[Spring-- spring was a time of life. Life returning to the plants and the world after the harshness of winter finally melted away, and warmth overtook the world. It was obvious why it would be celebrated-- but that was never a time for the Troupe. They came in the wake of that final, deadly winter, and their rebirth was born through the ashes of the demised, not the will of the sleeping plants. It was a time of love, for those separated to be reunited, or so the songs and stories go.
It's not for them-- but Grimm listens anyway. And the words about shy flowers and the simple enjoyment of Being with your lover were clear to his ears.
Love was not precisely forbidden for the Troupe, or even the Master of the Troupe; but rarely had it ever taken root. Their life was singular in meaning and purpose, and at least for Grimm himself-- it wasn't forbidden, but it was simply too cruel to inflict the burden of a heart on someone who knew they would one day have to watch it burn.
Perhaps that was why Brumm had left when they began the Ritual. It had been a flight of fancy-- a romantic tragedy for the ages if it had been true, but if it was, then Grimm had known he had made the right decision in keeping it to himself, when the Ritual had been too hard for Brumm to watch.
And yet, here it fell again that he was still here, beyond anyone's expectations. For how much longer, they could never truly say; perhaps the flames of the Nightmare had done irreparable damage on this vessel, and this was merely a grace period of extended life. But still. Perhaps....]
....
[He's quiet for awhile more after Brumm's lyrics are over, wrapping his cloak tight around him as all the thoughts tumble through his head.]
no subject
It's not for them-- but Grimm listens anyway. And the words about shy flowers and the simple enjoyment of Being with your lover were clear to his ears.
Love was not precisely forbidden for the Troupe, or even the Master of the Troupe; but rarely had it ever taken root. Their life was singular in meaning and purpose, and at least for Grimm himself-- it wasn't forbidden, but it was simply too cruel to inflict the burden of a heart on someone who knew they would one day have to watch it burn.
Perhaps that was why Brumm had left when they began the Ritual. It had been a flight of fancy-- a romantic tragedy for the ages if it had been true, but if it was, then Grimm had known he had made the right decision in keeping it to himself, when the Ritual had been too hard for Brumm to watch.
And yet, here it fell again that he was still here, beyond anyone's expectations. For how much longer, they could never truly say; perhaps the flames of the Nightmare had done irreparable damage on this vessel, and this was merely a grace period of extended life. But still. Perhaps....]
....
[He's quiet for awhile more after Brumm's lyrics are over, wrapping his cloak tight around him as all the thoughts tumble through his head.]
May I ask you something, my dear musician?