Zelgadis Grayweir: Topic: Neighhbors
It jolts him upright when he hears it- the quiet tinkling of a metal windchime. Yet another damn windchime. And he knows just where it's coming from too. The neighbors to the south of them, an elderly couple named Fitzwilliam, have some damn fetish for the things. Perhaps it's their age that has prevented them from taking the hint that the only acceptable windchime is a wooden one, all hollow clunks. That one still hangs in their back garden in the arbor over their breakfast table. The others have all disappeared. Not that Zel has any idea how, of course.
But there it is again and Zel's back goes ramrod-straight. It's just too damn close to the sound of Rezo's walking staff, metal rings clinking to tell others that a blind man was approaching, metal rings that had rung far too often against the side of Zel's head or across his back. If he was lucky that would be the only thing the sound of the staff heralded, but if not....
Zel still heard that staff in his nightmares, his body tensing with every remembered or imagined ring. He'd be damned if he had to listen to it (or anything even remotely close to it) when he was awake too. Growling under his breath, he waited until the couple went out in their shuffling steps on their evening walk then he levitated over the fence between the two properties and took the cheery bronze sun and its dangling accompaniment of clouds and vindictively melted it in his hand. The twisted but finally silent mass of metal was then tossed with a quiet word of offering into the ocean. Deep-Sea Dolphin should at least appreciate the way it sparkles.