The Pahthan winds always managed to reach their way to any place remotely near the coast, no matter the miles put in-between them. One could just about smell the salt in those deep, blue waves that crashed against the Torphin port. Persilia felt like she could hear the gulls cry as the fishermen drew in their catches for the day. The strong smell of gutted fish and the sounds of sails being cast out against the wind as they rocked gracefully along the ocean surface. How she always longed to be out on the sea, listening to the vocals of the deep, bellowing whales. But, there was another kind of music one couldn’t find out in the blue. The sound of vibrance. Persilia walked with a certain pep in her step as her leather shoes clanked against the cobble flooring. Nearly everything in Pahtha was cobble and stone, so Persilia was used to it. At least it made for a good beat in Persilia’s mind. Not only her feet clanked against the hard flooring, but so did the crowd that shuffled among her. The festival seemed to be thriving, as long as you didn’t take a second look at the slums, that is.

With her chin held high for multiple reasons, Persilia struggled to see where her path lead to in the heaping mound of giants that flooded her vision. Curses. Why’d she have to be so damn short? More importantly, why was everyone so damn tall? You’d think a demi-god would be some kind of monster among men. Weren’t God’s always scribed as some ethereal, large beings? She didn’t know if her dad was small, hell, she didn’t even know if he was a he. Did Gods have genders? Could they take the morphs of animals? People lead her to believe that, at least. Trying not to go back into the loophole of her father, Persilia ‘pardoned’ her way through the mess of people.

She was wearing an airy, white, fluffed, wool tunic with a special, expensive (Gods did she regret spending anything on it), laced bodice belt corset-like fabric on the outside. It tucked in and made her curves look far more voluminous than they really were. Given her bust is on the smaller side, it managed to make it pop out more. It was a comfortable fit, dark blue in coloration to match her almond-shaped eyes, with silvery lacing and intricate white details that danced their way along it. After all, she was in the festival. Where clowns and jesters made bank off of looking extravagant and wrapping their audience around their fingers.

Her legwear is a simple, well-fitted yet flexible black pair of pants finished with a dark brown pair of leather boots. Of course, she couldn’t be average. So, she had extra cuffed wrists and shoulders to bring her look to life. On the edges of both hips, her tunic bore small, yet noticeable, fancy ruffles that trickled just past the tunic’s lining in a tail-like way. Instead of keeping her hair back and out of her face, she let the inky waves trickle down her backside. Her smooth hair is usually straight at the stem of her head, slowly waving out as it reaches toward the end, and finally coiling up and twisting around each other at the last couple of inches left. Her onyx hair seemed to be the main pull of her outfit, other than, of course, her favorite lady hat.

It was well rimmed with a slight dip and tilt, the shade of a dark blue, with a silvery band. Two large, curly black feathers poked up on the right side, curling in an elegant arch, having brisk, silvery feathering poke out along its way. It was large, loud, and erected itself among the crowd. Just about a beacon. Something that made a matchy-matchy entrance among the colorful wardrobe that surrounded Persilia. Her pale olive skin was shaded by her hat, thankfully shielded by the sun. Her eyes, almost unnoticeable, were hidden away as she struggled to get past the last push of people to go through. The lute on her back shifted from side to side, the strap that fastened the instrument to her was rubbing along her waist vigorously as she ended up having to shove her way through them all.

Of course, since she wanted to look like eye candy, she couldn’t go without at least some of her jewelry on. This included the silvery necklace with gems planted inside, along with the heaps of bracelets that accompanied her wrists, jingling every time she made an exaggerated movement with them. Her ears were adorned with small, studded, yet noticeable jewels laced with silvery outlining. Overall, looking at Persilia was like looking at a pale magpie covered in its favorite jewels. Magnificent but obviously a tad obsessed. But, she pulled it off well.

“Are you positive, though? I mean just look at them. They don’t seem worth the coin.” Persilia glanced to a picky old woman who was pointed at a market man’s apples, in which case, were mixtures of greens and reds. They were a good way off, but she could hear them as if they were whispering in her ear. In fact, many of the conversations going on were right in her ear. She did a good job with balancing out who she wanted to hear and blocking out the rest, but at times, it became unbearable. Which was the main reason she liked to flood it out with music. Right now, she accidentally fixated on this couple’s squabble about… the color of an apple?

Right then and there, as Persilia was staring down this woman, she ran into an in fact, quite beefy elbow. “AHCK” She was taken abroad and took a couple of steps back, her hat now tilted out of her face, allowing the sun to pierce her pupils. “My apologies,” A deep voice crackled among the crowd, and Persilia pulled her ears away from the old couple, and onto the man she had just run into. He had a fair mop of hair for a head, colored with healthy chocolates and blacks. He was pale, almost deathly so, and bore salmon-hued thin lips with a fuller upper lip that accented his somewhat large nose. As Persilia took him in, he was more on the average side of cute. Far too old for Persilia’s taste, but still cute. He has a fuzz of gray whiskers that mixed with his brown tufts on his beard, but you could tell he tried to keep it clean-shaven.

