A little, self-indulgent prompt: Guardian hearing Crow singing for the first time (solely based on the fact that Brandon O'Neil is a good singer)
thank you for the prompt :D he really is a good singer! and I hope you like my somewhat silly take on it!
also on ao3
“Guardian, let’s have another!” Crow insists, wine pouring from the bottleneck into a cup, and he thrusts it into the Guardian’s hands. “And one for me.”
In drunken joy, the two of them clink their cups and toast to another worthy idea.
The Guardian looks at Crow, whose cheeks reddened and whose hair turned tousled, and wonders at him. Unshackled with wine, Crow seems to be wishing to reach different heights, and the Guardian wishes to follow him to them no matter what.
But those are not the heights that the Guardian expected.
“The Eliksni taught me a merry song of theirs. They often sing it where one can’t hear,” Crow says, a bitter touch to his smile. “But I’ll sing it to you, Guardian.”
And so he does. His mouth opens, and a song of strange sounds and untranslated lyrics comes out of it. It is melodic, with pauses common to the language of the Eliksni. But that is only a part of the wonder, the other part is Crow’s voice. Soft and sweet and perfectly clear. Not one that opera singers would entertain with, but not of a first-time singer either.
Crow sings, and the Guardian watches, mesmerized, listens, awed. It seems even the birds have quieted down, or, perhaps, it is wine that stuffed the Guardian’s ears with sweet drunkenness.
As the song wraps up, Crow downs what is left in his cup and reaches for the bottle where miserable amount of wine is left. He pours what is left, shaking the bottle to miss no excess, and looks up at the Guardian.
“What?” he asks, met with a dazzled stare.
The Guardian laughs, tells him that they’ve never heard anything quite like that. What was the song about, they wonder?
“I’m sorry to break the immersion,” Crow laughs, tinkling the edge of his cup against the Guardian’s. “It was definitely about booze.”
