Simmaeri's voice seemed to echo back to itself in the empty street, and she let the latest note out in a sigh. This place sings little to me. Even the people, diverse as they were, seldom sang for any reason at all, save the select few. What a sad thing! To know there were people out there who either didn't grow up with song in their mouths or had lost the heart to sing.
That train of thought emerged in the melody, where she freely wove small spells of understanding within. It was a good habit to have in Exsilium, where the many languages she knew had no familiar ears but her own.
No one sings to me. Is there no one here to come to me?
She lifted a hand in a beckoning gesture, out to the open air. The suggestion was very clear, the spell only making it a demand.
no subject
That train of thought emerged in the melody, where she freely wove small spells of understanding within. It was a good habit to have in Exsilium, where the many languages she knew had no familiar ears but her own.
No one sings to me.
Is there no one here to come to me?
She lifted a hand in a beckoning gesture, out to the open air. The suggestion was very clear, the spell only making it a demand.
Come to me.
Find me.