Log: Ongoing

[henkonasuisho.livejournal.com]

When; January 18th, Noonish
Rating;G for now
Characters; Open to anyone who lives/wanders into the Opera house.
Summary; Zaheela, on her quest to find a home, stumbles upon the Abandoned Opera house and decides she needs a little time to rest.
Log;

After what had been a torturous two hour cling to the Lamp post and perhaps the most ungraceful landing she had ever encountered when the magic had mysteriously run out, Zaheela decided that she wasn’t quite in the mood to attempt such spells for a while. At least, not until she was able to locate a plethora of comfortable pillows and a suitable room to practice in. She had wandered from building to building, each one more distasteful then the rest. They were comfortable, but far too cramped for her style, the windows far too small or too narrow. The street lights all around her would make it troublesome for any nighttime gazing, and the fact that the walls were not sound proof would cause trouble for any residents who did not care for music.

Worried for her beloved mount’s health, Zaheela wondered if she was just being too picky about her housing accommodations. After all, many of the rooms did remind her of the rentable rooms of Bastok, but she never did have a good opinion of the industrial city. She needed to find a place to live or go back to the best alternative, a small room somewhere in the southern districts.

It was then when a large stone building loomed in front of her, the great marble pillars a bit cracked and Ivy hanging from the balconies. Her Curiousity now picked, she dismounted and carefully lead Eisen up the stairs. Normally she would of left him outside, but in a new city which obviously did not have many chocobos, she was a bit wary about leaving him alone.

“Hello?” her voice echoed through the hallways as she entered, the great doors creaking loudly. Her footsteps were soft on the cool marble, and Eisen seemed especially careful with his footsteps. Carefully opening a door, she peeked in, only to find, to her delight a small theater. It hadn’t been used for a while, as she could tell from the thin layer of dust, but it was cool and wide. If anything, she could allow Eisen to rest while she practiced a bit before continuing her search for a home.

She was somewhat excited with her discovery, excited enough to forget to close the door after herself. After figuring out the switch to turn on the lights, she settled Eisen down near the stage. Reaching into her small satchel, and its connecting sub dimensional pocket, she pulled out a worn but sturdy case. Setting it down, she carefully opened her instrument case and lifted the beautifully crafted Rosewood Violin and gracefully (far more gracefully then her earlier fall from the lamp post) leapt onto the stage. She decided to keep her sword latched to her waist, incase some unsavory company appeared.

Sneezing softly, she allowed her body to shift into the needed position and tucked the violin under her chin and raised her bow. Closing her eyes, she focused on the memory of the music and drew out the first crystal note. It was no sad elegy, but a playful tune, the Carol of the westward wind. The notes danced around the room and echoed through the halls, and she was lost in the music.

Comments

[sword-and-quill.livejournal.com]

Fakir looked up from the book he was engrossed in when the faint sound of music reached his ears - a voilin, if he heard right. His brows furrowed together as he listened more closely, carefully closing his book and setting it on the desk beside him.

The tone and the music were not familiar in the slightest. And that gave him a very uneasy feeling. Hadn't those...war-obsessed fools who had claimed to have appreciation for music threatened to try to move into the Opera Abandoned? He felt a rush of alarm at that thought and leapt off of the chair, grabbing his sword from behind the door as he quickly left room and headed straight for the area the music was concentrated.

If they dared to try and settle into the Opera House, he wasn't going to stand for it. He didn't care what Ahiru, Rue, Mytho, Erik, Christine, or anyone else thought. He'd forcibly drive them out right now if he had to.

Finally reaching room where the energetic violin music was coming from, he lightened his footsteps considerably. The door to the little theater was slightly ajar and that left a good chance for a surprise attack, if needed. Quietly, with practiced stealth, he crept up to the wall beside opening and peered cautiously into the room.

And his green eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight before him. Fakir was relieved to discover that the intruder was not one of the war crazy men he'd been worried about. In fact, despite the figure's back being half turned to him, he could tell it was definitely a woman - with ears and a tail. One dark eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he quickly pushed the feeling away. Whoever she was, he'd never seen her here, or even in the City for that matter. And by the looks of that weapon she had strapped to her middle, the nameless cat-woman was potentially dangerous. That was reason enough to face her.

