queenofheartsrp | second stanza [video]

second stanza [video]

[Kuja is dressed in her usual garb, and the tail which was evident when she first arrived seems to have disappeared. She offers the Vine a bow. It is a bow without a particularly respectful air, more a dramatic gesture than anything else.]

Now that I have been here for some few days, I've decided to make the attempt to discover whether there are others here like me. Not of my kind, as I sincerely doubt that could be the case, but of a similar bent.

I am a poet, and an actress of no small renown, and I wish to know if there other artists here, like myself. Painters, sculptors, writers, or perhaps musicians? Even a patron of the arts. It would be a great pleasure to discuss aesthetics, as well as the passion and wonder of creation, with like-minded individuals. We might collaborate, combine our talents to reach ever more lofty creative heights. I don't doubt that this Garden would benefit from a stage performance, a concert, or a gallery.

[She pauses, and it is a practiced pause.] Relatedly, I have been browsing in the library, and there I found many volumes of verse. Having read them all, I am curious--does anyone possess more such books? This is a rare and most likely unique opportunity for a poet such as myself: to read verses from another world.

[As a side note, some may find that the library's collection of poetry has mysteriously decreased, as Kuja has ~~stolen~~ borrowed a large number of the books.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A creature of magic. That's... I've met created beings before, but they were made by someone. [A being born entirely of magic sounds truly extraordinary.]

I think it's just... hmm, guilt. [She knows it, feels it herself, missing her family, finding things to distract herself from missing her family.] Acting like it's alright, being here, when we've been taken from our homes.

Ah, yes, of course. I can do that. [She looks at Kuja and the books, wonders if the other woman would prefer to read, now.] You'd like to hear it now?

[At the words "made by someone", Kuja experiences an emotion--emotions so well-developed are still very new to her, and the surge of hatred strikes her silent for a moment, until she regains her equilibrium. She can't allow herself to feel anything so strong. It's far too dangerous. She quickly smiles, hoping her lapse wasn't too obvious. She decides she likes Mahalia's explanation far better than the truth. Not that there's no truth in it. When she destroyed that wretch, she did remake herself, out of the nothing she was given.] There are few such creatures in my world, and as I said, no others quite like me.

I feel no guilt. I no longer have a home. I am free from all things.

[Kuja has been reading all day, so she finds the prospect of a change of pace quite pleasant.] Yes, no need to delay. I have been waiting to hear your voice lifted in song, and now that time and distance do not separate us, there is nothing further to keep me from the sound.

[Mahalia sees the reaction, though she cannot place it, exactly. She assumes it's pain, sadness, and decides to curb her curiosity. Perhaps this is a wound that shouldn't be prodded.] No, I've not heard of anything like that before. [And she wishes she could talk to her godfather about it.]

[She nods.] There are others like that, people who are happy to be here. I'm glad they've found a safe place.

Alright. [She smiles slightly, and steps back, taking a moment to smooth her skirts, compose herself. She's nervous, a little, Kuja has given such compliment to her voice already, and she hasn't even sung yet.

She picks a simple song, slow, with long, steady notes. A little melancholy, but balanced, calm and content, lyrics telling the story of a summer long passed. It suits her voice well, shows her well-practised breathing, clarity of tone and her ability to convey emotion.

A human song, but her voice still begins to affect the area, the natural ability in her blood using the song as a medium to move, to touch the life all around them, spreading a warm calm.]

[She is not sure if this place is safe, if she is in it, but perhaps. Perhaps she can be safe. She is sure that she is not happy, but how could she be? She smiles nonetheless, because she knows how to smile without feeling behind it.] I have met some who fit that description. I have heard the Queen takes many from battle, or from the brink of death.

[Is she really going to die? Perhaps she deserves it, but some part of her still hopes--she stops herself from pursuing those thoughts, as they are too troubling. She doesn't quite lapse this time, focusing instead on Mahalia's voice as she sings.

The song is beautiful, and there is magic in it as well; it is like nothing she has heard before. All of her goes quiet as she stands listening, rapt. The smile on her face softens, becomes sincere. She could listen to music like this forever.]

Edited 2011-07-02 20:07 (UTC)

[The song comes to an end, slowly, one last note hanging in the air, and Mahalia takes a moment to steady her breathing. The same sense of warmth she had shared through the song sits lightly in her chest, and she smiles a little, to herself, before her slight nerves gather to her again.

She looks at Kuja, waiting quietly for the woman's reaction and opinion.]

[Kuja is not yet used to these more complicated emotions. She has had very little time to learn to deal with them. She cannot always access them, and when she can, she cannot always control them. Once the song ends and the relative silence returns, she does not react, at first. Then her eyes fill up with tears, and for a moment, she seems almost too delirious to talk. She probably does not deserve to hear such music.

At last, she clasps her hands together and speaks softly, tears still bright in her eyes.]

So perfectly lovely.

