01-02-2008, 10:38 PM
[html]mall-caps;">
[/html]
He had wondered as a young one how the violin seemed to possess him. He had asked his uncle how the violin knew what to say to make such beautiful music. After all, birds knew all the right words to the song and the wind just accompanied them. A violin, however, didn't need to eat, didn't even breathe and never uttered a word besides the wonderful music (or horrible screeching) when played. Like a rock, his uncle had explained the violin was not alive. Rocks don't play music, he had reminded his uncle rather precociously and violins did. And so had been the life of young Sedition and his various adventures most of which were adventures into the human city and towns that surrounded their settlement.
Now he knew the story and as his eyes opened at the approaching scent of another he let a grin slide across his features as he finished the song. Swinging the fiddle down he extended a hand after a posing in a low wide-swept bow. The other female, though the scent not as strong as others, had the scent of leadership and regardless of her time in the Shadowlands her respect was still given as it would be to Fatin or any other. "It's a violin. Some call it a fiddle though if you're playing fast, dancy music like I was. Same instrument though." He offered the instrument to her in case she wanted a closer look (some wolves weren't too keen on human technology) before brushing off some snow and settling down nearby on a stump. Putting away the rosin and setting the bow beside him he brought one furred leg underneath him and focused his attention on the wolf before him. "Weather's cold this time a'year. Sedition Wick, by the way Endymion's cousin from the Southwest. May I ask the Lady's name?" Again polite and sensitive and ever the optimist. Why he was almost the perfect gentleman to bring home to mother.
Now he knew the story and as his eyes opened at the approaching scent of another he let a grin slide across his features as he finished the song. Swinging the fiddle down he extended a hand after a posing in a low wide-swept bow. The other female, though the scent not as strong as others, had the scent of leadership and regardless of her time in the Shadowlands her respect was still given as it would be to Fatin or any other. "It's a violin. Some call it a fiddle though if you're playing fast, dancy music like I was. Same instrument though." He offered the instrument to her in case she wanted a closer look (some wolves weren't too keen on human technology) before brushing off some snow and settling down nearby on a stump. Putting away the rosin and setting the bow beside him he brought one furred leg underneath him and focused his attention on the wolf before him. "Weather's cold this time a'year. Sedition Wick, by the way Endymion's cousin from the Southwest. May I ask the Lady's name?" Again polite and sensitive and ever the optimist. Why he was almost the perfect gentleman to bring home to mother.