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Humming to herself, Amis sits on the ledge, Thavnairian sunlight shining on her face. Paintbrush in hand, she dips it in the pot of blue before running the bristles over her scales. Blue, yellow, red, green - bright pigments adorning her scales, making her feel every bit a songbird. The last of her scales painted, she places the brush down, closing her eyes and humming a melody to herself.
(Lovely picture of Amis being happy done by @avalon821! Highly recommended.)
Placing the purchased plaque on the door of her studio, Amisgalgüi fiddles with it for a few moments to make sure it is straight. She can't read it herself, but she trusts the seller that it says what she requires - "Amis Qalli Songwriting Services".
Satisfied that the plaque is straight and affixed firmly, the petite Xaela moves into the studio, the room soundproofed and the back half of it full of instruments. Moving over to the desk, she places down a smaller sign, this one listing her rates - rates that the signmaker nearly choked upon seeing, but Amis knows the value of her musical skill.
Finally, she takes a stack of parchments, all marked with a map of Radz-at-Han and marked with the Qalli emblem at her shop, and sets out the door, harp in hand, intending to hand them out to anybody who asks her questions about her music, as well as leave a stack at the nearby inn.
Maybe with these accoutrements, she will get some more customers in - she always does love getting colourful and unique customers, all wanting their own styles of music, and she can write them all.
((This is an open RP I'm putting up! If anybody wants to have a mute Qalli write them music, please feel free to respond! She is mute and illiterate, but she's quite clever and she wants to write your songs!))
Formalwear Poll: Amis
I have gotten bored, and I am doing a series of polls judging what kind of formalwear my characters look better in. Participate, if you want?
Does Amis look better in:
A dress
A suit
Sitting cross-legged on the crate, Amis looks out over the water. In her hands, held delicately, is her newest instrument.
"You always come back here every year for me," sang her mother, voice rising and falling in the unmistakable cadence of a Qalli, "but I never have a chance to gift you for your nameday."
"So over the past year, since your last visit, the entire tribe contributed to making you this. Your very own morin khuur. If you cannot lift your voice in song with us, we will use our hands to make you a voice, to go with all the others you have found."
"Please know, my beloved Amisgálgüi, that even though you no longer live amongst us, you are still my daughter, and I still love you. Even if the voice with which you greet the dawn is one of string and wood and metal, please know that you are Qalli. Your soul is song, and your blood is song, and you are song. You are Qalli."
Tears running down her cheeks, Amis slowly draws the bow across the strings of horsehair, greeting the dawn with the same song that, far away, she knows her mother sings each morning.
~~~~~
Once again, much thanks and apologies for not using these sooner to the immaculate @aurelia-polyps! Go check them out, they're a treat.
What are some minor things that get your characters riled up? Like pet peeves, spots of pride they don’t like being poked, etc
Amis hates, more than anything, being mistaken for a Qestir.
This is a very common mistake that a lot of non-Xaela make, and generally they don't mean anything by it.
But Amis is Qalli. She is striving, every second of every day of her life, to be Qalli. A Qalli without voice, but she has found song in every beat of her heart, in every instrument she can make play without breath.
She is NOT Qestir, and she may beat you over the head with a drumstick if you make the mistake.
Numb fingers running over the strings in her hands, she plays.
Overhead, the sky burns.
In front of her, the people dance. There is food.
Spirits are high.
Her vision swims black.
She grits her teeth and launches into the next song, a quick jig.
Her music rolls from the stage, lifting the spirits of all who hear it against the bleak and crushing miasma of the Final Days.
Next to her, a Miqo'te leads the dance.
Amis's chest burns as she struggles for breath.
Still she plays.
~
Gasps from the crowd make her blink blearily, forcing her gaze to focus.
The people have stopped dancing.
Instead, they all are staring upwards, smiles on their faces, pure sunlight streaming down upon them.
Sunlight. From a blue sky.
Letting her harp clatter to the stage from numb fingers, some distant part of her mind screaming at the damage the instrument might accrue, Amisgalgüi walks shakily to the very edge of the stage.
Looking down at the crowd of people - safe people, untransformed people - the Xaela bows.
Holding her bow, she hears more than one person rushing towards her with water.
And the exhaustion of playing for weeks with only the most minor of sleep or sustenance claims her, and she sinks into merciful unconsciousness.
She feels the arms of the Miqo'te dancer catching her as she sinks to the stone.
And her last thought before passing out, she directs to the Dusk Mother.
I played my song. I kept them safe. Am I Qalli today, Nhaama?
Blearily blinking, Amis stirs, feeling a trickle of cool water drip into her lips. Drinking greedily of the soothing liquid, the mute Qalli waits until there is no more coming before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.
Experimentally trying to breathe, she notes that she has been healed - probably the work of the Xaela woman kneeling in front of her. Inclining her head in gratitude, Amis opens her mouth and shakes her head, well used to this introduction to new people.
Getting to her feet slowly, she brushes sand off of the rich, colourful silks, looking around the semi-shaded bay that she passed out in, seeing if the stranger was alone - which does seem to be the case. In way of introduction, she points to the Qalli tribe emblem stitched into her sleeve, showing it to the stranger.
Akasa and Despair
The most important thing is to keep your spirits up.
That was what the Warrior of Light said, before departing to hopefully put an end to the Final Days.
Sitting in Thavnair, frowning, Amisgalgüi Qalli listened to the explanation of Akasa from Nidhana, her chin perched upon her fist, her mind whirring. Turning the implications over in her mind, she heard, at the edge of her hearing, the low susurrus of crying, wailing - a city in despair.
Standing and bowing in thanks to the Matanga, Amis walks through the city, her gaze on the floor, beads jangling in her new, silken outfit.
Suddenly, she freezes, her eyes wide and breath catching, as she has an idea. Seconds later, she is rushing through the city, ignoring her lungs screaming for air.
Slamming the door of her abode open, she ignores the startled jump of Tenuto as she moves to the cupboard, rummaging through the drawers in search of something even as her breathing fails. Finally pulling out the furled piece of parchment, she finds herself suddenly picked up, a worried voice asking her what is wrong.
Gesturing at the nearest table, the concerned Viera carries her there, letting her unfurl her prize - a map of the island of Thavnair. Impatiently, Amis stabs her finger down on Kadjaya's Footsteps, looking up at Tenu's face, seeing if he gets it.
"You... Need to go there?" Pleased that he seems to understand, Amis wriggles out of his arms, going around the room and collecting things - prominently, her finest harp. "You know it's dangerous. And you need to go there now?" A pleased noise from the harp, before the Xaela kneels down by the ice box, starting to collect food into a satchel.
"And you expect us to be there for a while."
Tossing the satchel of food at the Veena in response, Amis makes sure that she has everything she needs before heading out the door, beckoning him to follow.
Hearing the door shut behind her, Amis walks up to the first person she sees - a weeping Miqo'te - and plays a gentle strum on her harp to get her attention before smiling as best she can and beckoning the feline to follow her. Hearing confusion behind her, Amis moves on, resolving to gather as many people as she can.
~~~~~
Standing atop the stage, under a burning sky, Amis looks out at the crowd of people sitting on the grass - most of them weeping, or looking bereft, or morose.
Taking a breath, as deep as she can, she closes her eyes, holds her harp to her side, and plucks an arpeggiated chord.
Despair is how the transformations happen. Keeping spirits high is the answer.
Steeling her resolve, the Qalli starts to play, a complex, soaring ballad, her feet moving in a simple dance, ready to play her song until everybody is safe.
(Screenshot credit goes to the wonderful @meepsthemiqo!)
