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[Despite Rialynn's initial decision to stay firmly on the soil of Fayren, where she didn't have to worry one bit about the insane creations and whirring machines of every other city, her inherent and insatiable curiosity has led her to poke her head out more than once since she first arrived. The music festival had definitely given her incentive enough to explore, and that hadn't been a bad experience at all.]

[So when she eventually comes trotting through the archway, carrying far too many instruments on her back and in her arms, she only gets a TINY bit nervous. No one looks at her twice -- honestly, even with her bright performer's costume with the silk streamers and flared skirts, she's not the weirdest thing to come traipsing down the street. ...Especially after the big ol' brain in a jar zoomed down the avenue.]

[To her dismay, it's raining in Genessia City, and it isn't long before her bandanna tails hang heavy. This won't be good for the instruments, which means she has to keep them wrapped up in the tarp sacks she purchased. It's so strange, to go from sunshine to drizzle with just a few short steps.]

I don't think I'll ever get used to that...

[She sighs and casts her gaze around the plaza. There don't seem to be all that many covered spaces she can use, but people do still walk the streets, some with umbrellas, some without. Well. Maybe being drenched will earn her pity coins? If she's going to buy that horse she so desperately needs, then she just has to square her shoulders and tough it out. A little rain didn't hurt anyone, and if it gets too miserable (or unprofitable), she'll just head back to Fayren and try the inn again.]

[Setting down her bundles, Rialynn straightens and rolls her shoulders, taking a deep breath. She hums a scale to test her throat, clears it, and starts to sing an old sea chanty.]

There were three brothers in merry Stoutland
In merry Stoutland there were three
And they did cast lots which of them should go, should go, should go...
And turn robber out on the salt sea...

The lot it fell first upon Henry Martin
The youngest of all of the three
That he should turn robber out on the salt sea, the salt sea, the salt sea...
For to maintain his two brothers and he...

[Her voice is strong and clear, and she doesn't flinch as the rain collects on her lashes or slides down her cheek. Internally she curses, because this song is much better when she can play the fiddle, but it's acceptable for a solo vocal performance. Besides, a nice gloomy song on a rainy day seems fitting enough.]

[An overturned hat with a drooping wet plume is set out, filled with a few coins that she put there herself in hopes of collecting more. Any who pass by and drop a dime or two receive a sunny smile from the bard and an elegant sweeping bow to show her gratitude, but the song never breaks.]

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[It is indeed raining, and that's a terrible day to have taken off from Genessia General, but he has indeed.

Thankfully Arro does enjoy keeping an umbrella at work for just such an occasion, and is holding it to keep the rain at bay when he hears singing? While that's nothing new; he's more so used to people doing it in an organized setting or on the network for fun. This sounds practiced, and quite controlled.

Following to the source...which is actually a few blocks away thanks to better than human hearing, Arro steps into view, holding the umbrella as he listened. Deciding that yes, the performance was worth some redbills, he deposits a few into her hat and continues listening.

As the song continues, he deposits a few more and eventually offers her the umbrella.]

[The first offering gets her usual reaction: a smile and a bow. She still double takes at the blue hair, but not as dramatically as she might have before thanks to meeting Trunks. The second drop of bills causes her brows to arch a bit. People usually don't do that, but she's grateful, so there's the smile and the bow, all the while singing her song.]

[When she finishes and he offers the umbrella, Rialynn grins and holds up her hand.]

I'm all right. You'll need that to get home, won't you?

[Especially if he's wearing spectacles, those seem like a pain to keep dry in this weather.]

I do well enough, with or without an umbrella~

[Also flashing a grin, He makes a bow for her before he then tucks the umbrella hook in his arm to applaud.]

A wonder summertime performance~ Though I admit the venue might be improved with a roof. Now, perhaps we can get you inside somewhere warm so you can start drying out.

A roof?

[She starts to glance up, and immediately regrets it. She squints, trying to blink the rain out of her eyes.]

I suppose I can't find an argument for that. Still, the foot traffic is pretty good here.

[Already she made quite a bit, but she owes a lot of that to Arro's generosity. Still... She's getting pretty cold, and it seems like she's got enough to pay room and board with some extra she can set aside for that horse. Rialynn debates for a moment. No one else is sticking around waiting for another song, so...]

...Agreed. I can call it a day. Thank you for your patronage, sir.

[She picks up the hat and scoops out the coins and soggy bills, transferring them to a leather pouch that she cinches to her waist. Giving the hat a shake, she plunks it onto her head and gathers up her instruments.]

Farewell!

[He suppresses a snicker as she looked up. At least her singing is spot-on. Looking around as well to see no one else remaining, he watches her with interest as she gathers up everything, and makes a casual assumption that she is very, very used to going it alone. Still, the rain doesn't seem to be letting up, and if she did have anything that wasn't soaked yet; it soon would be unless she got out of the elements for a time.]