[She's startled by the tears, really, concerned. Not entirely sure how to react, what to say.]

I, ah, thank you.

[Maybe she should have picked a brighter, happier song.]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry.

Don't fret, dear, there is no need to apologize. My emotions are not like yours. [Her emotions are not like anyone's: new, yet already twisted and malformed.]

It has been some time since I heard such sweet music, that is all. A heartfelt performance can move me to tears. [She places a hand on her chest.] I could feel the wistfulness in the notes resonate within me. In some ways, I am as hollow as a bell.

Oh, I... hmm, that sounds... painful.

[She's never heard of anything like it before, but Kuja has already explained that she's unlike any other being Mahalia's met before. Perhaps she shouldn't try to apply her own worldview to her. She dips her head politely.]

I'm very glad you liked it.

I feel no pain. [Physically, she does not, or very seldom. In spite of her small size and seeming delicacy, her body is almost invulnerable.]

You must remember, I am a poet. I speak in metaphors. The hollowness I mention is emotional, and so a beautiful song reverberates through my own feeling, through that emptiness. An echo of a lost symphony in a darkened room.

Such a fine voice--do you sing often, child? Do you perform?

[She nods, really quite caught up in the way Kuja talks. The birdsong her godfather has taught her relies on metaphor and imagery, is impossible to translate literally.]

I think I understand. [It still sounds painful, to her, but she is not Kuja.]

I practice everyday. My godfather taught me. I've been learning since I was tiny. But... it's so I can understand him, not for performance.

[Her godfather's attempts to speak English are painfully stunted, filled with stuttering and the same humming Mahalia will use when she's unsure of her wording. It was sad to hear it, when his communication in the birdsong was so fluid and bright.]

I have always been so. I am not precisely a living thing, though I do live. I have a soul, yet I am soulless. [Kuja does not wish to give completely accurate accounts of herself, especially after what she has done, and she loves contradictions.]

It pleases me to hear it. It is good to practice daily, when you have such a gift. For such talent to wither and die would be a loss to all.

He speaks through song? He must be an interesting man indeed. I have met no such humans in all my days.

[She pauses.] It was not quite an ordinary song, was it? There was magic in it.

You seem whole, to me. [A little strange, compared to some of the people Mahalia knew. A little dramatic. But not like an incomplete person.]

He's a warden. [Born human, but taken into service.] A... guardian of the natural world. He's birdsouled, and so he sings as they do. It comes easier than human speech, to him.

I have, ah, abilities... hmm, potential, in my blood. [Even though magic seems the easiest term to use when talking to the people here, she still can't bring herself to refer to it like that. Only the people who fear and hate it call it magic in her world.] Sometimes it gives my singing strength. But I haven't really learnt any of the true spell songs he uses.

I do, do I not? [She smiles, a little bitterly. She had been made to seem whole, but also to be disposable.] I am whole enough. The parts that make up that whole are unusual shapes, that is all.

A guardian--I am something like that, myself, or I was. [She had been meant to preserve the souls of Terra by destroying the souls of Gaia. A cruel, thankless burden.] Singing like a bird--their voices are sweeter than humans', so that is no sorrowful duty. You can understand the speech of birds as well?

To exercise power through music, what a beautiful idea! My own power has no melody to it, but I wish it did. You should sing--not often, but always. It is one of the finer arts, I feel. A song need not only be a song. It can be a spectacle.

We're all unique, in unique ways. [Although Kuja was clearly far more unique than most of the humans Mahalia had met.]

He loves his work. [It was arguable that he had a choice in the matter, but Jast truly devoted everything to his duties, and Mahalia would rather look on the love he gave than think of what he could do if he was freed from it.] Yes, and speak it. Though I am still learning. [Sixteen years of learning. Perhaps she would never be as fluent as her godfather, but that didn't mean she'd give up.]

Ah, I don't know if I'm strong enough for anything like that. [She dips her head a little. She felt she had grown stronger, in some ways, in the Gardens. But being away from Jast meant her studies in song had suffered, even if there were birds here that would humour her.] Not yet, anyway.

Very true, but I mean the ways in which I am set apart from animals and other such living beings.

You can sing the song of birds as well? So talented. [She beams.] You must demonstrate for me. I have some ability to communicate to beasts and make my will known, but that is not speech, precisely.

Oh, but you should! I've been searching for an artist to perform at Xion's party. If you would be interested, I don't doubt the guests would love to listen to your sweet melodies.

There is... speaking, and singing. [It was complicated. The birds made everything into songs, really, any simple piece of communication woven with so many layers of metaphor and imagery. But there was communication, and there were the greater pieces of song.] Would you like another song?

Xion is a good friend of mine. I've been making decorations for the party, already. [She wanted her to have as good a birthday as possible, but standing in front of that many people to sing was a strange idea.] I'm not sure about performing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

second stanza [video]

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;