Cash67
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Pic sighed. “Because every time I make a point to do something for someone else and plan ahead, it winds up not mattering, not working, or worse, falling apart. I’ve watched myself for 20-odd years. I know I don’t plan. Because if I do, something breaks, or falls, or is corrupted. It is what happened with the Oath Rod mission. Ever since then, I have made sure my time at the Clinic has served no real, long-term purpose. I want it to, but I hold myself back.” He paused and looked Aventine directly in the eyes. “As much as I hate knowing I’ve never heard a symphony, and never will, I’d rather never hear it if I am going to be the cause of the symphony going off key.”
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Pic laughed. “That rarely happens! You’re witnessing history here.”
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“It will be a short song,” Pic replies after some thought. “But it is better to have heard a symphony once than never known of its existence.”
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“What?” Pic responds, equal parts happiness and concern in his voice.
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He looked quizzically at her face.
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Hoping that it was helping, Pic took his left hand, tilted her chin upwards, and wiped away a few tears. Aventine sees a smile full of contradictions. Hope and sadness, joy and pain are all reflected in Pics face. “Shall we?” Pic asks, and not waiting for an answer, he slashes at the air, summons his staves, and starts waltzing with her in place. Every hum he and Aventine makes is recorded, and echoes back a feeling of peace inside of the pain. The stave swirls around them as it does before, keeping them close.
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Pic started rocking back and forth slowly to the tune of the waltz. Not enough to move their feet, but just enough for the two of them to feel the rhythm.
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Pic recognized she was humming, but he couldn't tell what. By instinct, he almost summoned his staves, but that would require pausing the embrace. Instead, he hummed a simple waltz bassline that harmonized with what she was humming. A feeling of peace emanated off of Pic and hovered around her, waiting for her to take it if she chose. Pic took the hand that was on her head and placed it just below her right shoulder blade, the place one would put it if they were dancing with a partner.
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After a while, Pic begins to softly hum a slow, deep waltz. It causes his lungs and vocal cords to resonate with a soothing vibration. Out of instinct, his fingers begin to tap on her back in rhythm with the song.
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"Wasn't that gonna be the case anyway with the injuries we both have?" Pic replied with a chuckle. "This is more important than other things I could be doing."
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Pic let his shirt become soaked and then did a quick whistle. At this melody, the water trapped in his shirt flew around and behind him, and then plopped into the sink. He moved one of his hands to the back of Aventine's head and held her. "Take as long as you need," Pic said in a calming voice.
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Insanity Clinic For The Moderately Brandofandonitis Afflicted
Cash67 replied to Going_North_cal's topic in Roleplaying
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Insanity Clinic For The Moderately Brandofandonitis Afflicted
Cash67 replied to Going_North_cal's topic in Roleplaying
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Pic stiffens for a minute, but then relaxes and pulls her in closer. He could feel the sadness and emotional distress radiating off of her, almost see the stress fracturing her and breaking her down. He hugs her tight, trying to keep her together in the best way he thinks he can right now. He doesn't make any moves to let her go until she starts to pull away.
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Pic stands by her chair, offers her a hand to get up, then pulls her into a warm embrace.
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Pic nods slowly, and is purely silent for a while. After a few moments, he replies, "I'm sorry. I generally have music to make people feel better, but I don't think you'd want that." He hesitates for a moment longer, then asks, "Would you like a hug instead?"
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How has thy day of birth been thus far?
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Bendy
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"Anytime I'm just humming, sing along! I'll adapt to you." After Jar Man leaves Pic turns to Aventine. "For a person who doesn't like making music, you are phenomenal at what music you do make."
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Pic nods, walks across the room, and pulls up a chair to join the circle. “I did some of that in my early years. Got boring pretty quickly. Harder to harmonize with a piano.”
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Pic nods. “Hard to break.”
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Pic shrugs, grips the armrest of Aventines chair, and hums a conclusion to this song by speaking, “It’s your hand, so you have nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you took my hand.” He fell quiet, and looked at Aventine with concern.
