out of character
The music changed, becoming more painful. It echoed Dalgina's own pain, though the loss the music spoke of was not something she was familiar with. She had known betrayal, and the feeling of being alone, but she hadn't known love the way the flute mourned for it. Tilting her head she kept still, wondering why the stranger was playing such sad music. Was it similar to her art, unable to stop from recreating the horrors that plagued her? It was tragic, being caught in such a cycle. The beauty was painful, instead of calming.
The music stopped, and a thick voice spoke out, rumbling. She sounded female, with a soft lilt to her voice. She sounded sad. Dalgina's own response was empty, the emotions pushed and locked away again with the end of the music. She didn't want it to play out. Standing she moved forwards, pushing the thick curtain of hair away from her face. The female had scars over her pale flesh. Your music's very beautiful
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