[PRP] A Bird in a Gilded Cage (Ink & Lucayr)

[Teiha]

He sat back against the tree’s trunk with one leg dangling lazily from the branch he'd occupied, the Harper tall and slender, tawny of hair and dressed in a fitted leather vest with pyrographic etchings, a black samite tunic, slim black slacks, and a deep blue silken scarf wrapped about his neck. Across his chest lay the gitar whose strings he skillfully plucked, his smokey tenor ebbing and flowing for all in the courtyard who might take pleasure from it.

He sang of beautiful places he had been; the grey heaviness of the fog over the vast mountains of High Reaches; the pungent scent of the ocean and laughter of dolphins at Tillek; a quiet night lying in the whispering grass at Landing, the broad sky filling his vision with a multitude of crystalline stars; the sound of thunder as herds of horses galloped across the green flatlands of Telgar. It was a song dear to him, and his emotions at seeing such beauty would have been evident in his tone. Wonder… delight… solace… freedom.

It was his wanderlust that had now brought him to this place. Perhaps it was not the most unique or beautiful of locations to offer his services for lodging, a meal, and a few marks, but something about it brought his inquisitive nature to the forefront. Something perfectly novel was going on under the Lord Holder’s roof, and this harper would be up to his neck in it in no time.

Mx Cherie

 

[Teiha]

Before their voices had weaved through the next chorus, that dulcet alto had already given the harper the answer he was expecting. He was unapprised of the details, of course, but the essence of the situation was there. Oh, he’d been involuntarily accosted by many a Lady when her Lord wasn’t looking, but those women were hardly in harm’s way. More often than not, they were just bored and happened to find his rakish looks and admittedly sultry voice a bit more fascinating than was proper. This one, this wintry woman who had solemnly gathered up her skirts and bent her knees in an elegant formal curtsy before him and her Lord… she was something distinctly set apart from, and above those others. He had known something was amiss the moment their eyes met—hers dark and despairing, and his golden with feline curiosity.

The song of wanderlust ended and the harper smoothly transitioned into another song, a lesser-known tune about a female Northern Maned Cat. It sounded like a child’s fancy, but, when performed in the right key, it was haunting.

From the forest came another
A stranger to her pride
A whip-like cat with long, long legs
And oddly-spotted hide.

This spotted cat was menaced by the much-larger maned cats, with its strange markings and elongated body shape so foreign to what they knew. Only one female out of the entire pride was kind to him, and gave him food. This female had been the odd one out in her own family for some time, feeling as if there were something more that she was meant for, and was always being told that she must set aside those fantasies and work hard so that she could take her place as the queen of the pride someday. Ominously, it was at heart a song about maintaining the status quo—something that had been requested in many of the holds the harper had visited in his tenure, especially where a lord’s wayward daughters were involved. But there was a verse in there that he hoped the pale woman knew. A verse that could hold the key to this musical conversation if she understood its purpose.

And, he supposed, she would.

Mx Cherie

 

[Teiha]

She did know the song! And how well she understood the she-cat… the harper closed his eyes, listening to the exquisite pain of her broken heart being spilled out over the uncomprehending crowd in courtyard. Such a waste, that they would never know the true meaning of what their ears heard! He sat up as her voice faded, having sensed her warning. But not one beat did he miss, picking up the next verse as easily as breathing. It was well that the song was uncommon, for anyone acquainted with it would know that he had changed the entire verse:

To her heart he spoke the words
“You do not love your king.”
Then the cat confessed to her
“I am not what I seem.”

Then the cat was cloaked with light
Revealing his true frame
Not a cat—a bird was he!
“And Freedom is my name.”

Golden eyes locked on the window, where they had not dared to focus before.

“From your heart you plead for aid
And caused me here to be
If I give you your own wings,
Would not you fly with me?”

Mx Cherie

 

[Teiha]

He gazed up at her, this woman so fair, so noble… so sad. There were no more words, only the final melancholy notes of the gitar. His fingers, almost of their own accord, drifted slowly across the strings and became still. A few moments more, and the sound of applause broke the spell.

The harper stood up on the branch and acknowledged the audience below with a sweeping bow. His smile was bright and his voice merry as he thanked the people and told them when and where he would perform next: in Lord Redrick’s dining hall, two nights hence. He then descended from his perch with a nimble hop and crossed the courtyard, sparing not another glance toward the window that had held his attention so.

This stuffy little hold had gotten ever so much more interesting; he planned to stick around for a while.

Mx Cherie