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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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. ]