Miss?

[Arro asks, clearing his throat, and giving a pause to make sure she was going to wait.]

Would you join me for lunch?

[If Arro has ever seen a deer caught in the headlights, or a canary paralyzed by the stare of a cobra... That's pretty much Rialynn's face right there as she hunches frozen over her tarp-wrapped instruments. She clutches one a little tighter than she means to. *TWANG.*]

Uh...

[She busies herself collecting everything and settling them in place, whether it's on her back or in her arms and rises to her feet.]

That's really nice of you to offer, but I need to...um...polish my lute and make sure it didn't take on any water, so...

[She's taking little cross-sideways steps in the direction of Fayren's gate.]

But thank you! I just... My lute. It's a good lute.

[He has indeed seen that reaction, and follows her step for step as she starts moving.]

Oh? You play the lute, lovely~ I play the cello and piano myself.

[He then scoots just a bit faster to start cutting her off. Dealing with a Runner tended to be serious business.]

If you're going to check for water; we should do that now; most strings don't have inner protection from water and we'll want to start drying it immediately, Miss~ Plus if it's that good of a lute, I'd like to see it.

[She pivots toward him instinctively at the mention of the bigger instruments she doesn't have much opportunity to play, sorely tempted.]

[BUT RUNNING...]

[Her footsteps are erratic as she wrestles with her extreme love for all things music and the desire to escape. Hngh...]

Well...it's dry in Fayren, you could look at it there.

[If it's somewhere open and very much NOT an intimate location, then that might work. Besides, he seems nice enough. She just doesn't want to give the wrong impression.]

[As Michael Tolcher wisely said: playing in the rain is worth catching cold. Rialynn isn't the only one dressed wildly inappropriately. Ted flit through the rain when his ear's caught by the melody. Rarefied patron of the arts that he is, Ted tacks his way on over to hear the full song.

His neutral face results from contradictory moods. On the one hand, he likes singing, and her voice was very pretty. Namur would probably enjoy the sea shanty, and the thought of him singing anything was enough to make him laugh by itself. On the other, it was a dolorous tale with a bad ending, which Ted naturally didn't like. Maybe there's more to it. He remains until she's finished.]

...Interesting tale, miss. Was that, er, an economic metaphor, or something?

[It isn't often that members of the audience ask questions between songs. As the foot traffic is light, she supposes a minor intermission can't hurt before she chooses her next performance. This fellow looks to be in the mood for something else in any case.]

No metaphors, good sir, just history. The tale of a privateer who turned to piracy. The original song is much longer, but many of the verses have been lost to time.

[She bows slightly, arms spread.]

Perhaps you'd care to select the next song? Or perhaps you're in the mood for a story?

[History? It was real? How very sad. That puts him in the mind for novelty. He'll place a few red bills her way anyway.]

What blackguards pirates are, eh? A story would be lovely.

You'll find no argument from me on the matter.

[She grins and bows again in thanks for his patronage.]

Very well. As the sad ballad of Henry Martin failed to please you, something more merry, perhaps!

[Rialynn's feet move to tap out a quick staccato beat, the loose metal plates clacking rhythmically onto the pavement and finished with one fierce stomp, and she raises her voice to gesture grandly and entice more people to come listen.]

A tale of love beneath the briny waves and turquoise waters. But not of the drowned, no, and not of the merfolk. No! This tale...is of the dolphins. A lady dolphin and her beau, swimming the sea of Sargasso. The other lady dolphins saw the two, and as you all know well, a dolphin is a creature of mischief.

[She holds her finger up with a knowing, playful smile, and mimics the arcing jumps of a dolphin with her hand.]

SO! These other lady dolphins approached the beau, and pretended at flirtation. 'Oh, how sleek you look today!' 'My, how strong your tail guides you through these jeweled waters!' 'I could listen to your chatter all the live long day!'

[Her voice rises to a squeaky octave higher as she bats her lashes and folds her hands against her cheek, all of her movements exaggerated to match the telling of her tale.]

Now, our female was a female of the jealous kind. She feigned nonchalance for as long as she could stand it, and once the other ladies had laughed and departed, she could no longer stand it. She whirled about to face her beau, and demanded of him an answer.

[Plaintively she spreads her arms wide.]

How much do you need me?
How much do you need me?
Will you stay with me until the ocean floor is dry?
If you cannot find the words that say I'm the only one you love that way
Then I guess we'll have to say goodbye

[There's another artful and rhythmic series of taps from her feet as she twirls, wet skirts swinging heavily as she finishes with a stomp, now turned about as if to face her former self where she just stood.]

