#THANK UUUUU for sending this my friend i soooo enjoyed writing this even if it's a bit all over the place

[echospast]

@draciere : " sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord. " [ feat. simeon sommerfeld ]

SIMEON IS NEVER QUITE SURE HOW MUCH HE ACTUALLY LIKES PEOPLE, AS A GENERAL STATEMENT – BUT THEY DO FASCINATE HIM. people, of course, having a broader, all-inclusive meaning, not strictly reserved for humans. after all, simeon doesn't even consider himself fully human, although he knows many in thedas would challenge that conclusion. he'd lived enough years away from his island nature to realize that the teachings of his dear elven mother were far from commonplace, let alone universal. still, despite knowing now he will never truly find the belonging he once sought among those she called their people, he cannot find it in himself to begrudge her the desire to instill in her half-human children the love of the culture she felt slipping through her fingers – even if her version of it had been deeply idealistic. perhaps her influence is ultimately what led to his fascination. he is himself both all and other, always at least a little out of place away from the home he left, even for the time he found camaraderie amongst the veil jumpers, and yet always noticed, by nature of his easy charisma and the image he creates for himself.

so he searches for it in others, perhaps, if subconsciously, that bit of discordance, of delightful oddity with which he's eager to identify.

" new to music theory, hm? " he answers in a tone woven with dramatized sympathy. he teases, of course, and perhaps toes the lines of wisdom and propriety in the process – but the spark in his lively blue gaze as he watches his enormous companion, focused, that intense curiosity which has always lived in him practically palpable on the air. " that's rather how chords work, as it were. "

were his goal provocation, perhaps he'd be foolish to incite somebody likely twice his size. but it's not his intention, not really ; rather, his humor has always been well removed from sense and many over the years have remarked how infrequently he seems to think before he speaks. truth be told, more than anything, the cryptic nature of the other's comment tickles him. mother always said the strange things which draw him would get him in trouble someday. he heaves a sigh then, half wistful. " I suppose combat training leaves little room to indulge in the joy of the arts, does it. " his grin turns cheeky as he adds, " are you in need of a tutor? "

the bloody chamber. accepting.