jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.COM (Jane Beckman x2637) (01/18/90)
A couple of people come into The Place and do a slight double-take at a very misty and transparent Alaric sitting at Jilara's table. She smiles and shrugs, spreading her hands. "I said I had a few small magicks at my disposal. This is only a bit of astral projection, but he wanted to come see everyone here, despite his being Elsewhere." At this point, the door softly opens (somewhat unusual, as the door of the Place normally bangs noisily) and a handsome but sad-eyed bard walks in. He is dressed in a blue velvet doublet, a matching cap with a white plume, and blue hose. The doublet is puffed and slashed to show a blouse of purple satin underneath, and his boots are soft and low, of brown doeskin. He walks toward the Empath's corner, and bows first to Taldin, then to Jilara. He nods at Alaric, and pulls up a chair. People sense that something odd is going on, but aren't sure what. His fingers pick chords on his lute, playing with exquisite skill... He begins to sing. Cold as the northern winds, in December mornings, Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore. Winter has come too late, too close beside me How can I chase away these fears deep inside? I'll wait the signs to come, I'll find a way I will wait the time to come I'll find a way home. My light shall be the moon, and my path the ocean. My guide the morning star, as I sail home to you. I'll wait the signs to come, I'll find a way, I will wait the time to come, I'll find a way home. Who then can warm my soul? Who can quell my passion? Out of these dreams - a boat I will sail home to you... As the last notes of his lute slowly die away, he says softly, "With thanks to Maire Brennan for writing this song, so that I could know it to play it for you this night." He then turns and leaves without a word. Alaric has been looking at the bard since the moment he entered, looking first startled, then puzzled, then thoughtful, and now has a ghost of a smile like a man who has just glimpsed enlightenment. Jilara looks thoughtfully at Alaric. "Friend of yours?" she asks. "Oh yes," he says, shaking a misty head, "A very old friend..." ---- Disclaimer: I am not responsible for the content of postings other than my own, even if I do seem to sometimes be channelling missing persons. ---- ---Jilara the Exile <motcsd!fsdcupt!jane@apple.com> (I hope.) "If I'm not home accepting what I cannot change, I'm out changing what I can't accept." ---Ashleigh Brilliant (alternate identity may be jane@fsdcupt.csd.mot.com---don't you love computers with identity crises?)