Seeing the distress in the eyes of his beloved, our dear beau was deeply moved, and he gave her his reply. He said:

My love for you is wider than the wide Sargasso Sea
I have to find a way to win you, dear
I guess the atmosphere of pressure is on me!
Now how much do I need you?
How much do I need you?
I can't seem to find the words to make you stay
Just remember everything I've said
That I'll love you 'til the day I'm dead
Because I need you...like this hole in my head

[Her grin spreads wide as she delivers the final line, a finger tapped against her temple.]

[GET IT, TED? DO YOU GET THE JOKE?]

["She must know the trade well", Ted thought, to detect his displeasure so keenly. Already his ready smile returned as he watched the troubador perform, seemingly unfazed by the rain as she pantomimed.

Oh, he gets it. So help him he gets it to the max. All throughout his eyes held the steady burn of interest, engrossed in the story of the dolphins and their suprisingly heady romantic friction. Thus, he does the motion so usual to his manor: he laughs.]

Hahaha! That's well done!

[Dutifully he deposits more bills with more verve than before. Now that was a tale worth telling. It had romance, humor. Everything!]

You must be a well-traveled entertainer indeed to know such sensitive stories from the world's strange mammals. What's your name?

Rialynn, sir, and I thank you for your generosity.

[She bows with a grin. While she doesn't do well handling the majority of compliments, she does appreciate positive feedback as far as her job is concerned. If the stories are well received, and the songs leave an impact, then she's satisfied.]

Would you care for another, or will you now seek shelter from the storm? A bard profits little from an audience laid up in bed with a fever, after all!

Edited 2018-08-13 18:48 (UTC)

You're very welcome. What does "Rialynn" mean? The name's strange to my ears.

[He laughed at the concern for his health.]

Fayren has ready febrifuge; no need for worry there. Another story would be lovely. Got any about derring do? Or about a lonely hero, forced to forsake mankind for the sake of his goal?

[If she doesn't turn him down at some point he'll never leave.]

Uh...

[She seems taken aback by the question, since people don't usually want to get to know their entertainers. But it's harmless enough.]

Lake, I think. Pretty sure it's lake.

[Her boisterous voice and fancier words have disappeared since she's getting shaken out of performance mode. It snaps right back once she receives her request, however.]

The former, yes! The latter lacks the joviality you desire, sir. Which do you prefer?

Hah, rats, can't have it both ways, eh? The latter, please. I story like that would be edifying in the extreme.

[i.e. highly relevant to his interests. In case his life becomes a man against the world drama, he'd like to know how others handled it. He laughs a little at Rialynn being taken out of the moment for personal questions.]

[The request is unusually specific, but if it's a story he wants, it's a story he'll get.]

[So she tells the tale of a young man with a gift for sharpshooting with his musket, an exemplary soldier in the king's army. He falls in love with a woman, talented at alchemy, who is in the employ of a twisted genius alchemist. Blackmailed by her master who threatens to turn her out on the street, penniless, she forsakes her lover and lures him into a lab where he suffers many experiments. His body becomes unstable and, when experiencing high levels of emotion, turns into the shape of different monsters. The man is also cursed with long life, unable to age any further.]

[Guilt-ridden, his lover throws herself off a cliff to perish in the tides below. The grief-stricken man continues to fight in the name of the king, shunned by his soldiers who fear his gruesome forms, and even turned out by the king himself once the war is won for fear that the man will attempt to assassinate him and assume the throne himself. He becomes hunted. So he takes shelter in a church where a kindly priest, pitying the man, offers him sanctuary. The man seals himself away inside of a coffin to sleep, safe and undisturbed, until the world has need of him once more. When that day comes he will rise anew and strike down the wicked, the greedy, and the corrupt to bring peace to the people who despise me.]

[Now this story had everything. Except humor, save for one finding some black humor in it. And he might've liked a gratuitous fight scene or two. But everything else! He listens with rapt attention, rain dampening out all but the story. At the end, he sighs dreamily.]

That's the life, eh? Enjoying the thrills of vice and virtue alike. Pity he had to retire, but I suppose that story's awaiting a sequel. Thank you very much.

[Evidently he was very pleased, depositing not seven, but fourteen whole red bills! Don't spend it all in one place.]

'Twas a lovely tale. I'll keep an ear out for you should I pass by again, Ms. Rialynn. Good evening.

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Gypsy senses...tingling...

/reaches slowly for the fire extinguisher

/imagines rope necklace

I know what you were imagining! TWINKIES!

So typical of your kind to twist the truth; to cloud the mind with unhealthy thoughts

Even his horse is evil.

Don't you talk smack about Snowball

SNOWBALL???

canon

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