Nimbus Summit head in the clouds

"sir dalloway, sir dalloway,

with his legs run short
and his eyes astray,
did see a lady down the mountain-way

thought he would woo her,
pour his heart out to her,
so the lord came calling from his garden, gay

to the streets, he ran
heart and soul in hand,
set his sights on the form of a-nother man..."

...

his voice carries from end to end, echoing almost eerily off the high-rises -- the swell and tenor of a youthful tune dancing jauntingly through the mountains.  ravinger often explores new locations in order to spark his muse.  he finds that the more situations he puts himself in, the more places he visits, the more likely he is to compose newer, better songs.  today is no different, though he borrows the story from time with a prior mentor.  the bard continues to hum the song, hardly looking away from his surroundings until a flash of white catches his attention.

"white as snow," he sings the words as though testing them as potential lyrics. "ash-grey, snow-pale..." these are sung less certainly while his eyes seem to wander thoughtfully. "no, no. that won't do." ravinger huffs and shakes his head to rid his face of its pensive stance.  whatever ideas he'd previously housed, they look to have scattered now.

"ah, well. that's how it goes," a pause, and he at last regards the wolf he'd spotted. "up here all alone, are you?"