driftfleet | Let Me Sing You the Song of My People

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Let Me Sing You the Song of My People

Who: Vanyel Ashkevron & Anyone
Broadcast: Yes
Action: S.S. Starstruck
When: Now

[ The feed pops open to show Vanyel, his hair pulled back in a loose queue that falls over one shoulder. It's like he tried his best to look good for this broadcast, but that surely was not it at all. He didn't even bother to dye out that gray streak running from his temple back into the rest of his hair. In his arms he is cradling a guitar in his arms, fingers idly plucking, soft little twangs underscoring his words when he speaks. ]

Good day - evening, perhaps? It is so hard to tell on the ships.

I was wondering, as we travel to our new destination, if any one would wish to share the music of their home worlds with me? Music has always been a passion of mine, and I feel that the music of a world tells a much deeper story than simply words. I would appreciate, and be honored, to hear yours.

[ For those who are aboard the Starstruck, he is sitting in what counts as his room, strumming the guitar though the tune itself is something that is more at home in a medieval king's court than it is aboard a sleek spaceship - or even on a guitar. He will gladly receive any visitors who wish to stop by. ]

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[ oh, she can't be denied her curious soul -- her investigative nature. and although she's barely been aboard the starstruck for more than a few days, there's little that stops her from poking her nose into places that raise her interest. and the music -- floating sweetly on the air -- draws her to his door.

she is the new recruit on the ship. the strange face. she's been closed off -- impersonal -- but that's changing day by day. her knuckles rap against the doorway. ]

All work and no play, hm? [ a terse smile. the music reminds her a little of greensleeves. ]

_{[ Vanyel feels there is little to hide on the ship. So long as they
respected each other's private quarters when the doors were closed, the
ship reminded him much of the Collegium grounds - open to all. It was far
to small to try and fight over every square inch, though they all needed
some little nook to call their own. ]}

If one can call this work, I believe I am in the wrong profession - both here and in my own world.

You are our new crew mate, correct?

[ she'd meant, of course, that it was play: that all work and no play make for a dull boy, and such she could appreciate what play he managed. but the meaning seems lost to the awkwardness of a first meeting. so she smiles her impersonal smile and lets it stay lost.

a little more tactfully: ] I am. Peggy Carter, if you like.

[ approaches near enough to offer a hand. ]

_{[ He's from an era where such sayings weren't so common, and he can be
prone to taking things literally. Sorry Peggy. He is a quick learner
though. He smiled at her in return, though he thought something was off
about hers - reserved, perhaps, the smile of a courtier in a strange court
without friends. ]}

Vanyel Ashkevron. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Carter.

_{[ He didn't think she had a title, but he had learned that it amused
most women he met, and so he added it and was quite sincere about it. He
took her hand, but instead of shaking, he cupped it and kissed the back.
All with a perfectly straight face. ]}

Have you been settling in well on our little ship?

Oh, please. [ a small gesture with the flat of her hand. ] Miss Carter will do just fine. Even Peggy will stand in a pinch, if you must. But I've never held any title that would warrant being called Lady Anything.

[ she might have attended school with a few distant almost-nobles. third cousins of dukes and that sort. but peggy -- ah, well. at least the kiss on the back of her hand is a little more understandable. it reminds her of dress-uniform nights at the officer's clubs around london. ]

But I suppose I'm settling in alright. As well as can be expected, at least.

Miss Carter, then.

_{[ He inclined his head to her, releasing her hand and resting his back
atop his guitar. His mother had trained him well in how to treat a lady,
and he had never forgotten those lessons. They served him well, especially
at court, and when dealing with people in general. Everyone liked a little
courtesy, especially the courtesy they thought might be due someone of
higher station. ]}

It is difficult, being taken from your world and thrust into such a place as this. I can assure you it does not last, though it might be years before you see home again.

_{[ He motioned to the instrument. ]}

Any requests? If you hum or sing, I can generally pick up the tune.

Rule Britannia would likely be a touch too crass. [ her smile is slow and ghostish. it exists as a mere hint and no more. ] Please, continue playing whatever it is you like to play. It sounded very pretty.

And one I am not familiar with, unfortunately.

_{[ So he did not understand why it would be crass, though he has a
feeling it has to do with the world she hails from. ]}

Ah, that? It was a ditty I picked up in a tavern one evening when I was on Circuit. A quiet little village. I was surprised to hear it being played, actually, but I couldn't help but it pick it up.

Do you play by ear, Mister Ashkevron? [ she weaves her way through the name with shocking alacrity and grace. ] That's rather impressive.

I can if I listen long enough. I suspect it is part of my Bardic Gift - that and having to play accompaniment to my mother's ladies whenever the mood took them.

_{[ His voice is wistful at the memory. ]}

A bard, then. [ she sounds a little surprised. ] How curious.

Haha, if only. I spent my youth wishing to be a Bard, but such is not my fate. I am a Herald - Herald Mage to be precise. I simply also have the Bardic Gift, though it pales to a true Bard.

_{[ Yes, Peggy, that many capitals really is necessary. ]}

I'm rather afraid you might have lost me somewhere about the middle of that explanation. [ a thin smile. ] Shall we start over, perhaps? From the beginning?

Ah, yes. I sometimes forget whom I have explained this to and not.

_{[ He cleared his throat. ]}

In my world, I am known as a Herald, agents of the crown Chosen by Companions. We aid the people of the kingdom from threats within and without, and act as the King's voice in the far villages for disputes and enforcing law. We use our Gifts - that is, magic is the easiest term for it - to aid the people and defend the nation.

Something like a magistrate-cum-MI5-agent. Apart from the magic, of course.

I suppose so, though I admit I do not know what an MI-5 agent is.

Ah, I should mention - one of my Gifts is Healing. If you find yourself hurt, you may come to me and I can use my Gift to aid your healing. It is not very strong, but it will be enough to reduce pain and shorten the time you must spend healing.

A nurse, as well? By golly, you're well-rounded.

Hardly so well trained as a nurse, but enough I can deal with minor injuries the crew might face. My actual 'job' so to speak is security. Or what I am supposed to do at any rate.

What did they give you, if I might be so bold?

_{[ He tapped the back of his own neck to make sure she knew what he
meant. ]}

[ she nods -- and her fingers touch the curl of hair against the nape of her neck, indicating (wordlessly) that she understands his meaning.

as for the specifics: ] Communications. A rather universal term for the position, as I take it, because it sounds rather similar to duties I've known back home.

An important one too. If we lost communication with the fleet...

_{[ He frowned, touching the metal walls and shivering a bit. ]}

Is this your first time on a space ship, Miss Carter?

Second, [ she answers shrewdly. ] But that's only counting the Marsiva as my first.

_{[ He chuckled. ]}

I felt safer on the Marsiva, oddly enough. Thicker walls, I suppose.

Skiffs in the shadow of a galleon. [ her own smile is muted. lost, a little, in her hesitation. ]

Something like that, though truth be told I have never been on a galleon either. My country was landlocked. All we had were river boats, if that.

What did you do back home, Miss Carter? Something communications related?

[ the old line (i work for the telephone company) mightn't work. not here, where old comrades-in-arms stalk the edges of her experience. but neither should she oversell her involvement in the war and with the s.s.r., choosing instead to pick her way carefully around a half-truth: ]

Do the words Signal Corps mean anything to you? [ gentle steps. there is culture shock here. ]

Let Me Sing You the Song of My People

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