Sep 26, 2013
+guardian-of-creativity
Grey slowed, then stopped altogether and doubled back the way he'd come. Nobody from the nearby towns would be foolish enough to be out this far with a storm rolling in, but that music had to be coming from someone. The rise and fall of its volume made centering in on the sound difficult, but after a few minutes he landed in a tree over a young woman with a violin. Three hundred-odd years had taught him a lot, and though instruments weren't his specialty he knew a fair bit about how his weather affected them.
"Shouldn't you be heading back to town, dummy?" he called down mockingly. "You're gonna lose your violin if you stay out here much longer."
