Muhaha, I am ninja-Marit! ;> Maybe if you post again, or we do two more rounds'ish on this thread? We can see how it fits? I've started ending it anyways — it's getting slightly outdated!
Word Count: 617 - SoSuWriMo
He paid attention well, and watched her fingers keenly as she played and sang the song. There were only four chords to it, not too hard for a beginner, and she sung two verses that were the same in melody and chord; the only difference was in the lyrics. As she sung and struck the chords in the right order, she laid her eyes on this new acquaintance's face, finding it fascinating to watch him think. Some looked so different when concentrating, and it was clear to her that his mind was fully focused on the movements of her fingers. Still, she sung clearly, a quiet soprano that pierced the winter air around them firmly, but softly. Byssan lull, koka kittelen full, där kommer tre vandringsmän på vägen... She had no idea what they meant, but she had found it in several books, and often there were images of three men in strange coats, and sometimes three ships or three trees. It was always three, though what it could mean she had no idea. She enjoyed it for its melody and the strangeness of its words, though she no doubt pronounced it far from how the language was really spoken. It was excotic, yet strangely beautiful, and it wrapped itself comfortably around her mind as she sang it, lulling her into another realm entirely.
She nodded as he said he wanted her to sing the song, and she cleared her throat a little as if to signalize that she was ready. In fact, she did not know why she had done it because her throat had not needed clearing, though playing with another person seemed to her as a different situation than singing on her own, and the signal had come naturally. He struck the tempo on the body of the guitar and Mew sung as he struck the chords in the correct order, singing the same verse several times over. The children stopped their play and watched the two as the played together, not used to someone else playing momma's guitar, and noticing the difference. Mew had years of practice, and her sound was different — she played it differently. It seemed they accepted this version as well, for they soon continued their play and ignored the adults completely, and as Mew sung the final tone of the melody she saw them and laughed a small and quiet, muffled laugh at them. Children were endlessly amusing to her. As the tones grew weaker but lingered in the air, Mew returned to look at her new-found student, satisified. He had played it correctly, else she would not have taken the liberty of watching her children. He needed little assistance, it seemed, as he was good at memorizing information. "Yeah, that's just right", she smiled, before continuing. "Know what, I have many books with many melodies. If you want to, you can come and visit me. I live in a house in the city inside Dahlia's borders — you can probably find me by scent." Her offer surprised her; rarely did she reach out to virtual strangers like this. But something in this one had made her want to teach him; perhaps his obvious talent, or his enthusiasm. Either way, it was nice to let someone else play while she sung, and she enjoyed his company. Some impulses were harmful, but this one was certainly not, and she was glad her tongue had acted before her mind had seen fit to stop it. Smiling, her green eyes studied him as she awaited an answer, and her hand reached out to recieve her guitar back. This lesson was over, for the children were fussing and needed their nap.
