Cuando le pide a una estrella

East of Amherst :: Words→ 000

Day by day, the idea of wandering became more exciting to Leto. He was a closed off old man, it had been his plan to find a home and stick near it, settle his final years in peace without a worry or care beyond Sabina's safety. But exploring the city, going through forests that were more green than all the plant life in Villa Uníon combined, washing in rivers and meeting with locals that weren't as untrustworthy as Leto would once have believed had the old man longing to see a bit more. He was cautious, as usual, and wouldn't let his intrigue stop him from being his usual grumpy self, but the old man was waking up with purpose in the mornings. Today he went past Amherst and east, following some of the road he and Sabina had travelled down from, but then cutting off to enter some of the forest. The goats were confused at first, used to pulling the small cart down more obvious routes, but a few firm clicks got them trotting and weaving through the trees. Provided they didn't get lost or get caught on a tree root the cart would travel fine. And if it did get stuck, well... the old man would figure something out.

The wooden wheels squeaked as the two goats pulled their skinny master through groves and small fields, with Leto humming old songs to himself as he tried to remain still on the back of the cart so to not jostle his bad leg too much. Birds fluttered by in small flocks and clouds of feathers, catching Leto's magenta eyes for a moment. Their whistles and clicks were akin to song, but there was another voice amongst them. Leto leaned forward to part on Capri's rump to stop the goats as he listened carefully. Somewhere close, Leto was certain he could hear singing.

Usually with any sign of others Leto was encouraged to avoid them and move along. But singing and music was another matter. Through the suffering Leto experience, music had been his life-force, the only thing keeping him going through the despair of the Villa. It was something deeply special to the old dog, something he couldn't ignore no matter how grumpy or anti-social Leto was. Giving his goats a whistle, Leto set off towards the sound, pulling his guitar out from where it rested next to him and tuning the strings during his approach. By the time Leto could see the source of song, a she-wolf singing alone, the old man had a pattern in mind to play along to her singing, and began slowly strumming the chords out of his old friend, hoping for a moment he could become swallowed up by the beauty of music before the stranger questioned the dog's sudden appearance.

Flower gleam and glow,
let your power shine

See the Light, it's blinding

Lucia fought the loneliness with song, as she often did. The softly sung sounds helped sooth the twisting in her heart, the sadness behind her eyes. As always her small feathered friends twittered along to her gentle straining notes. The young chicks born in the spring now sported their adult's plumage, and could flutter along with valiant attempts at flight. Sometimes the femme would find an unlucky youngling on the ground where they had fallen, these she would pick and climb into the trees to return them where they might be safe.

She was picking berries again although it might have been for futility in her intent. There was barely a space space of her cottage that she could paint now unless she began to pain over those first artistic designs; And maybe she would do such a thing if she could bring herself to do so.

The volume of her own voice did drown out the rickety cart and the tuning sounds of the old man. It was not until he began to play in earnest did her tune fade away, Lucia turned to face him. A pretty surprise lilting the blueness of her eyes wide and so purely innocent.

She had never seen such a thing as he plucked at, but the sounds were coming from the wooden contraption and they happily matched the song she had been singing. She had been paused barely a handful of seconds before she took up the tone again, lips curving into a gleeful, joyous smile,

"♫ And if I must suffer.. let me do so in sunshine. And if I must rejoice... bring to me the bright summer days. This is my wish, I have opened wide my eyes again. ♫"

The woman's hands clasped together over her heart as the lyrics twisted their way over her lips. She was absorbed by the music, by the strumming notes that came from the man's.. creation.

I wrote a song o3o | [wc — --] template by hilli

East of Amherst :: Words→ 000

Such a sweet and tender thing, music was. It was the one thing Leto was allowed to enjoy throughout his life, and due to that it was treasured by the old man. He dreaded the day that his hearing might fade. Leto was glad his stump ears could still pick up sounds as well as others, living without hearing the music he loved would break Leto more than anything else. It reminded him of memories, joyful and sad, and playing the tunes out of his guitar soothed the old dog in a way no herbal remedy could. Finding moments to share his music with others was one of the only occasions where Leto was willing to trust and let go of his anxieties. So when he found her, the lone singer of a white and sandy browns, Leto dipped his hat in a small token of respect as he continued to play.

It took a moment for the girl to catch up with the music, her light blue eyes were enchanted by the sounds and the innocence showed that she, like many Leto had met, had never seen a guitar before. Though once she began to sing once more, Leto's fingers flicked and plucked more fervently over the strings, chords dancing in harmony with the lady's voice. The songs Leto usually played to were in his native tongue, usually sung by Sabina, so he wasn't quite used to playing along to words of a new language. But, Leto had played his guitar for a decade, with no one to compare to he could only assume he'd mastered the instrument. Fluttering against strings, Leto brought out light notes of joy to assist the lyrics the younger lady was producing, lifting them up in a way that didn't drown them out behind music but support them in the emotions they brought forth.

By the time the song seemed to draw to a close, like all beautiful things, Leto's tune slowed to a drawl as his fingers played across the strings almost absentmindedly. By this point the old man and his cart had come to a stop at a respectful distance, and Cabri and Cabra were happily helping themselves to tufts of grass poking out between tree roots. A smile crept across the old man's face, something rare for a stranger to see, and he tipped his head once more in a small bow. "You sing very well. Like songbird." He commented.