QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

[abardacttofollow]

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.))

Comments

[twicebonded]

I can't imagine why he wouldn't want to be here. What with the pleasant atmosphere.

[drops the music on the scale]

[abardacttofollow]

Click.

The teacher winces a little. "Well... even so, he'll only hurt his own chances. But not this time."

[twicebonded]

He'll hurt his own chances if he's not flawless in the face of prejudice? Is that what we're learning these days?

[abardacttofollow]

"If he doesn't show up or hand things in? I have to weigh things fairly." He's sweating under the collar.

[twicebonded]

Oh, yes. All in the interest of fairness.

[I'm fucking done with this conversation. heads onwards]

Performance 2

[abardacttofollow]

The next is a shared dorm room, small and cozy, with something like corking up all over the walls. It makes it not the prettiest room, but it's very quiet. Even that background music that won't stop is muffled here.

There are two twin beds crammed in, with a small desk beside each. Both desks are absolute messes of writing utensils and musical instruments and parchment. One bed is made up like it hasn't been slept in, while the other is all rucked up and has a sweet, but slightly sweaty, scent coming from it.

A young man is here—a much younger Medren, brown hair at an awkward length and his shoulders just a little too big for his current form. He's maybe twelve or thirteen at most. He's plinking away at a song on a gittern and laughing about it, the sound warm.

As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it.

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

[twicebonded]

Oh. Hello, little nephew.

[managing to calm down a little, letting some of his anger seep away at seeing Medren]

[abardacttofollow]

"Hello, remarkably little uncle," Medren says cheerily.

[twicebonded]

I'm just here to try to help out Stefen.

[abardacttofollow]

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it. Let me know if I can help!"

[twicebonded]

[looks around the room, thoughtful]

May I borrow your gittern for just a moment?

[abardacttofollow]

"Sure." He hands it over.

[twicebonded]

[gently tries placing that on the scale]

[abardacttofollow]

It clicks. "That was quick!" Medren says. "Do you think it's the music?"

[twicebonded]

Hmm. Well, it's yours, specifically, isn't it?

[abardacttofollow]

Medren looks a little embarrassed, but beams. "Suppose it is."

[twicebonded]

[a pause]

Do you know I'm his lifebonded?

[abardacttofollow]

Medren blinks, then beams, gets up, and throws his arms around Vanyel.

"Congratulations."

[twicebonded]

[—a startled noise, then a little laugh as he squeezes Medren, careful]

I'm—happy.

[abardacttofollow]

"I'm so glad," Medren tells him. "You're the two people most deserving of happiness that I know. I'm glad you found it together."

[twicebonded]

You've been a great support.

. . . I need to move on, though. Thank you . . .

[ruffling Medren's hair lightly before he steps into the next area]

[abardacttofollow]

You enter a room that is… remarkably small, actually. There's just barely room for you to stand facing seven intimidating figures once the door is closed.

They're all tall, varying between middle age and elderly, and all dressed in a brilliant scarlet. The cord runs through the room and then up, being held by the man in the center of the seven. Of course, it's the bardic council, led by Dellar. He's got a face like a lumpy potato, with a mouth that looks like he could eat an entire loaf of bread in one bite, and bright, black eyes. He is holding a key in his other hand.

"Well," he says, grinning absurdly, "I don't suppose you can tell me what the weight of duty is?"

[twicebonded]

Oh, I do have my own ideas, but I expect you'd be able to tell me all about your impression of it, too.

[abardacttofollow]

"Well, mostly, what kind of Bard would he make? What sort of attention to duty does he bring? Will he, you know, cause a scandal. He's been terribly scandalous as a student."

[twicebonded]

[smile going a little sharp]

Boring people seldom make history. But I hardly think that reflects on his ability to sing about it.