2024-06-27 - A Name, A Song - 4.3

One had just finally settled into having the Favourite visiting again, settling into the normalcy of it all once again, when this strange ruckus was enough to bring them out of their easy slumber. What was that? What was a guitar? They found themselves peering closer, especially when there were no falsehoods, no implications of anything other than what was. It was a relief not to be known, not to be understood as the two-legged men focused on their craft. It meant that now, they could find themselves approaching more and more, settled by the cover of their empty.

What did they mean by ‘traditional’? Why did Mother seem pleased? Was tradition not something She hated - it kept her away from her Favourite, after all…

And then the sounds started. They were like nothing one had ever heard before, where the two-legged man - Jemeer - moved his fingers, too long to look comfortable, along the strange strings and they- they made noise! A soft, sweet noise that one tried to mimic as best that he could despite nobody else hearing or understanding.

Oh, how they wanted to be heard, to be understood, how they wanted Mother to hum at his performance and be soothed just as they were, the beating of the empty settling down into an easy nothingness.

The sound, the melody that was not their own rippled through the cave as though it were a lake, reaching the edges of the clutch before echoing right back at them all. One was glad for it, he could hear it all around them now…

It came to them as suddenly as the song had started, that was what they wanted his name to be, how they wanted to sound, to present himself. He wanted to soothe others like this soothed him, even if he couldn’t do it without panicking the vast majority of the time.

What a name to pick but… it was a bit long, a bit difficult to say. What names could he choose that carried that same melody…
Mirth..? Too short, not enough to convey the song that this was, the beauty of it all. It was so plain, so nothing. Melodith? Too simple, does not roll like the Jemeer’s fingers across the strings. It was too smooth, none of the tension of a plucked string being released and echoing through its surroundings.

Myrcelleth. A lovely combination. That was his name. Myrcelleth, a song and a voice to carry it along.