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tampered2007-01-18 11:34 am
henkonasuisho.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-01-18 11:34 am
Log: Ongoing
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.
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.