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 Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:11 pm
 And there you stood beside
And there my body yearned
And there we watched the sunset
And there a fire burned
And there we spoke of nothing
And there left things unsaid
And there that moment found me
And there it formed a thread
And there that thread connected
Though your end was never tied
And there that love I locked away
And there it still resides.
In the darkened canopy, Sequoia was humming the ending trails of his tune. Stolen away in a darker branch that showed fragments of lighter shades of gray from the stiffing canopy above that seemed to wipe all ideas of there being a sun and that almighty bother Helios from a Sentinels mind to that of dream things. Still, Sequoia was sunshine in himself with his bright yellow plumage, decorated in the same fashion as similar songbirds where and clearly showed he was of no stealthy profession. Then again, his songs and general nature said as much. Despite the choice of poetry that came from him, the subject matter something that bleed from a constant heart wound, he was still very much in a optimistic and calm spirit. He had found himself resting after a flight and had been so swept up by how lovely the day was, in the quite of the leaves that swayed and the distant scurry of forest animals that he felt himself winded up to sing once more. He did not start out on a strong tone, not wanting to disturb the peace that had inspired him, but as his song progressed, his volume and the song was brought to life, with afflictions in tone and a pouring emphasis that seemed to show he wanted to strain every meaning he could on each syllable. At the end note, his half open eyes slowly moved open and his ruffled chest feathers flattened and he seemed to deflate after the song that had brought him to life. The peace and quite returned and he sat on the branch, shifting his weight. He’d add another verse, but in this case, the song had it’s conclusion and he had to think of another.
"Such a pity. I made it too short."
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:27 pm
Quiet and peaceful, for once, Char had been resting, eyes closed and hunkered down in the deep shade. Here was a place of peace, where few came, and time moved with slow swirls and shining dust motes in slim rays of sunlight.
He loved it.
Always was the cacophony of voices and music, art and song and story, the shift and heat of a hundred feathered bodies, all together. But here was peace, here was silence, here was safety alone in the forest, yet not far from the places of fastness.
...until somebody started singing.
At first Char had flexed his toes, annoyed, but then his bard's instinct had kicked in. Besides, Char was too old to throw a temper tantrum, no matter how much he wanted to. A sad song, who knew? And so, as it ended, Char shook himself out of his lethargy and spoke.
"A fine voice," Char called out, as full of sourness and vinegar as ever, "...have you ever had a teacher?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:41 pm
Sequoia had never encountered anyone in this district of the woods. It was quite and usually just a hunting ground at time, where Sentinels would quickly pass by for a meal. For that reason, most did not want to ruin a chance at getting dinner by chit chatting, which was why Sequoia knew he would find that mystical peace so deep in the woods. It was that consuming quite that made the stranger’s voice carry and startled Sequoia to hear it so loudly as it carried undisturbed by the tiny distant chirps of birds or scurries of rodents in the shrubbery down below. The Artisan puffed, flustered as he started to dance in a circle on the branch he was on, looking out with wide, golden eyes to whomever had called.
He was unsure who or what it was and part of him wondered if it was a fabrication of his mind, as he often wondered if or better yet, when, his mentality would break. So how did you address a stranger or a possibly imagined voice? Probably politely and truthfully. Not the best in hearing, he made a vague guess to where the voice came from and facing it, breathed deep. “ No apprenticeship….if you mean that. My mother was the bard, Jasmine.” He said, and felt flustered at a thought. If this was not a trick of his mind, someone had been listening to his song, and he became self conscious to any critic that might possibly be about. Maybe a imagined voice in my head would have been better?
Well, he had to find out what it was. Phantom or Sentinel. Real or thought up. “Excuse me, but I can’t see you. Can I ask who I’m talking to?” He said, yelling out his answer as he hardly knew how far away or near the other was.
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 8:51 pm
"Oh, for the love of Noctua," Char grumbled, edging slowly from his resting-spot into Sequoia's line of sight. "I'm right here"
Frumpy as he was, Char looked good. The most recent molt had been good to him, and though his feather-tips were as ragged as ever, lopsided and the color of a grimy gray mud-spattered toad, Char's crotchety old-seeming form was a little less like a winged dust-bunny than usual.
"...no teacher, eh? Worse, and worse..." Grey-gold eyes studied the gaudy plumage before his eyes. "Well, you're fancy enough to be a bard, anyway. Sing it again."
