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Oberon smiled as he accepted the sugarmelon and other refreshments from the worthy warrior. He never tired of watching this Coatl’s performance. He had, in fact, tried to time his arrival at the Cloudsong to coincide with it, and he was very happy he had succeeded. Petting his new Springfoot Bilworper friend on the head, he moved deeper into the Cloudsong, looking for more fun. Titania had not yet arrived, so he still had some tim—What was that? @Deladria Oberon turned quickly, his eye catching the sight of green wings and a blue frill. He blinked in surprise. It couldn’t be, could it? Out of all the dragons in Sornieth who came to the Cloudsong Celebration, had Oberon really just seen that delightful child from last year? Well, if he remembered correctly, Lifeanth had said something about her “weyr” coming every year…The former warrior stared in the direction he was certain he had seen the young Fae, but there were too many dragons in the way to make sure. He smiled, thinking of the possibility that they had both just seen the same performance. It would be just like her, the Warrior Mage thought, considering how fascinated she had been with his Coliseum tales, to want to watch a true warrior’s swordplay. For a moment he considered trying to follow her, but a familiar--and entirely unexpected--call from behind him pulled him back… |
Taliesin
Master Bard, Mage, Astrologer
The large Imperial strode through the Cloudsong, staring around him with interest. He had heard much of this Event from his Clanmates, and after last year’s rather interesting transformations of several of them--particularly Seaspray, who had come back happy and settled in his magic again, and Verdigris, who had finally accepted Cadmia’s choice of mate--after their trip here, he had decided that he must come and partake of this celebration himself. After all, Taliesin had reasoned, if there was going to be any more momentous shifts and “magical” transformations, then who better to witness and record them than the Clan’s best Bard? He studiously ignored the fact that those mage stones Seaspray and Moldavite had brought back home with them last year had fascinated him for hours, or that he was not, in fact, near anyone of his Clan at the moment, and so could not record any such transformations if they should occur. He was here to watch, and set his experiences to music…and maybe do a bit of souvenir shopping along the way.
He was having a bit of trouble, though. That Coatl’s performance had been quite…extraordinary. And try as he might Taliesin could not think of a single way to describe it in song. Frowning, he moved to a table, plucking his harp absently as he moved. Should he use a loud crescendo to demonstrate the warrior’s prowess? He strummed a few notes, and his frown deepened. That didn’t sound quite right…Perhaps the performance would be better served by a quieter tone, showing the Coatl’s shyness, and exquisite movements with the sword? Taliesin stilled his paws and then began again, gently trailing his claws over the harp strings. Maybe both?
The Master Bard shifted the harp, about to add a few notes, when a familiar Fae appeared in his peripheral vision. Taliesin smiled. Not there was an idea!
“I say!” He called cheerfully, slinging his harp onto his back again and moving forward quicky, “Oberon! Did you see that wonderful sword performance?”
Oberon turned, clearly startled. “Taliesin?!” He stared, his frills going straight up, in a very un-Fae like display of shock. “What on Sornieth are you doing here?”
The Master Bard gestured around him. “It’s a celebration my good dragon,” he observed, “and I am a Bard. Where else would I be? I missed the last few years,” he added sadly, “and quite a few momentous things happened to the Clan here that I knew nothing about. So, this year…” he gestured again, “here I am, ready and willing to record everything and immortalize it in music! Now, did you see that Coatl perform?” He unslung his harp again, strumming it idly as he talked. “I have been trying to set the memory of his display to song, but I can’t get it quite right. Perhaps you can help?”
“Help?” Oberon glanced back the way he had been heading before Taliesin called to him, his eyes looking oddly frustrated. Sighing, he turned back again. “I saw the performance, yes, and it was even better than last year, but I am not sure--”
“Excellent!” Taliesin beamed. “Then describe it to me, Oberon,” he demanded, readying his harp, “You were a warrior once, yourself. Put your feelings about that swordplay into words, emphasize what was so good. Was it the technique?” He ran his paws down the harp strings, picking out gentle notes. “Or the memories of past victories those slashes and parries stirred inside you?” He tried another crescendo and noticed Oberon wince. Too much? Taliesin adjusted his paws again, looking for the right note. “Give me your experience as you watched him. Give me the song!”
The former Warrior blinked, then smiled, his eyes going somewhat distant. “Alright, Taliesin,” he agreed, his voice going soft, clearly lost in a distant memory, “It did remind me of some old battles…” He straightened, turning away from the door that had fascinated him previously. “And that technique was absolutely wonderful,” he added firmly, “and more than deserves to be honored in song, you’re right about that…But if we’re going to do this, you should sit down.” Oberon gestured back to the very table Taliesin had been sitting at previously. “And you should take notes, my friend,” he added, moving towards the table in question “because I DO have a story for you….”
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