ramblin-rover

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/* An update:

Got a new job about 2 weeks ago, barely have time to do the things I want to do. Archived until further notice */

[ramblin-rover]

/* need to at least pretend I'm active so gimme a ♡ if you'd like a starter */

[ramblin-rover]

/* need to at least pretend I'm active so gimme a ♡ if you'd like a starter */

[ramblin-rover]

"Don't do't oft'n, but I've got nothin' against't"

|| @ramblin-rover  ♥ this post for a one-line starter (still accepting) ||

«So… Don’t you like smoking?»

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On Anon, confess your muse's secrets to mine.

See how they react!

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Send me 🔀 for a song I would associate with your muse

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Send me a ✍ for me to write a small drabble about your muse from my muse’s perspective!

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Send me 🔀 for a song I would associate with your muse

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O’Valley of Plenty OoO

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The bard nods and finishes up her song. She had no use for mercenaries other than pack mules, and buying an actual pack mule would be cheaper, and less rude too.  Regardless, she was asked for a forlorn song, a forlorn song the man gets!

“The curlew stood silent and unseen in the long damp grass, And he looked down on the road bellow him that wound its way through Beal Na m Blath. And he heard the young men shouting and cursing, running backward and forward, dodging weaving and ducking the bullets that rained down on them from the hillside opposite. Just as quickly as it started the firing stopped, And a terrible silence hung over the valley. A lone figure lay on the roadside in the drizzling august rain, Dressed in green great coat, leggings and brown hob nail boots, that would never again set the sparks flying from the kitchen flagstones as he danced his way through a half set. A hurried whispered act of contrition and the firing breaks out again. The curlew takes to flight and as he flies out over the empty sad fields of West Cork, with his lonesome call he must tell the world that the big fella has fallen and that Michael is gone...”

Candles dripping blood, they placed beside your shoulders, Rosary beads like teardrops on your fingers, Friends and comrades standin by, in their grief they wonder why, Michael in their hour of need you had to go.

King was... lets be honest, King was completely lost. He'd never been to the Freljord, and now he was just sitting in the only tavern he'd come across who would serve him. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that it was the first non-Avarosan one he'd tried. Regardless, he was thankful for the good drinks and better music. On that thought, he looked over to the woman. "You take requests?"

The bard taps the open instrument case with her bow without saying a word. Mostly because she’s taking a drink out of her hip-flask. 

A few coins were sprinkled inside the case of varying values, but all-and-all, a decent night’s wages from just the tips. 

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“Aye, o’course I’m th’ only one around tae call ye on yer bullshite. Get th’ hell out o’ our lands, ye godsdamned she-witch.”

*throws a rock*

Ashes winced before turning to Gael.

Blue eyes slimmed as she crossed her arms. “Well hello there, I’m not surprised as only you would be so bold!”

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/*Apologies for the lack of activity, creative energies are being funneled into learning how to play the guitar*/

[ramblin-rover]

King was... lets be honest, King was completely lost. He'd never been to the Freljord, and now he was just sitting in the only tavern he'd come across who would serve him. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that it was the first non-Avarosan one he'd tried. Regardless, he was thankful for the good drinks and better music. On that thought, he looked over to the woman. "You take requests?"

The bard taps the open instrument case with her bow without saying a word. Mostly because she’s taking a drink out of her hip-flask. 

A few coins were sprinkled inside the case of varying values, but all-and-all, a decent night’s wages from just the tips. 

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A Different Kind of Christmas

It had been a month since Gael had sang her mother’s song for the last time in full. The song was precious to the two of them, and represented the only relationship they had before the two of them marched off to war. While the rest of the town was off celebrating the winter season, Gael sat at the bar with her life-long best friend: The Bartender, Sarah Kelley. 

“Remember t’at gift I gave ye all t’ose years ago, Gael? ”

“Ye gave me a lot o’ gifts. But I t’ink I know th’ one yer talkin’ about. Th’ year t’at I left Phointe Tosaigh, right?”

“T’at’s th’ one.”

“Why d’ye bring’t up?”

“Dunnae ye t’ink t’at singin’ ‘t would help ye out wit’ yer mo’er?”

“Nae. T’at song always made me cry.”

“Ye need tae cry, Christy. If not fer ‘er mem’ry, t’en fer th’ mem’ries ye dinnae get t’have wit’ her.”

