07-23-2008, 07:36 PM
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Set on the Shattered Coast.
Progress at Esper Hollow had been going swimmingly for the past few days — from Nikita’s short-handed viewpoint, she thought everyone was pretty happy about it. Since she had no qualms with sleeping under the stars and thought she’d bring up her own shelter when she damn well felt like it, she decided to take the evening off. She set off for the walk to the broken coastline with a somewhat interesting burden: she towed a large instrument case behind her. She had long ago fastened wheels to it due to the amount of traveling she did and how much of a burden it was, and now she hardly noticed it when she drug it around. It wasn’t strange anymore for her.
She stopped when she had gotten to where she could see, hear, and smell the ocean. Near a jagged cliff-face that dropped off to the ocean and slanted to rocky slopes to the sides, she set the rolling case down next to a few boulders and pulled the instrument and bow out of it. Leaping up on top of a boulder that fit the right height for her to be able to comfortably play, she spent a few minutes tuning and cursing colorfully to herself — the ocean air didn’t do many wonders for the fine-tuned instrument. Finally, when she was satisfied with the sound of the strings, she began to play.
Nikita had picked up the instrument about a year ago, when she had first started traveling around with Laurel and the various gypsy groups. She loved playing it and, despite her rough start at learning without much of a teacher, she had developed a certain knack for it. She was no master of it, but she believed there was some charm to whatever the hell she started to play. Now, she was simply weaving some mournful chords together before steadily blending them together to a more up-beat, cheerful tempo. She grinned, despite the look of concentration on her face. She was in her happy place — near the wide ocean with an instrument in her arms and a melody in her ears.
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Progress at Esper Hollow had been going swimmingly for the past few days — from Nikita’s short-handed viewpoint, she thought everyone was pretty happy about it. Since she had no qualms with sleeping under the stars and thought she’d bring up her own shelter when she damn well felt like it, she decided to take the evening off. She set off for the walk to the broken coastline with a somewhat interesting burden: she towed a large instrument case behind her. She had long ago fastened wheels to it due to the amount of traveling she did and how much of a burden it was, and now she hardly noticed it when she drug it around. It wasn’t strange anymore for her.
She stopped when she had gotten to where she could see, hear, and smell the ocean. Near a jagged cliff-face that dropped off to the ocean and slanted to rocky slopes to the sides, she set the rolling case down next to a few boulders and pulled the instrument and bow out of it. Leaping up on top of a boulder that fit the right height for her to be able to comfortably play, she spent a few minutes tuning and cursing colorfully to herself — the ocean air didn’t do many wonders for the fine-tuned instrument. Finally, when she was satisfied with the sound of the strings, she began to play.
Nikita had picked up the instrument about a year ago, when she had first started traveling around with Laurel and the various gypsy groups. She loved playing it and, despite her rough start at learning without much of a teacher, she had developed a certain knack for it. She was no master of it, but she believed there was some charm to whatever the hell she started to play. Now, she was simply weaving some mournful chords together before steadily blending them together to a more up-beat, cheerful tempo. She grinned, despite the look of concentration on her face. She was in her happy place — near the wide ocean with an instrument in her arms and a melody in her ears.