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 9:19 pm
Sequoia had not expected the other to be so close by and he stepped back, as if wanting to make room for the other, though more because he was aware of his presence. He surely would not have done any good as a scout or watcher with his distracted vision. Still, he eased in some relief to know his mind, or ears, where playing tricks on him and that it wasn’t a nearby tree analyzing his song.
As the other approached he seemed to be rather disappointed to know that Sequoia had no teacher, making the colored male wonder if that was a compliment to how well he was singing or as if he was so horrendous that he desperately needed help. Feeling queasy at the thought, he let his wandering attention look at the other that had appeared. It wasn’t any wonder he didn’t see him, as he was a natural shadow. There was a slight sheen to his plumage, which looked clean and rather new in appearance, though the ends looked worn and curled, splitting at angles and having a dotted patchwork of grays that it looked like the Shadow’s color had been worn or even washed away at the ends. An interesting effect that made Sequoia keep in mind incase he wanted to try something new when he wanted to test his dyes. A faded effect of spots. Still, as much as he had dyed plumage, he hadn’t seen one such as this.
Noticing he was staring, he shot his attention at the other spoke, locking eyes. As the other spoke, telling him to recite, he suddenly had a washing feeling of being in the spotlight and being inspected by a teacher. Was he a bard? He never saw him about before. Then again, Sequoia visited bards but did not congregate with them or go to the teacher to practice. He was more on the lines of freelancing.
Blinking, he felt a twitter at reciting. “You want me to say it again? Oh well…let me see here. …I…” He wasn’t use to having to repeat a piece of work. He usually just sang it as it came to mind and then left it for the wind, going on to another. Once it was completely spoke, he usually didn’t recite it again.
So how did that go…?
Making a ‘ahem’ to clear his throat, he breathed a soothing breath and started.
“ And there you stood beside
And there my body yearned
And there we watched the sunset
And there a fire burned
And there we spoke of nothing
And there left things unsaid
And there …
And there that moment found mee…..
Oh! And there it formed a thread!
And there….
And there….that thread….
…that thread…uh… Oh for the life of him. A rhyme! A rhyme! Think Sequoia. Think!
“and there…and th-there that th-thh- threaddd……connect?” What did it connect to?
“And there that thread connect
around a beating heart? Oh, no. That wasn’t it. Just give me a moment.
Um…..thread…thread… Sequoia was growing more and more into a ball of fluff as he winced his eyes shut and concentrated.
“thhee…thhee…the-re—re-- re-re---” Oh curses. Now he was stuttering. The thread didn’t connect with a heart. And he knew he finished off with resides. Sides? Flies? Ohh. He had it just a moment ago!
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Posted: Sat Feb 16, 2008 9:29 pm
Char sighed, by way of an ending, interrupting the ragged end of the song.
"Well, perhaps not so bad. I thought there was no hope for bards when an artisan could outsing one. Nerves, then? Terrible."
Char shifted his feet, leaning towards the erstwhile 'fluffball' with clinical interest in his eyes.
"And there that thread connected
Though your end was never tied
And there that love I locked away
And there it still resides. "
The old bird cocked his head to the side, thoughtfully. "You have...crrrr....talent, and creativity. You need a teacher."
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Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 6:07 pm
If Sequoia was stuttering now, he was tongue tied at the present. His eyes where transfixed in a daze and his beak had been ajar as the Shadow recited his work with precise accuracy and in such a sure confidence that dazzled Sequoia to no ends. Not only did someone bother to memorize his work, which he hadn’t placed on any pedestal than just a desire, a need, to express all the ranging turmoil of his wavering passions and emotions in some dire hope to work through them, tell a story he could only tell, and to give our what all his life lessons had taught so no one else would met the same folly, but to have someone pay attention, to critic, and to give their own attention to it as if it was worth in any degree, anything close to a bard’s gentle and professional art, left his speechless. There was a swelling emotion of delight in hearing it, and he watched the stranger’s beak move as he spoke with a almost eloquence in wisdom and practice before letting his vision dance up to look at the stranger’s eyes. He memorized it! (At least the end part) But to memorize it with only it spoken once, was amazing for the Artisan. Though Sequoia was amazingly well gifted in his art of dyes, and making up his own poetry, he did not do so well in memorizing what he just said. In most parts, he decided that once spoke, he moved on to the next poem, the last living for its time and now done and put to rest. It would go to the sky to where it would travel, taken with the wind. That was the imagery Sequoia gave it. It would travel to the ears of those he desired to hear.