“Fine. I’ll do’t. Lemme pull out me fiddle an’…”

“Snow is falling Christmas eve. Lights are coming on up and down the street. The sound of carols fills the air People rushin’ home, families everywhere. Putting candles in the windows, and lights upon the tree. But there’s no laughter in this house, not like there used to be There’s just a million little memories That remind me you’re not here.  It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year.

In the evening, fires glow Dancing underneath the mistletoe Letter left from Santa Claus Won’t be the same this year’ in this house because…

There’s one less place set at the table One less gift under the tree. And a brand new ache to take their place inside of me.

I’m unwrapping all these memories Fighting back the tears

It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year.

And there’s voices in the driveway Families right outside the door And we try to make this Christmas Like the ones we had before

As we gather ‘round the table. There is joy on every face And I realize what’s still alive Is the Legacy you’ve made

It’s time to put the candles in the windows And lights upon the tree It’s time to fill this house with laughter Like it used to be.

Just because you’re up in heaven Doesn’t mean that you’re not near It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year

It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year…

Gael struggles through the last few verses, but she finishes the song. Sarah wraps the bardess in a hug as she lets the tears flow freely.

/* I dedicate this post to anyone who’s lost someone this year. My heart goes out to you, and I hope you are with the people you love. Merry Christmas /**/

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           “…But give me a Ramblin’ Rover from Orkney down to Dover              We’ll roam the country o’er, and together we’ll face the world”

      | Gael Moore | The Irish Minstrel |  Multiverse OC |

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She squints at the coins for a second. Then she tilts her hand so the coins clatter against the ground. 

“Yer bringin’ down some kinda cursed shite upon t’is land by sayin’ t’at name. I’ll tell ye what ye need t’know: Ye dun fuck with th’ frostguard. Ye dun go delvin’ into t’eir ruins. An’ ye damn-sure dun tell t’eir stories wi’out findin’ a knife in yer back, unless ‘t’s th’ version t’ey want ye t’ hear. 

I’ll give ye t’ree chances t’ figure out where ye c’n stick t’ose coins o’ yers. No amount o’ coin’d be worth bringin’ more knives me way t’an i ‘ave already.”” 

"Why don't ye come stan' in th' light?"

“Who are you?”, Blis asked, still keeping himself to the shadows. It took him a moment to understand what the hell she said. Was she drunk? He couldn’t tell from here. He was forced to take a step forward, his body half bathed in the light now

“Need something of me, young lady?” Did she know who he was? Nobody should know up here.

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Kolkai turned around from her kitchenwork to spy Gael struggling on the stairs. Almost immediately, her heart plummeted. How inconsiderate she had been. She almost dropped what she was doing and took a step toward the bardess.

“G-Gael..!” she stammered, clasping her hands at her breast. She stopped as she watched the woman continue on her own. She grabbed the rest of the decorations and followed Gael several minutes later. When she found her upstairs, she set her decorations aside and took Gael’s face in her hands.

“Forgive me…” she started meekly. “I did not recall your pain.” She kissed Gael’s cheek and nuzzled her nose, despite her guilt. “I was… inconsiderate. If you need assistance going back down, please let me know!”

The Bard blushes, turning her eyes to the decorations on the walls. “Jus’....don’t go focusin’ on me when ye ‘ave all t’ese guests comin’ in, aye? As far’s me leg’s been concerned, t’is’s been a good day. An’ I didn’t plan on showin’ up ‘ere t’ cause trouble aft’r all th’ work ye’ve put inta gettin’ e’erythin’ into place.”

She gives a warm-hearted smile, pulling back from the Dancer’s grasp to scan the room. “If ye jus’ bring me fiddle up ‘ere I c’n find a place t’ be fer th’ rest o’ th’ night. Like... T’at stool o’er t’ere.”

The bard arrives early in an elegant green dress that might've even still had the tag on it if not for a 'helpful' bystander. She wears the violin case slung over her shoulder by a strap as she tugs at the fancy cloth uncomfortably. "I feel like one o' t'em hoity-toity arseholes in t'is. Do I really 'ave t' wear t'is all night? It's so tight."

“You could have worn a sweater! I have many if you would like!” She kissed Gael on the cheek and hugged her tightly. The warmth of her home met the bardess as the smells of a feast wafted on the air. “I do hope you plan to play tonight! It would be most enjoyable, yes!?”