Boldly, the ex-knight pulled the door open and stepped into the room, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Who are you and what do you want?" he demanded loudly, fixing the newcomer with his trademark glare.

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Zaheela ended the song with a flourish and turned around calmly as she gazed upon the young man in the door way. He was a handsome young man indeed, but far too proud for her tastes. With his partially torn shirt and loose pants, it was easy to see that was certainly outspoken. His eyes, a sharp, fierce olive green spoke wonders of him, but his stance was weak, pitiful really. A contradiction is what she's term him, having the proud stance of a warrior, but certainly not the sharp edge of a man who had the blood of another splashed upon his waist. From what she heard, his footsteps were heavy with the attempt to be quiet, and his hesitation to draw his blade told of his innocence. Normally she wouldn't be this haughty, but for some reason she couldn't help but tease the young man.

"And here I thought that my skills with the violin were decent." Leaning down, she carefully stored away her violin, locking the case and then standing up and started to clap.
"It took you long enough to make yourself known, Boy. I've heard drunken Orc Recruits who were quieter then you. Perhaps you should learn to buckle that swordbelt of your properly first." Her tone was sharp and teasing, and the look on his face was delightful. She mockingly bowed to the boy before lifting her head once again to watch the boy.

"Is it not protocol to introduce one self first?" She pondered out load before shruging. "But I was never one to follow the rules. My name is Zaheela Luna Rouchelette, of the House of Rouchelette." She couldn't help but smirk at his attempt to intimidate her as she stood up straight, her stance seemingly lax. "And what would Your name be Boy?"

[henkonasuisho.livejournal.com]

Eisen was Sleepy, he had walked all day with his master on his back on the painful stone. Master had played that shiny stringy thing once again and it made him sleepy, but then a young mad had caused her to stop.

Eisen was a little irrate, but when he looked at master, he could see that master was amused with the little boy. Master knew best, so Eisen would just go back to sleep....

Sleepy was good.

[sword-and-quill.livejournal.com]

When the violinist ceased her playing and turned to face him directly, Fakir blinked. Her facial features and choice of attire were unlike anything he'd ever seen before - not that it should be surprising in the City, with the amount of different people and creatures that arrived on a regular basis - but still undeniably unique, nonetheless. He continued to watch her as she spoke, putting away her instrument and rising to her feet. Fakir couldn't help but blink again. She was tall and probably considerably older than he was - therefore, more skilled in whatever weapon it was she weilded. That would put him at a disadvantage if she were to attack. Not good.

And then she clapped as she spoke up again and he scowled. What the heck was an Orc, anyway? ...And why did she keep calling him boy?! "I'm not dressed for battle," he returned heatedly at her remark about his swordbelt. He'd come down here in a rush, afterall. There was no time to primp. That was more along the lines of something Mytho would do.

Zaheela Luna-what? His expression momentarily creased in confusion. What kind of name was that?

Well, whoever she was, she seemed to be trying to mock him in every possible way, and that certainly didn't sit well with the ex-knight. Still keeping his hand safely sitatuated on his sword hilt, he re-fixed his glower of warning on the strange woman. "Fakir," he said simply, coldly. "Now tell me what it is you want or what you've come here for."

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She frowned when he had stated he was not dressed for battle. That tidbit of infomation was obvious, but any respectable warrior would ensure his blade was firmly attached to his belt. It just proved how much more innocent he was, like a little boy claiming to be brave just by swinging his father's sword.

However, the emotions flickering across his face was terribly amusing to her. It showed with the enormous grin that sprouted on her face. With an easy going shrug of her shoulders, she turned away from him partially and tilted her head, a sly smile on her face.

"To play the fiddle, I shall, to Sing a song, a tune, a melody of enchantment. For no reason other then my love I sing, the song of praise to the bardly ways." She sung in a teasing tone, her voice echoing once again through out the room. "For it why I am here..."