[ braccia's shops offer an endless amount of adventure, peeks into the new and unusual. as luck would have it, alina's own space is nothing but a little slice of art in the cityscape — a cornershop owned by the ti'shaaz collective, decorated with enchanted jewels that glitter like starlight and paintings enchanted to move and speak. and, as fate would have it, bordered by a music store that seems to operate at all hours of the day, alive with soft notes that filter through the walls.
it's curiosity, mostly, that leads her into it one day — and maybe just a small splash of dread over her personal mission. it's fine, really. something that should be no greater deal than the shameful guilt still burdening her from the last mission, carrying the knowledge of what she had done with her. something ... lighter, that doesn't come with the consequence of wondering if any shred of her is as tainted by greed as the darkling.
that doesn't lessen the embarrassment already clenching in her chest, though. her artistic skills begin and end with a brush on canvas or a pencil on paper, and even the former is a relatively new experience with a learning curve. she's halfway to leaving the shop to return another day, with more of an idea of what she's searching for, after aimlessly circling around instruments — when peter's playing rings through the room, different from any arrangement she had ever heard during her brief stint in os alta.
she has the sense to wait patiently, awkwardly hovering off to the side, as she waits for him to finish. once he does, she carefully picks at the long feathered scarf around her neck, making sure it remains in place when she shuffles up to the side of the piano. ]
What song was that? [ oh. hm. maybe she's interrupting. alina's smile turns immediately apologetic. ] Sorry, I've just never heard anything like it.
4.0
it's curiosity, mostly, that leads her into it one day — and maybe just a small splash of dread over her personal mission. it's fine, really. something that should be no greater deal than the shameful guilt still burdening her from the last mission, carrying the knowledge of what she had done with her. something ... lighter, that doesn't come with the consequence of wondering if any shred of her is as tainted by greed as the darkling.
that doesn't lessen the embarrassment already clenching in her chest, though. her artistic skills begin and end with a brush on canvas or a pencil on paper, and even the former is a relatively new experience with a learning curve. she's halfway to leaving the shop to return another day, with more of an idea of what she's searching for, after aimlessly circling around instruments — when peter's playing rings through the room, different from any arrangement she had ever heard during her brief stint in os alta.
she has the sense to wait patiently, awkwardly hovering off to the side, as she waits for him to finish. once he does, she carefully picks at the long feathered scarf around her neck, making sure it remains in place when she shuffles up to the side of the piano. ]
What song was that? [ oh. hm. maybe she's interrupting. alina's smile turns immediately apologetic. ] Sorry, I've just never heard anything like it.