the necessity, but, "I don't see how it could hurt." She launches into a historical ballad.

Stefen, as anticipated, is transfixed.

[...noses him towards her in between his shoulderblades when the song ends, gently]

:Thank you very much, Bard Lynnell. This is Stefen, the boy you heard about.:

"H-hello," Stef mumbles.

"Hello, Stefen," Lynnell says. "Will you come with me?"

Stefen nods, and glances back at Yfandes for a moment. But he doesn't seem to know what to say, so he ducks his head and scurries on.

[you were a sweet kid, baby Stefen

goes to take the key from Lynnell before she goes, though it feels a bit like a finder's fee and she snorts a tiny snort at it before she takes it]

You get paid for the child you delivered.

[THANKS NARRATION. returns to the main room then :'|!!!]

:This is the first--?:

The first of three! That'll do my left foot. Er. If that's... not too awkward. If it is, leave it with me and I'll see what I can manage.

:I'll leave it with you for now, my dear. If you can't reach, I'll try again when I return.:

[keys are hard when you're a horse]

:Which is the next room--?:

Well, no real order, but Performance is sort of. Chronologically next? As far as the metaphor is chronological.

:That was what I meant; thank you.:

[Performance next it is!!]

You find yourself in a medieval classroom in some sort of large, palace-like environment (something like this), with stained glass in the windows and old desks all lined up, slates on each. All of the desks have a different boy or girl wearing brown sitting in it—mostly boys— except for one desk in the very middle, which is empty. All the boys are whispering to each other, a soft, background susurration. The cord runs through the middle of the room and under the locked door behind the teacher's lectern.

The teacher is a handsome young man in red, who is checking a mark on his candle to confirm the time and is sighing. "Well, it looks like Stefen's got himself tied up—" there are titters from the classroom. "—So let's begin. He won't like what it does to his marks, I promise you that. If his work isn't done…"

He doesn't finish whatever threat or promise he's thinking of, just clears his throat and begins to teach a lesson on compositional theory.

The door behind the lectern is closed and locked, and there is a scale set next to it, clearly attached to the door in some way.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of security?"

[pricks her ears in interest. a repeating theme, is it...

wanders over carefully to examine that empty middle spot, not interrupting]

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Re: Composition 3

Performance 1

Re: Performance 1