As the Shadow finished, he broke from his dazed and excitedly shook his head. “You recited it perfectly. Amazing! You’re memory is truly top notch!” He said, taking a step closer as if to examine the secret in the stranger’s intelligence. Sequoia was almost so swept up that someone had recited a poem he couldn’t remember himself, as its creator, that he nearly overlooked the rest of what was said.
At the mention of a teacher, he flustered a bit. “I’ve never been any good for teachers. I’m only an Artisan. I haven’t had the years of training to be a bard. I have a stutter, as you see, and I still rely on a parus, Basil, from time to time to help me with it. I’m…no. I couldn’t be a bard. I only make up poetry and dear me, I can’t even remember them after I said them. That’s a terrible way to start. No the stuff of bards.” He shook his head, downgrading his poetry. It was a hobby. Surely he was no good at it. He didn’t even talk to much to the bards or recite his poetry elsewhere aside from the occasionally few, mainly Rosinweed. He was just a child in the word of Bards where most his age where practiced and admired pros.
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Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 6:23 pm
Char drew himself up to his full, shabby height.
"Are you calling me a liar?" He hissed, "A trained memory and years of practice more than you, and you think you know more than me about music, of all things!"
Char's eyes flashed darkly from his face, and he leaned forward with the practiced menace of a performer.
"I tell you, there is talent buried somewhere between those ears of yours, and I'll have it, and no arguments!"
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Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 6:50 pm
Sequoia wasn't as flustered at someone being near him, as he often invaded space himself and often hugged or nudged others out of the blue, as his joyful nature often lead him too. It was the tone he was unguarded for. The Artisan was a lover, not a fighter, and just as much as he would try and steer other's from conflicted, he did not like any ill will that might resullt in a fight involving him and others too. He liked to keep the peace and as such, didn't want to anger this new stranger.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware you where a teacher. I wasn't saying you where lair. I'm sure you know a lot more than I do. I'm sure your a superb teacher." Sequoia quickly said, holding out his wings to show he didn't mean to insult the other or make him angry. Oh, he didn't want to make anyone mad.
Throat suddenly dry, he felt his head sink in more inside his slightly fluffed body. Though the delivery was something that made him cautious, he did relieze something. He was being complemented, ....sort of. He had talent...somewhere. But a teacher with years of training had said it! He had potentinal. The idea sent little glimmers of light in his already golden eyes. Still, he wasn't sure. "You really think I'm any good?" Was that an arguement? He didn't want to make an agruement when the other said he wasn't suppose to. So he needed a teacher. Did that mean he had to scout at the Theater?
"Don't you think it's a bit too late for me to have a teacher? I already had my apprenticeship as an Artisan. I don't think anyone would want to train someone who is already graduated and has a task."
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Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 7:14 pm
Char sighed,. long-sufferingly, and leaned back with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
"You might have more fluff in your brains than that useless student of mine, Birch, and you might need more training than a three-legged skurri, but you have talent for creation."
Char surveyed him, suddenly unruffled and serene among the sunbeams. He nodded once, as if satisfied with Sequoia's expression.
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Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 8:01 pm
"Um....thanks." I think. Sequoia said with an unsure tone, thinking the last part. Wel, no reason to not accept a compliment, he guessed. At least he was being credited with creativity, and wasn't that something. Still, he felt a bit down at the idea that he had potential but from a teacher's postion, needed drastic work. It was that fact that Sequoia never really spoke his poems outright in front of an audience or to a large crowd. He didn't think he could handle anyone disecting his poetry to that of just being a mediocre bard. He knew he was sensitive to that sort of thing and his liked to think of his poetry as the children of his own creation. He worked to think them up, cherished them to their birth, and then let them go. If someone was to insult his poems, he thought that he had been a poor parent in making some disfigured and grotesque form of song and in doing so, meant, like Sentinel tradition, that they would have better off being put to death than ever being created.
Somber, he looked back at the Shadow. "So you are Birch's teacher? I didn't know." In fact, he still knew very little and thinking that this was a wrong way to go about things, smothered his feathers as best he could, nerves willing, and bowed low. "Where are my manners? My name is Sequoia. It's a pleasure to make your aqauintance and to get such fine and professional advice from someone with so much experience." He said, bowing low and in such dramatic flair that it nearly looked that if he went any farther, his beak might have just touched his toes.
