Seydon of Arda
Raquor'daan
~Wild Space - Baxel Sector - Teth System - Teth
[07:59:036] - The Silent Temple
Someone was playing music out on a terraced veranda on the Temple's northern slopes, at an early hour where morning twilight brooded grey and listless east with a hint of first sunrise. Throughout the evenings, the Temple inhabitants could hear a presence softly padding through the long halls of wood flooring and stone pillars, out into the gardens where furtive song could be heard in recital. It was a familiar tune, but then anything soulful felt like it'd been played a thousand times prior at some other venue. At least twice in a week, by habit or ritual, one of them woke, padded with naked feet to the meditation gardens and began to breathe into the chords of a mournful harmonica. It played for precisely twenty two seconds, then fell silent. Ambient arboreal and branchy creaks and fauna sounds followed close in on its heels. All went back to blissful normalcy, folk sleeping tightly with sound consciences.
Seroth played to ghosts in the mornings. Out before a wordless of audience of greenery and long plunging waterfalls, bespeckled with rain mist cavorting with split moment rainbows. Six-armed apes, monkeys cloaked in fur and scale, avian species uncounted and even further amphibians and traditional reptiles basked in the heat-glow of breaking light. Twilight glimmered and then dissipated entirely. The lad, dressed just in his training slacks tied taut by industrial cord, fished a dented harmonica from his pocket. It belonged to firstly a woman named Guenyvhar, and then to her teacher, Shev Rayner. And so passed to him. Seroth regarded the hard, fast passage of time prior over the year and some months. Regarded the pains and few comforts. ...Regarded @[member="Rosa Mazhar"]'s gentle falls of breath as she slept curled up in their shared Temple cot.
The boy recalled and stared out at nothing, raising the silver-plated piece to his lips and gently gusting a few notes along...
[07:59:036] - The Silent Temple
Someone was playing music out on a terraced veranda on the Temple's northern slopes, at an early hour where morning twilight brooded grey and listless east with a hint of first sunrise. Throughout the evenings, the Temple inhabitants could hear a presence softly padding through the long halls of wood flooring and stone pillars, out into the gardens where furtive song could be heard in recital. It was a familiar tune, but then anything soulful felt like it'd been played a thousand times prior at some other venue. At least twice in a week, by habit or ritual, one of them woke, padded with naked feet to the meditation gardens and began to breathe into the chords of a mournful harmonica. It played for precisely twenty two seconds, then fell silent. Ambient arboreal and branchy creaks and fauna sounds followed close in on its heels. All went back to blissful normalcy, folk sleeping tightly with sound consciences.
Seroth played to ghosts in the mornings. Out before a wordless of audience of greenery and long plunging waterfalls, bespeckled with rain mist cavorting with split moment rainbows. Six-armed apes, monkeys cloaked in fur and scale, avian species uncounted and even further amphibians and traditional reptiles basked in the heat-glow of breaking light. Twilight glimmered and then dissipated entirely. The lad, dressed just in his training slacks tied taut by industrial cord, fished a dented harmonica from his pocket. It belonged to firstly a woman named Guenyvhar, and then to her teacher, Shev Rayner. And so passed to him. Seroth regarded the hard, fast passage of time prior over the year and some months. Regarded the pains and few comforts. ...Regarded @[member="Rosa Mazhar"]'s gentle falls of breath as she slept curled up in their shared Temple cot.
The boy recalled and stared out at nothing, raising the silver-plated piece to his lips and gently gusting a few notes along...