Brumm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
songinchains) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
datadiving2018-10-02 12:51 pm
songinchains) wrote in datadiving2018-10-02 12:51 pm
idk insert something witty here
[ Catchall for this character specifically, because it's cleaner to have multiple threads in the same post tbh ]
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[He meant that, without a shadow of a doubt. Awkward though it may have been, that was truthful, and being able to hear Brumm's music again-- filled him with a quiet excitement that was almost uncharacteristic of his usually flamboyant stature.
He turned towards the tent, giving one of the Grimmsteeds a scratch under the chin before he swept open the flap of the tent-- even holding it open for Brumm to enter, and giving a light bow.]
Or, to hear you play it again.
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(Brumm was quiet, but that didn't translate to not being expressive. The small, subtle sounds he made were expressions in themselves, though his mask remained impassive.)
He notes that little politeness extended to him, and it's that small gesture that seems to make things fall into place in his head. The Ritual is done, the child is grown - and Grimm is still here. And so is he. ]
Maybe...something new is more appropriate. Mrmm.
[ He takes a quiet breath to steady himself before he begins, eyes closing behind his mask once more.
The song that comes out is...not completely new, of course, because he has always played for the Troupe, and even in this, he still is.
But the melody is both unfamiliar and not. Something more unrestrained, more carefree, wilder than his music usually is. The sort of song that gives people the urge to dance and to laugh without restraint.
(Before the Troupe, there were times past, and a name and an identity he left behind; his old life burned away by the flame by his request. But there is still some happiness to be found, buried deep in those old memories; festivals and celebrations with music that lasted well into the night.
He is sharing something deeper of himself, his own heart, in this. It is what makes the song new.) ]
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[It's an idle question, because in no time at all it is answered. In its form the song is familiar-- one often heard inside the tent, throughout his life, filling the little town they'd been brought to when the Ritual began. There's a nostalgia that makes Grimm feel grateful for his new life even more; one that was truly his own, instead of another vessel for the Nightmare's Heart.
It wasn't long before he was moving in familiar steps-- only a few, here and there, as he swayed to the tune. He felt like he wanted to dance, more than he ever did before, and while Brumm's music was had never fallen short before, there was something about the way he played now that made him want to even more. It was more than a performance piece, or atmosphere, or even something for the Ritual. It sounded like a celebration, or maybe that was Grimm's own good mood? No, no-- it as impossible to mistake Brumm's tunes for anything else.
For some time he just listens; sways, and enjoys. But eventually, he finally looks at Brumm again, still smiling, but this time with a simply joy, like before they'd ever had to worry about the next Ritual.]
Is this what you found out there, while you were wandering away from our eyes? It's magnificent...!
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He continues to play for a while, with no particular planned end to the song; simply enjoying it for what it is, for what pleasure his master is clearly taking from it.
Eventually, though, he breathes out again, and opens his eyes, and - ah. Grimm is smiling at him, and it is not the kind of smile he usually wears, and that - he stops thinking for a moment, and his breath catches a little.
(If he had not already accepted his feelings a long time ago, he would have flustered about something like this happening, but it's an undeniable fact that his attachment to Grimm goes far, far beyond being his accompaniment.)
But he's being asked a question, so Brumm blinks and attempts to muster his words, still in a slight daze. It's a good thing he's not talkative so it's less obvious that he's actually scrambling for something to say; it seems more like a slightly longer pause than usual. ]
...Mrmm. I am happy you enjoyed it so much, Master.
It is...something from my memories. From old festivals...Mrmm. Before I came to the Troupe.
[ The Troupe only attended dying lands, after all. No festivals were to be had in a kingdom's quiet death; only in its rise, in its continued life.
That careless, wild melody comes from somewhere held within himself. ] I thought it would be...appropriate.
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Needless to say, it was a surprise to hear it brought up.] From such celebrations of land and life... I am flattered you think my return is... appropriate.
[He took a step to the side, although his foot was aimed up; and another two steps and there Grimm was, sitting upside down in the air as if it was natural. He no longer had the power of the Nightmare's Heart, but he could still retain some tricks at least.]
I have never heard you so jubilant. [In the music at least-- Brumm seemed to be even more at a loss for words than usual when it came to speaking, but it was incredibly charming.] Would you tell me more? I do so love to hear you speak about such joyous things.
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His head turns a little to follow Grimm's movement; there's a soft exhale of a laugh from the musician when his master seats himself upside down. It's something Grimm has done uncountable times, an old trick, but still an amusing one.
Then they return to the subject of the past, and Brumm hums thoughtfully for a moment. ] Mrmm...There is not much to tell. It was a long time ago. I was...very young. There was a celebration, in spring. For spring.
[ He tries to recapture the music in his head, and gloved fingers move on his instrument to play the notes. Halting at first, and then smoother, as he murmurs half-remembered words along with the tune.
His songs have always been wordless. This melody snared from old, faded memories is not; a simple little song about one person encouraging shy flowers to bloom more quickly, so they might enjoy the colours with another.
It might feel out of place in the tents of the Troupe, but even an old, endless song needs some variation now and then.
(And if Grimm pays attention to the words Brumm is still sort of absentmindedly murmuring, it becomes increasingly clear that the 'another' the song refers to is clearly that person's lover.
He...hasn't actually noticed yet. He's too caught up in remembering the song. But if his feelings weren't obvious before, they probably are now, because he certainly remembers other festivals and other old songs and the fact he picked this one is...telling.) ]
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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?
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Really, it's not for him either. Even before he joined the Troupe, there would have been no way to regain that time, to go back to the point where there was something to sing about.
He had used his voice as his instrument, before, but after everything that had happened, he had never felt compelled to use it again. Not for anything else, and especially not in the service of the Troupe; the songs had sounded lifeless when he tried.
He had entertained that perhaps he would have been able to sing again, as other feelings he kept well-hidden unfurled themselves, but that was...another problem entirely. His feelings lent power to his songs. It would have been unmistakeable, and that would have made things
terribly, terribly complicated. No. Better to let it lie, to let his voice go unused, to rust -- than to create another burden to carry.
Love was not forbidden, no; the Troupe were individuals, beholden to a single purpose though they were. But it was...inadvisable, for various sensible, realistic reasons.
He had known this. It had done little to prevent his feelings. But it's an old, soft ache, now, tempered by time, and he...
He is content to be able to play for his master, to know that Grimm enjoyed his music and his company, and it would have to be enough.
He finishes his song, and returns to playing something more familiar. More to keep his hands occupied, than anything; it helps him think.
He looks up, when Grimm asks his question. ]
Mrmm. Of course, Master. What is it?
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Is there... perhaps someone you could see yourself enjoying the flowers with? Supposing that spring would come?
[He was-- nervous! How delightfully different. It was uncharted territory and an unsettling feeling, but looking at Brumm, Grimm found himself smiling nevertheless.]
I know there is someone I can see.
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Yes. Of course. [ Again, the answer is immediate, something he doesn't have to think about at all. (Which proves that it's something he's thought about an awful lot.) ] Even if it is inadvisable...Mrmm. My feelings for him have never faded.
[ He's still somewhat distracted and off-balance, and so he doesn't really process what Grimm has said until after his immediate, no-filters responses have done the answering for him.
(His Master asks - Grimm asks - and he answers. That is how it is, has always been.) ]
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There's a slightly strangled chord as he stops playing entirely because it's hard to play an instrument that requires two hands when you're using one of them to cover your face. ]