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Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 3:53 am
Char smiled — a real smile, this time — and bowed as well, a graceful, flourishing thing worthy of any bard. Almost shocking tosee this rumpled, stained old bird completing such a maneuver without hurting himself, but there it was.
"I am Char, Bard and leader of the Brigadier's Bard...we often have entertainments in th Crownleaf Theatre," he paused for a moment, then seemed to regain his usual vinegar "And yes, I was Birch's teacher, much good may it do him. Noisemakers, faugh, not in my day!"
(( Char's name is pronounced "Shar" like 'shard' but without the 'd.'
hee hee he loves to complain!))
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Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 6:39 am
Char. Liked Shard. It held that sharp feel, as the name suggested, and what Char's wit further enforced. Still, it was a nice name, with the imagery of broken rainbow shards of color and fractured light. Sequoia was a sucker for words and how powerful one used could suggest so much in return. Word choice was the Mus and berries* of poetry.
As Sequoia swept himself back up to his fulll height, he nearly choked back on his own tongue, quickly inhauling as Char went into his own impressive bow. Yet, it was not the gesture of greeting in the bow he was surprised from, though he was amazed that Char held hidden elegance and grace that was not clearly visible before, but more for the fact of his added title. The Brigadier's Bards. It was the equvilant to the elites for the combat proffessions! Not only had Sequoia been critiqued by a teacher, one that had taught Birch, (He knew the bird on only short introductions and vauge memory. He often heard the clicks and jingles around the bird's territory.) but he had run into an the creme of the bard crop! Such noteity was astonishing to come accross and Sequoia looked at Char with a wrapped sense of awe. As if the Brigadier himself was talking to him now. He could feel his feathers giving a few twitches, shaking with pumping excitement and his throat running dry. How his heart was beating!
"You're the leader of the Brigadier's Bard? My word. I had no idea!! This has to be....I mean.... You must be amazing!" It was any less than having his mind connected to his tongue at this point as he barely considered to think before speaking in his swirling excitment. To be in the presence of such an outstanding Sentinel was beyond Sequoia's expectations.
*Mus and berries = Bread and Butter
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Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 12:00 pm
Char snorted, as if disgusted with the very []idea of being amazing. He was back to being a hunched dust-bird, glaring balefully at the world. "Nonsense. I'm too old to be amazing. I have better things to do...like make sure fine voices like yours aren't wasted on trees."
"Trees don't have ears, or minds. Songs should be sung to those who can un derstand them."
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Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 12:42 pm
Humble. That's what Char was, but he guessed that Char was just a unwilling to have anyone agrue against him as he was to have someone praise him. An admirable attribute deserving of someone of such a rank. He could see how Char came to such a possition. There seemed a nobility in his form, woven in his gray feathers, as if his sensible nature toned down and hide what where bound to be many virtuous qualities, just as the gleem of his wings where only slightly seen amongts his frayed feathers. Sequoia felt his chest swell in a briming sense of gratitude, to be here and be noticed. Selfish, he admitted, it was like being in the presence of the sun and feeling the rays and heat as an aftereffect. Warming. Inspiring.
Sequoia still felt his insides twitter like he had swallowed a hyper parus that was beating in hisi ribs at someone complimenting his voice. He mother, Jasmine, had commented on it that, on the day of his birth, he had a strong voice to constantly peep. But compliments from parents was something you too in simple measure. You could never tell if their pride as a parent got in the way when they praised you. To hear it from someone else...from Char, was different to say in the least, and certinaly not in a bad way. Far from it.
" I beg to differ though. " he said, somewhat low in volume. He didn't want to argue but he always believed the nature had a mind, a voice, and eyes to it. It had a supernatural quality to it. "Do not mistake that since they do not speak, they do not know, listen, or appreciate the sound of music. I sing to the woods just as they have given their songs back. Of wavering canopies and falling rain. For such inspiration, it's only natural I pay them back in song. And..I sing for those I hope will hear. Somewhere." His eyes glanced to the sky momentairly and his eyes became darkened in color, somber and panged in some glimmer, fleating cold light before turning back to Char.
"..and I've never been good with audiences. I barely sing to anyone aside from my friend, Rosinweed. I don't have a strong enough constitution, nerves that is, to sing with other people. I ruin the song with my stuttering. "
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