#// Wow. Mans Sarin got her good didn't he?

[withperfecttempo]

@solliium asked:  " you can hear other people's - " sarin pauses, pipe tapping against the air as he searches for the word that fits " - souls. " he regards sona, waits for any sort of confirmation before he continues. " but what of your own? what does it sound like? "

It is not a question, rather, a statement. If there is anything that could describe how Sona connects and draws inspiration from the people, their emotions and experience, it is what Sarin had just spoken. A comment tied and anchored by the final, well-thought and placed word, souls. Every being emits a distinct aura. One can often pick up on the slightest hues of it when being within their proximity by doing something as simple as sitting next to them on a bench. Influenced by external and internal elements, the soul is in constant motion; perpetually fluid as it shapeshifts. Sona could only take in so much from a person, from any person; what they may tell her, what they do, how their expressions and voices fluctuate when speaking about different things, or how they take in the world which surrounds them. No two are ever the same. 

‘That is a way to place it,’ she nearly chuckles but an intrigued smile illuminates her visage. ‘Ah...no, I cannot. I suppose with my music, I wish to create something that everyone can enjoy along with finding comfort, something they can relate to in some way without too much. I cannot quite put it into words but I think that one can find joy in something such as watching a bird return to its nest at sunset.’

Sona’s face softens at the thought. She recalls how she would watch the birds so often come afternoon at the monastery. The sounds of children laughing at running about in the distance while she becomes lost in the warm, watercolored skies until she spots the birds tearing through her line of vision; gliding through the air as the day nears its end and they return to their families.Her brows lift and frame her widening eyes at Sarin’s inquiry. She blinks as she musters any bit of thought at hand she may have but could not come up with an adequate answer for she has not thought it of it, perhaps for too long.

 ‘Mine? Myself?’

Sona searches the heavens as her lips draw into a thoughtful pout. Her hands cup her knees, sliding upward towards her thighs against the smooth fabric of her skirt. With that, her gaze descends, staring ahead at nothing particular while she holds onto any idea what her soul may sound like to another. A matter of self-perception and overall reflection. Sona soon wonders if it is because she has always been occupied with looking for inspiration in others and nature that she does not delve too deeply into herself. 

Through war and prejudice, shifting tides that brought her from one home to another, it almost feels as though she has never had adequate rest. Through each struggle she endured, there was a likeness in what she had experienced in Ionia and Demacia. There was something familiar about these strangers, like her. Two worlds that had been overturned and transformed but they all were a part of her; one family and one home. The stark differences in language, cultures, struggles that each nation suffered, Sona has felt the hurt with them as well. And with every aspect clashing against one another, she still makes music that bring people together and steadily they become unafraid to listen; such were her hopes that they can find oneness in something intrinsic to the heart.

‘A cacophony that still tries to make sense of itself through harmony.’