2024-06-27 - My Personal Melody - 4.5

Talking to Myrcelleth is a pleasant, soft experience, like laying in a field of flowers or wading through an early-morning mist. Little droplets clinging to you and drawing your attention towards the patterns of leaves and a the whispers of the wind.
It acts as a lullaby, as a sweet poem whispered in your ear as you are about to fall asleep that fades as soon as you catch what he is telling you. A love song, perhaps, or maybe a tale of homecoming and adoration.

It could be a little unpleasant, with how quiet it truly is, like a whisper in the back of your mind, nagging at you rather than approaching you directly. A ghostly hand in the dark vying for your attention through a field of TV static, but they don’t mean any harm! There is a pleasant weight, like a blanket weighing you down, so easy to toss away if you get too hot, too sweaty underneath it.

Despite this, Myrcelleth finds it too soft to be the true melody that he truly wants, too shy and quiet and revealing of his true nature, so he tries, truly tries to make it louder, more melodious. Maybe he will get there in time.