Deepwood Weald Mythical Mithril

Moira was among the rolling plains of the area, perched upon a boulder. Looking over the landscape. She used to be the type that loved being all high up, acting all mighty and above others with her snarky attitude. Now she just preferred to hold her head high, and what better place than a spot like this? 

She hummed to herself a bit. A little melody Moira once used for those that she tended to care for, the injured and sick. 

@Marruz

Marruz's day had been leisurely at most. For all the recent activity, he found that these times of rest were quite useful and something to be enjoyed. Thus, the boy had taken to his usual stroll across his new homeland, mapping out the territory with a growing sense of familiarity.

Being the young stripling that he was, the willowy youth made excessive rounds. It wasn't difficult for him to notice any subtle changes in the ambience of the Weald, so of course his ears pricked at the first sound of life like his. The dark needles that were his legs finally stopped their endless threading, and he directed his cold heterochromic gaze towards the source of the audition. 

It wasn't always on purpose that the darkling was a stealthy one. One might consider it a habit or a simple biproduct of design that he was naturally silent as the dead. Nevertheless, it favored him now as he stood there, listening in quiet contemplation.

He could tell it was Moira, yet another relative he had recently unearthed, and the thought was a tad shocking even for the nonplussed Marruz. She was singing, after all. And what bothered him even more — smoldering like icy-hot coals within his stomach — was the fact that he missed it. He missed song and he missed his mother. But his father would soon arrive. 

Slowly, he approached. He didn't know why but his paws were moving with a mind of their own and he didn't resist. He just didn't want to resist anymore. Before he knew it, it was irreversible. And all he could think to do was make himself known before the situation became embarrassing. So he cleared his throat almost too loudly and, with an eerily cool exterior, said, "That sounds beautiful." 

Moira continued to hum her little tune. It helped to comfort herself as well as others. She loved her tunes, and always hummed when alone...or at least most of the time. Unless disturbed, and even that happened most of the time. Moira opened her eyes as she had them closed while humming, turning to him.

"Of course it is...it's the last most hear as I comfort their passing." That...was half true. Only some of those she aided had passed, and it was few in number.

Marruz blinked, shifting thoughtfully on his paws. He was thankful that the woman had not cut her melody to an abrupt halt; he rather enjoyed its somber cadence. Indigo and black orbs closed for a moment as he listened, engulfing himself in the different scenes in which the tune might have fallen. 

Meanwhile, he noted the fact that this mysterious bird was indeed a medic. Whether or not it proved useful at the present, you just could never be certain what assets played nascent roles. He imagined that he was dying — that this was the sound of his departure, pushing him away from the world. It made him feel oddly at peace.

"What do you call it?" Marruz was hesitant to break the chord, but his curiosity was stronger. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to sway, though his chin bobbed subtley with the tempo. Yes, it was something he would remember — a fitting tribute to the dead, the dying, and the surviving.

Moira smiled gently, yet there was also an odd look about her smiles. As if there was more behind it. A sneer, a snarky remark, a curse all just waiting behind the false smile. Then he asked something she did not know...so she thought up a name on the spot. 

"Azura's Night Melody...the passing of day into night. Light into dark...like it, then?" she asked to Marruz, curious. Few remarked her musical choices, even with the darker tones to them.

Marruz had hardly noticed her impromptu supplication. He found that the name was more than suitable for the tune, and he repeated it several times in his head before returning a meditative nod. The tall shadow had grown somewhat since their recent encounter, and his shoulders had broadened to the point that when he morphed completely out of the darkness, he was all the more rangy.

The passing of day into night; light into dark. How wonderful to the youth, who could think of nothing else he pleasured more. It seemed he was listening to the culmination of his childhood, and it was comforting in that macabre kind of way.

"Of course I do," his voice was of a lower note now - and deeper in pitch - though the variance was only slight. It would take time for the lanky boy to reach the apogee of his maturity. "Where did you learn it?" 

Moira was always a bit put off by the others here. Yet Marruz, something about him...he had appeared somewhat menacing in some way on their first meeting. Yet had also seemed like he was holding back, for her sake...she recalled how close he got to her, their conversation. 

"From myself" she answered. But in truth, she did not truly recall where she learned the tune. "Self taught. Put some words together, but I find it's always better humming it."

Marruz tried to hum it for himself. He had never tried to sing or ask for anything special of his vocal chords before. The sound was admittedly odd at first, but he repeated the vibrations enough to match them with what he had heard before.

