2024-06-27 - Are they speaking?

Rioth had been eager for new thoughts and people to flutter through her mindscape as time passed; she'd poke and prod each one, peel them apart and find them beautiful before gaily digging into the next. There was always something to learn and often a lot to adore.

These two newcomers, however, very quickly brought a cacophony. And that was NOT something for Rioth to adore...was it?

It had been completely unexpected, those noises the harp made. They were loud, they were fast - and they seemed to have purpose.

"Are they speaking?" She very nearly shouted, but this didn't seem quite the time for her big voice - so after coming to grips with her utter disorientation, she decided to do what had served her the most good so far: quiet down and listen.

And so Rioth tried, curling tighter in her confines with the effort. She reached out to Mother for an explanation, and tried to make sense of how she responded to whatever was going on, out there. Then reached to the harper, and found...counting. Jemeer was counting and his hands were moving - quickly, so quickly. He was responsible; he could talk, though, surely, what was this about?

Frustrated, she listened with her own ears and the ears of those closest to her. The sounds were incredibly gentle even as each one landed sharply.

This one is Pertemarth leaving. Rioth did not know how else to explain it, but listening to the plunky sounds had been like that. They were plunking and then they would turn and plunk something different, and it would drag Rioth's feelings in its wake.

The next one was the flying dreams, and it was Rioth and Gwyllanth alone and safe with eatch other in a sea of stars.And sometimes it was Rioth with her siblings. The plunks were happy and small.

That last set of plunks tbough had felt very...bubbly. They were different. They were funny. It wasn't the bubbles of romance that she often enjoyed spotting on her Mother.

But these plunks were very special, she thought, as the plunks bent and danced over notes in incredibly strange ways. These plunks could be funny, these plunks could be all of those other feelings. These plunks were at play.

Quietly, she wriggled within her confines. These plunks would be hers, she decided. When she made feelings happen, she would like them to feel like this; she would strive for this.

When it was finished, she felt and lamented the Harper's absence.