#suscipe flos florem ;; fell

[love-me-broughte]

Would it not displease the wandering bard so, to cordially lull an eavesdropping warrior to his presence? Just an armored peasant watching from somewhere afar, devoid to the presence of music for what felt like countless years.

- @forthesunsglory :)

So sayeth life; the world is mine--

The flowers that bloom, and the song of the birds!

I am the daylight; I am the sunshine

So spricht das Leben, the world is mine...

The sweet comfort of music is as gentle as it ever was; even when drifting faintly through the ancient ruins of a forest outpost. Its source: a golden-haired page reclining on a sunny rock, leisurely plucking at a carved lute that seems as if it's seen many journeys. Its wielder, however, less so; with gleaming eyes and fair skin befitting someone yet unexposed to the harshness of the wilds.

Lyrics are uttered in a voice as clear as church bells, as much telling an ancient story as singing a ballad. Even from afar, the words can easily be made out, accentuated and rolled like jewels in the hand of a haughty nobleman.

The distant figure does not go unnoticed for long-- brilliant eyes grow ever brighter as they drift into the distance, a wide grin spreading across the bard's expression as they lift their hand for but a moment to wave at their audience.

"Hail, my good traveler! Please, won't you come closer? Music is made leagues better with an audience, after all!"

[love-me-broughte]

 ☆ Fell, the Wandering Bard ☆ Any+All Pronouns

likes and follows come from @gehrmansbignaturals

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[love-me-broughte]

what’s peculiar about your soul?

your soul is... ALLURING

THE WANDERING BARD

It draws attention from every corner of the ether... People come from far and wide to marvel at it. Statues, clay figurines, portraits are made in its likeness... Songs are written of its beauty and splendor. Every day it is greeted by hoards of ceaseless, staring eyes. Every day it is treated with visits from its enamored guest. You try with all your might to communicate with them. To engage with them. To be more to them than an object on display- unthinking, unfeeling. They can not hear you.

tagged by: @arbredevies

tagging: @rottenbladeofmiquella @abyss-eyes @knightdialloshoslow

[love-me-broughte]

"HEY, YOU! CAN YOU PLAY ME A SONG FIT FOR THE KING OF DEMONS?"

"A song fit for the king of demons..." The bard hums in thought, looking down upon the king in question with veiled curiosity. They drum their fingers on the surface of their lute, thinking to themselves for but a moment. Well now, it's been quite a while since anyone at all has asked them to play, let alone someone so... noteworthy.

"Let's see here... I certainly do, and I hope it is up to your standards, your majesty." A playful smile drifts across their softened features, adjusting the ancient lute in their lap as they prepare to play. Frosty eyes drift closed as deft fingers caress the strings of the instrument, his head swaying ever so slightly to the tune he picks out.

Wynter wakeneth al me care Nou this leves waxeth bare; Ofte I sike and mourne sare When hit cometh in my thoht Of this wourld's joie, hou hit goth al to noht... The song has the aura of something distinctly ancient, from both the lyrics itself, and the reverence they are sang with. The bard allows the last few notes to hang in the brisk air, staring off into the distance as if watching them drift away. "I cannot quite remember where I learned that song," they say at last, leaning back leisurely against a wall, "but I hope it was what you wished to hear."