From his throat, the tune was rendered, perhaps, less soothing, but of a more melancholy breed. It was reminescent of a wolf's howl. Such was the beauty of music — so universal, yet never the same. He allowed the ghost of a smile to trace upon his eyes. This woman was a living story, wasn't she?

"Tell me," he said after a small rendition of his own. "Who was the last person you sang this to?" 

Moira wanted to laugh as he tried to hum it himself. He managed it somewhat, in a different way. She felt no longer like laughing, and instead narrowed her eyes. She still thought her own better and once he was done, huffed. "It...was an attempt, I suppose."

She began to turn her face away, before he asked that. And almost instantly, she went on the defensive. "That is not for you to know." The question itself had touched a rough place.

Marruz's demeanor did not change at her sharp response. It was clear that he had touched a sore spot for the woman, so he was willing to forego risking further damage.

His eyes flickered impassively; lips drawing a thin, nonchalant line beneath a lone, indigo amethyst. He moved his head disinterestedly toward the rock — detached his gaze with a long sigh that shovelled crystals of ice within his lungs. It seemed that he was far from the subject, though internally there was only an intensified curiosity. He shovelled that down, too. Began to hum the song again.

"Are there other songs, then?" His tone was less congenial now, if ever it had truly been. It seemed to suggest, can I know this, either, or are all your secrets accompanying you to the grave? 

Moira held her tongue after that. She had not even meant to snap, and she knew snapping on anything it would raise only more questions. As she relaxed upon her perch up on the rock, she still had her eyes narrowed. 

He began to hum her tune once more, and she huffed. Glancing away now. Till his next question, did she look back. Did she know others? Well most of the time, she combined syllables.

"Here and there, I know some others...why do you ask, then? Want me to teach you, do you?" Moira asked to the male.

Marruz shrugged. "I wouldn't mind learning something new today," he chuffed, his tone fixed to its usual remoteness. The woman clearly sequestered many tales that, to the young darkling, made her all the more arcane in his eyes.

He wished that he could have known the figures that last heard these tunes. Perhaps even the younger Moira that sang them. Any song, he knew, was written for a purpose, after all.

Moira paused at that. He was very eager to learn of a song now, wasn't he? She chuffed in an amused fashion. "You really want me to teach you, don't you?" What could she even teach him? She thought on it. Then began humming a very different tune. After the first verse, she paused it.

"This I hum when alone, when bored. To pass the time. I have no name for it, not yet..." Then she got back to it. With few low notes, mostly high notes. Rather cheery for her personality.

Marruz didn't respond to her question; took it more as a rhetorical thought than a proposition of any kind. When she began to sing, however, his attention was much more evident. There was something enchanting about the songs of the aged, wasn't there? Perhaps it was the sound of wisdom. 

He pondered a name for the song as he listened. When she concluded the tune, he murmured, "Perhaps you could call it Moira's Melody?" and then, "Do you sing it often?" 

Moira waited for a response to the hummed tune. She hoped he would just hum it, and then be on his way. But once more, Marruz was full of surprises. And even offered a name for the tune, not just any name either. Her name for it. She frowned at the notion.

"Name it...after me?" She cocked her head, as if almost amused now as the frown disappeared. "I...well, I guess I do sing it a lot...but it makes it only mine now, doesn't? Only mine to sing?" she mused with a sly look.

Marruz noticed the woman's frown. Noticed how she repeated the thought; how she reacted almost like that of a shy child. And in that moment he realized that we were all just children, after all. Children with just a bit more time upon our backs. 

"It is only yours, though," he ventured indifferently. "Anyone can sing it. But it will always be because of you." And he let his gaze follow the skyline, where the heads of trees poked along and formed what looked more like crumbled mountains than proud, soaring conifers.

"I'm no good at it," he almost laughed at that. Stood. Shook out his pelt and dipped his head like the polite boy his mother would have wanted him to be. He made as though to leave before a quick chirp for goodbye: "I'll leave the singing up to you." 

Moira was unsure on how to rely to that, now. A creation of her own. For others to...enjoy. That thought took a wide berth, and she shook her head to clear it. All she ever had always ended up being destroyed by her own carelessness. Then again, it was just a song...right? She cleared her mind again at the thought.

"Right...only mine. Would be odd to hear others singing it, but...I guess." Moira put a lot of thought into it. Then, a smile. The kind of smile someone has when an idea comes to mind. "Yes, it is quite a nice thought" she mused aloud.

"The singing, to me...well who knows. Maybe you may get better at it" she returned quickly, smiling. A gentle smile, one she had not worn for a long time. Maybe Marruz was warming up to her. And for once, she didn't clear her mind at that.