A sutured sewn back finger stitched. Gave memento of recent loss under battle-wound. The Seeker collected himself alone with reflection. His life had cultivated change. Although, a knock came on the opposing side of his cabin door. Before even pouring himself a brew vice. "I b' sorry but th' Captain yer trying to reach is not currently available, do come-by at a later date." He sarcastically intimidated a link-pearl operator.
Looking, thinking his avoidance worked, only to be startled as his door flung off the hinges. "Aye, sure let yourself on n', c'mon I just fixed that!" Flailing playfully, to notice his most unlikely interloper Crewmates in his bard who couldn't be touted as being physically magnificent, if anything was less than ordinary.
"Thee wondrous Captain! I've laid seizure before marvelous epiphany." Under his refined accent, The Seeker exhaled but that was a pirate-like introduction, quite impressive, the detected enthusiasm.
Wit expunged out from the Scoundrel, "First off, what if I was naked? Second, did Sol show ye some Dreamweed? ...But have at it, what hold yer thoughts?" Having to preface his own Crew sabotaged themselves, namely his Shipwright was chaos incarnate and prankster.
"As thou would say, nay to all they. I've found truth's crest, Everything has a Story. Drought ceases me, it has vaporized! I lie multitudinous of inexhaustible inspiration! Would thou, like to hear my new verses?" Bedazzled in fashionable attire, always ecstatically colorful. The Midlander was often prized-taken and targeted for being a prime hostage. Seeing beauty and positively good, in all things and matters, even in the precipice of danger, it excited writing. A calamity could usher the next dawn and he'd be in the middle of it.
Twisted in-arm the Miqo'te wasn't about to crush the morale sides, wasn't doing anything beforehand, being distracted from alone served his favoritism lately. "Cheers, I guess matey? But I'm not so sure, documenting bloke's taking a shart really qualifies as stories worth telling, or many in that minimum regard. But who knows, anymore, th' fetishes the Quicksand patron's develop b' whacked even t' me in standard. Anyways, become loose."
The bard drew his lute to strum a fitting testing tune, then baritone fetching a rhythmic cry from a soul.
"Titled: A Beheld Legend."
O’ coldest shrilling chills delivered unholy fright
Upon wickedest night
Puncturing blue; as sky, to ice
Beholdest eyes of thine, lost sight
Trembling whistle sang howl
Wizened branches snapped to foul
I shalt brand steel resolve,
A weathering’s survival demanded
Bundled tundra hide blanketed betwixt heart
Sanctity sheathed from fellowmen’s observe
Cruel harboring fury contains hungering growl
Prophecy strangles thee at dark hand.
Cardinal doom grew inside unkind through haze blind
Lives cultivate risked at grand line,
Fanning my lasting zeal serve to seal
Twilight’s stand brings unregretful end
Fore-thee, vision again at stretched thin
Pillar dreams brighten; like roses bloom
May memory in them, not wither in ever-soon.
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Conclusively halting his stringing lute to a fitting tune, his mimicry came emotionally. He held the properties to absorb details of stories, and preserve them into fitting beauty; they shouldn't be contained only to dreams, or left uncolored. They should expressively be felt and painted alive, even if they were 'once upon a time.'
Illusion parlor tricks, only of entertainment, nothing of prowess, or harming, gave the story portrayed the tales symbolically. He soothed a guilt that read like led on his Captain's features. This encapsulated accurately what the rival in white was. Legends were formulated by the ability of cherishing, thinking, remembering. To suffer or grieve in guilt, served less than celebrating what it gave, shaped, or earned.
Sculpted by the injuries and that very finger-wound, from previously, now, kept a unity thread. Where it formerly felt numb, feeling empty and weightless, now carried abundance purpose.
"I appreciate ye, Sheik Sphere. Sometimes can't fathom how t' heal, but seems, healing alone, isn't necessary. Even when songs end, th' melodies can continue to play, through us."
He gave a hearty standing and poured a glass of two instead of one earlier, "Ye can break down my door without permission anytime, let's have some more rounds, aye?"
