Bryant

Birth Clan - Adhamh Element - Nature Gender - Male Pronouns - He / Him Orientation - Nonmonogamous Panromantic Goes by - Bryant, Sass (in his mind)

Bryant is one of the rare imperials to live within the Oakrest Citadel. He is most often found late at night or early in the morning, and only if he is wandering to or from a gig. Truth of the matter is that Bryant lives for jazz. If he can find someone who wants to hear his latest compositions, he is there, horn in hand, ready to belt it. If he can get some hep cats swinging, all the better! Trouble is, these stony Oakrest squares are a little bland. They're great for a party on the calendar, but some shook-up nights are what Bryant conspires to acquire.

"Steam it up, let's go." Horn Player Laying down some hot licks for the auditory appreciation of anyone in earshot STATS STR ██████████ DEX ██████████ CON ██████████ INT ██████████ WIS ██████████ CHA ██████████

Caridad - Bryant's older sister, Cari leads the shade-hunting militia in their birth clan. Bryant, markedly more relaxed than his sister, chose to leave rather than continue creating arguments with her. "I need a little more chaos in my life," he told her before he left. He thinks well of her and her cause, but wow does he not want in on that ride. He wrote a piece about her, which he titled "Duskfall."

Carina - Bryant's sister, Carina left their birth clan before Bryant hatched, but was in the area enough that he felt he could visit her any time. Her welcoming and giving personality was formative in his early attempts at music, and he frequently credits her with being his first audience. He wrote a piece about her called "Brimming Cups."

Meadowtouch - The poet of Oakrest, Meadowtouch often collaborates with Bryant - albeit from afar. Bryant's music often underlays a reading of Meadowtouch's latest poems when they are performed within the Citadel. For a time, Bryant had quite the crush on him, but Meadowtouch has made it abundantly clear that he is not interested in more than a working relationship. Meadowtouch wrote a poem about Bryant titled "The Bottle." The only copy is in Bryant's possession.

Lightshow - Oakrest's events coordinator, Lightshow is responsible for coordinating all performances for holidays and sanctioned events. He often does what he can to ensure Bryant has an excellent time and location. For a time, the two were lovers, but they have parted amicably.

Nibiru - A dancer, Nibiru often seeks out Bryant's jam sessions and performances. They have a standing agreement to practice their dance while Bryant practices his horn, and both seem to take inspiration from the other. Some evenings, Nibiru puts on less elaborate shows for the Citadel, and on those nights they dance to Bryant's piece. It is unusual for them to dance to his pieces during festivals, though. They often choose other music for those events. Bryant is infatuated with them, but doesn't know how to approach them, as they have often cold-shouldered him.

Circe - A courier for the Crownfire clan, Circe enchanted Bryant with her straight-forward personality that revealed and hid so much of her. He was inspired by her tremors that shook everything from her hands to her knees to her voice and her laugh, and he wrote what he refers to as the Hummingbird Sequences for any great horn-player to practice quick key-changes and fingering. He was melancholy when their time together finished, but he knew it wasn't a forever thing, since they weren't a forever kind of love - just a nice one, a cheerful one, a distracting one. He was happy to have three children raised out of their time together, and he wishes her all of the best. Sometimes he writes her letters - nothing stressful or steamy, just friendly ones - and he often hopes for a reply.

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Bryant smiled. "Let me tell you a thing about dancing."

Circe had just explained that the shaking wasn't strictly excitement. She liked the music, sure, but she always seemed like a leaf in a storm, even when she was standing still.

He whispered, "You only stop dancing when you stop moving. You only stop moving when you dead."

He'd been traveling, playing a few shows, having a few sit-ins and jams with some folks who really knew rhythm. And here was this lady - not a girl, mind, a lady full of class, even with broken nails and eyes that spoke a world of things she didn't want to talk about - who smiled gamely up at him and said, "Well I'm not dead."

Oh, she had him by the heart in that moment. Those pale eyes and that smile that twitched just a little, as if it were uncertain how big and grandiose it wanted to pull.

It was fun while it lasted. So cliche, but so true. Bryant liked Circe - he liked her fire and her poise and the way her voice quavered when she wasn't trying very hard to be articulate. He spent a while practicing, seeing if he could get his horn to mimic the way her voice tilted and pitched at such odd moments in the conversation. It was intriguing. It was beguiling. It was charming.

It was indelibly Circe.

He liked to draw conversations with her - not out, and not into, just draw them. Like making a line with a pen, and when you run out of paper, you just change direction, sometimes circling back on yourself. Conversations with Circe were excellent - she'd been all over, and they talked about what they loved and loathed about territories and clans all over the continent. And sometimes, she grew silent just to get the words right. He hung on every silent beat. They kept away from more complicated things like family and history. But it was definitely enough to fill time. Enough to let time get away.

Bryant stayed longer than he meant to. He'd cancelled engagements out on the Cloudsong just to chat with this hummingbird, just to take her dancing and see if she hopped as well as she shook. She hopped fine, even if she was nervous. He'd have stayed longer, too, if she was the staying type. Even though he knew her heart wasn't fully his.

Love doesn't have to be all-consuming to be real.

It can be brief and just as true.

He watched her pack up one day. She'd mentioned a parcel and a delivery, and she told him maybe sometime they'd catch up again. Her hands shook as she spoke, and he wondered how much of that was her natural flutters and how many were because she felt something worth keeping was being left behind.

He didn't ask.

He didn't want to know.

In the light after she left, Bryant sat down with coffee and horn. And he noodled a bit, but mostly he wrote.

It was complicated and tricky, and to play it you needed chops, but he nailed the notework for Circe's tremors. Runs of sharp little notes, quick fingers, and enough breath that even after you still felt breathless. It took him a few days to write it all down, as well as the note wishing her well. He sealed it and left it with the postmaster for next time she came through on work.

You know, provided she was still dancing.

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Bio (except as credited), oak leaves, acorns, & layout by ixris / 26035 - all edits by later users
Original concept of character by lovecatsh8life / 241821 but there was a lot of revision
Horizontal dividers by Mibella / 47497