Kvothe | The Kingkiller Chronicles (kvothethearcane) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2013-09-11 22:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | kvothe, laura hale |
WHO: Kvothe and OPEN (multiple threads welcome)
WHAT: Kvothe is at the tavern, playing music.
WHEN: Wednesday evening
WHERE: George's Taverna
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: Open Open Open! and Ongoing
There was a bit of a spring in Kvothe's step as he entered the tavern, his eyes bright with excitment. He'd played here a few days already, and while it wasn't much like the taverns he played in Imre, it was good enough in its own way, and his reception had been warm. There'd been some requests, for songs he'd had to learn (which was a strange feeling, as in his world, the Edema Ruh knew all the stories). He'd spent several hours trying to figure out how to play the songs that they'd requested on his lute (horrible songs, the lot of them, but wasn't it the job of a trouper to make his audience happy?), and he was more or less satisfied with some of them. At least they sounded the way they were supposed to.
He smiled at the innkeeper and ordered himself a glass of water, taking it to the raised podium with the chair where he usually played. It wasn't all that crowded yet, but he knew enough songs to play until the place closed if he wanted to, and he yearned to lose himself in the music. It was his escape, his freedom, his sanity, and in this place he needed it more than he had in some time. He wasn't sure what he would have done had his lute not showed up with him. It wouldn't have been pretty. But there it had been, safely in the apartment they had given him, in the fancy case that Denna had given him.
Once settled in the chair, he couldn't help but relax. He was on stage, performing, and every bit of his heart and soul felt at home here. It was where he belonged, perhaps more than anywhere else in any world.
He fiddled for a moment with the tuning knobs until the chord rang true, then tested a few other before his quick fingers fell into a rendition of Tinker Tanner. The first time he had played it here, he had been shocked that the fact nobody had known it. None of the verses. Not one. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, with how different this place was, but it was a visceral shock that had nothing to do with logic or reason. He had taken it on himself to play it every time he got the chance - having people who knew that song, at least, would make him feel far more at home.
Lost in his music, even a song this easy, he felt the stress, the unease, the fear melt from him as his voice and the lute formed the pure and completed chords, and the song he had known since he was a tiny child transformed the air around him into something fonder, and more familiar.
After a dozen verses, he ended the song, his face glowing, and his eyes twinkling as he looked around the place and stood and bowed rather over-dramatically for the small smattering of applause he received.
Then he fell into song after song, losing track of the time and everything but the cathartic and familiar sound and feel of his fingers on the strings of the lute and the performance he made of each song.
When he finally finished, he looked up and smiled again, before standing and going to the bar to get himself something else to drink.