Everything has rhythm. Everything dances.

[timedrummer]

[The earth moves deep and slow within Death Mountain, but there is a rhythm there. A power. The drummer feels it beat in him in the darkest nights, asleep in the village below. There's a kinship there, with that old power, or at least a familiarity. When he feels that beat he thinks of the days long past of the great beasts that roamed Hyrule

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[timedrummer]

[In that case she might be waiting for a while. The drummer keeps playing, thumping out a soft and easy rhythm, but he notices the girl standing nearby and smiles at her.]

I didn't expect to see anyone else on the mountain this early.

[timedrummer]

This is just the sort of place that I usually traverse. [His hands easily keep up the rhythm as he speaks.] Powerful and apart and sacred.

[timedrummer]

[There's a new power on this mountain; the drummer can sense its approach. His eyes are closed as he plays, and his lips curve into a smile as he recognizes the sense of the other being.]

[When he can hear his footsteps approaching, he opens his eyes and smiles at the great one, the god, his hands still thumping an easy rhythm.]

[He speaks in ancient Hylian, just for the pleasure of using the old dialect.] Hail, great one.

[timedrummer]

[The drummer's smile broadens; he should have known that the other immortal might be able to guess his purpose here today.] Aye. I've felt its rhythm below in the village, calling to me. Now I seek a kinship. I would that it might know me, and perhaps grant my desire.

[fierce_wanderer]

This time of day he's normally still asleep, or at least still resting, but today he seeks to climb the mountains. High places are the best places to gain his bearings, and what is higher than a mountain?

He is what he thinks is most of the way up when he hears a very familiar sound: drumming. He stops and sets his pack down, unsure if he wants to continue upwards. So he eases himself down onto the ground and waits, listening to the rhythm.

He isn't much for listening, however. He much prefers to breathe it, move it, make it. He has his drum out almost before he realizes it, running his fingers across its taut surface. Then he takes a breath and blows it out and starts drumming.

[timedrummer]

[Lost in his own rhythm, the drummer opens his eyes when he hears the second drum, the sound unexpected. It's coming from somewhere below him, but it carries clearly up the mountain. The sound joins and mingles with his so that the two rhythms seem to complete each other.]

[He smiles and changes the beat, wondering if the other unseen drummer will follow his lead.]

[fierce_wanderer]

He hears the beat shift, but for a moment he continues the old one. Even as he plays the old, however, he's listening to the new, fixing it in his mind.

Once he's comfortable that he has the new rhythm right, he shifts as well, matching the other. He dimly wonders if he's interrupting something, but he's too into the rhythm to really care.

[timedrummer]

[The other drummer takes a moment to shift instead of leaping straight in as he would--a more careful, structured player, perhaps, though probably no less practiced than he is. It's an interesting change to play with someone else. He makes a game of it, shifting into another, faster rhythm after some time.]

[dancingseasons]

(ooc: The bonus art is awesome!)

[Din, not unlike the goddess for whom she was named, is drawn to both heat and light. Therefore, it's unsurprising that Death Mountain is a favored spot of the demigoddess, and she climbs it at least once a week. Yes, in a dress and sandals. When the elements themselves are willing to give you a boost if you need one, such things become a lot easier.]

[She is on the mountain when she hears the familiar, delightful sounds of drumming. Real music! Intrigued, she follows the rhythm to its source. She doesn't know the gentleman, but she doesn't care, either. The music has her and she gives herself over to it without comment, falling gracefully into a pattern as she dances on the rocks. She doesn't speak to the drummer, but flashes him a smile as she spins; she'll have to thank him afterward. It's been some time since Din actually had music of any sort to which she could dance.]

[timedrummer]

[The drummer glances up as a young woman appears on his ledge, his head tilting, a curious smile on his lips. It's an unusual sight, a woman this high up in a dress and sandals. He waits for her to speak up first, his hands still thumping against the drum.]

[His eyebrows go up when she begins to dance, falling easily into the rhythm with the grace of a natural. His smile broadening, he continues playing, intently watching her movements.]

((ooc: thanks! glad you like))

[dancingseasons]

[Delighted, Din continues the dance. The Blessing of Warmth is hardly necessary in such a location, but she moves effortlessly through the Blessing of Wind and the Blessing of the Sun, leaping from one rock to another without a second thought.]

[Finally she sinks into a sitting position on one boulder, breathing deeply. That had felt so good. Smiling at the drummer, she waits for a lull in the music before addressing him.]

Thank you. That was fun.

[timedrummer]

[The drummer speeds up the rhythm, for the simple joy of watching her dance; her obvious enjoyment is a pleasure to see. When she takes a break he continues playing for a while, until the time seems right to let the beat fade, and he smiles as the young woman addresses him.]

Thank you for the loan of your power.

[And indeed, there was power in those dances, or so he thinks, though any such action is powerful for its own sake.]