Taking a Breather
WHO: Harpuia, OPEN
WHAT: Relaxing in the park, playing his flute, enjoying the warm days of late May before summer burns everyone to a crisp. Company is welcome!
WHEN: May 29, 2008
WHERE: Clairbourn City Park
The soft notes of a woodflute didn't pierce the air so much as moved with it. The melody floated and swayed with the wind, idly fashioned as the seconds ticked. Those who passed by the shady oak tree where the slim youth with the strange green hair reclined looked for signs of a hat or cloth for collecting coins, but the flute-player had no interest in taking people's spare change. He played because he loved the music, and if it didn't bother anyone else, then he was content.
The air smelled wonderful and fragrant, with freshly-blooming roses and all kinds of good-smelling shrubs around the pond where ducks swam with their ducklings in tow, stabbing at the bits of bread people threw into the water. Harpuia altered his song to fit the occasion, the cheerful piping softening into a series of lower notes, then dancing gaily again to honor the baby ducks.
He lowered the flute with a smile, one leg bent in front of him, the other tucked under. Exams were looming. There was a recital coming up that required perfect memorization. And there were a dozen rallies to attend as well (they always seemed to multiply when the weather got good). But for now, Harpuia was taking it easy, enjoying the simple pleasures and time away from his siblings. Not that he minded their company, but they WERE pretty loud sometimes, and having a few moments just to himself were always highly appreciated.
WHAT: Relaxing in the park, playing his flute, enjoying the warm days of late May before summer burns everyone to a crisp. Company is welcome!
WHEN: May 29, 2008
WHERE: Clairbourn City Park
The soft notes of a woodflute didn't pierce the air so much as moved with it. The melody floated and swayed with the wind, idly fashioned as the seconds ticked. Those who passed by the shady oak tree where the slim youth with the strange green hair reclined looked for signs of a hat or cloth for collecting coins, but the flute-player had no interest in taking people's spare change. He played because he loved the music, and if it didn't bother anyone else, then he was content.
The air smelled wonderful and fragrant, with freshly-blooming roses and all kinds of good-smelling shrubs around the pond where ducks swam with their ducklings in tow, stabbing at the bits of bread people threw into the water. Harpuia altered his song to fit the occasion, the cheerful piping softening into a series of lower notes, then dancing gaily again to honor the baby ducks.
He lowered the flute with a smile, one leg bent in front of him, the other tucked under. Exams were looming. There was a recital coming up that required perfect memorization. And there were a dozen rallies to attend as well (they always seemed to multiply when the weather got good). But for now, Harpuia was taking it easy, enjoying the simple pleasures and time away from his siblings. Not that he minded their company, but they WERE pretty loud sometimes, and having a few moments just to himself were always highly appreciated.