He does not sob messily, as he has when Lan Zhan has pulled him free of a nightmare; it is just a near-silent, unceasing running of tears like a stream trickling through the woods. He is grateful for that much. Easy crier though he may be, with emotions so large that they never seem to fit fully into his chest, he would like to maintain at least some dignity in front of the Ninth.
She doesn't say anything. He's afraid to raise his head.
And then the drums start, and he does.
The singer's voice is -- not unlovely, but unadorned. Plain. The rhythms sound much like the song the Ninth sang to him once, and there is a roughness to the music he is unaccustomed to hearing. Just as the inn imparts understanding for languages he does not speak, so it translates the recording's lyrics, as plainspoken and unadorned as the one who sings it.
It gets all right To dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him You'll know
Enough hair has escaped from his ponytail to half obscure his face as he looks away, tears still leaking silently down his face.
no subject
She doesn't say anything. He's afraid to raise his head.
And then the drums start, and he does.
The singer's voice is -- not unlovely, but unadorned. Plain. The rhythms sound much like the song the Ninth sang to him once, and there is a roughness to the music he is unaccustomed to hearing. Just as the inn imparts understanding for languages he does not speak, so it translates the recording's lyrics, as plainspoken and unadorned as the one who sings it.
It gets all right
To dream at night
Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below
But when you see him
You'll know
Enough hair has escaped from his ponytail to half obscure his face as he looks away, tears still leaking silently down his face.