His eyes were a piercing hazel color and dug right into Persilia like daggers. “Excuse me, young lady, are you from around here?” A fuzzy brow lifted as he analyzed Persilia’s outfit, before looking to her lute. “A musician? That reminds me of my Wife, you see-“ The man’s gruff voice had that kind of tone that would just carry a conversation on for ages. And although Persilia didn’t even know if she was going in the right direction, she certainly didn’t want to fiddle with small talk at the moment. “You’re excused,” She gave a quick, honeyed yet condescending glance as she walked briskly past him.

“Freedom,” She dramatically exasperated, seeing an opening into a thinner area. As if she were on her last leg, she practically made a whole scene getting through the last few bits of people who were in her way. Finally, she was able to spread her arms out without touching a single soul. Just outside of the busy street, in a well-opened area was a perfect place to perform. Especially since multiple roads connected to her spot. She leaned against a lonely, empty light pillar, observing those who were around her.

The place was set up for a festival, in which intrigued Persilia to come. She could make a heavy pocket with all the attraction that was set up here. Beautiful, colorful silk was wrapped around the pillar, floating around like the sails on a ship would. How she missed sailing. It took a good bit to get here, so she wanted to get back to that feeling sooner rather than later. Persilia glanced around before snatching a piece of loose cloth from the pillar's extravagent colors, comparing it to her own. Did orange fit her? She could probably pull it off... Hell, why not.

Slipping out a small dagger of sorts, Persilia dug it into the fine cloth, snatching a lengthy piece for herself. She wrapped it on the exposed bits of her instrument, allowing it to look more attracting. She, herself, wasn't so bad. Sure, she wasn't adorned with purples, oranges or reds, which most musiscions tended to wear, but she liked her outfit. It was simple if you were to glance at her, yet complex the more you looked at it. Plus, those color schemes, in her eyes, just didn't mix well. Sliding down the post onto the hard stone flooring, Persilia regretted not grabbing some kind of cushioning for herself. "OHohoho," She exclaimed, a slight, painful chuckle escaping her, hopping right back up onto her feet when her bottom had contracted the heat that the floor gathered over time in the sun.

Rubbing her sides, brushing off external dirt, Persilia huffed. I was surprised, thats all... there's no way its that hot already, it's barely even morning... She took a second try at sitting down, immediately regretting it. Oh fuck me its hot. She winced slightly before become used to the heat. It warmed up her sides and allowed her to cross her legs over each other. She pulled the instrument into her arms, allowing her elbow to rest on the wooden curve of it as her left hand readily hovered over its neck.

Persilia Dycoris

Feminine || 22 || Ydur || Pahthan || Mentions: Opal (dir.) Iliane & Velarie (ind.)

Persilia took a shallow breath, raking her mind for any idea of what to play. It wasn’t that she lacked inspiration, it was that she lacked the ability to choose just one at a time. Being the daughter of Ydur, Persilia was made for music. Some part of her wanted to just… live up to that. It wasn’t like she had practiced day and night, as the talent for music just came with her. Some may call her unappreciative for her skill, but Persilia did appreciate it. She just couldn’t find ways of expressing that. While her music was free and without restrictions, she did have one rule. Never play the same song in the same audience. She most definitely had played songs for at least some people in this festival. She just knew it. The odds that one person in the massive, bellowing activity had never heard her play was very slim.

She had multiple reasons for this, of course. But those are reasons she doesn’t tend to go in-depth about. She lifted an arm behind her, splitting the hair that fell behind her onto either side of her shoulders, allowing the beautiful, onyx hair to drip over her chest and coil at the middle mark of her torso. Her voluminous hair framed her heart-shaped face well, giving her an even more feminine look. She reached for her feathered hat, plucking it off the top of her hair and laying it upside down against the ground, a couple of feet from her. If she wanted to play in another fancy gathering, she’d have to catch the eye of a noble first. This was the main reason she dressed so eloquently. Her almond eyes drifted over the crowd, which seemingly ignored her, other than the occasional glance toward her outwardly appearance.

She cleared her throat before dragging the lute onto her lap. Working her wrists in a circular motion, she prepared to play. Her lanky feathers delicately touched the strings, first letting them dance across each one to make a harmonious note as she warmed herself up. This was nothing compared to what she usually played, it was muscle memory for the real thing. The very slight glimpse of music in the crowd had already attracted a child, whose hand was wound so tightly around his mothers that he dragged her along. “There are plenty of other bards in the crowd, stop tugging me around like a flimsy doll.” The mother scolded him, yanking him back into the crowd as he kept eye contact with Persilia.

Personally, she never enjoyed children, nor did she want any of her own. They were just too fucking stupid. Of course, everyone starts out as one, so how could she blame them. Persilia could hardly fend for herself. Well, hardly Is an exaggeration, but still. Having another mouth to feed, especially a whiny one was just too much mentally sapping work. Plus, Persilia only ever knew how to travel. She’s never owned a house or cottage to reside in, nor a family to call her own. She didn’t know why, but she got antsy staying in one place. With a monotone glance toward the child, she waited until his gaze diverted and he was swallowed back into the crowd.

Many people walked past Persilia as she struggled to think of a tune. She fidgeted with the pegs before being satisfied with the density of the strings. One thing that separated her from every other musician, was not only her of course, ‘being the daughter of Ydur’ whole ordeal, but it was the fact that she took advantage of the outside noises. She regained sight of her track, listening to the heavy steps of the crowd as they banged against the cobble. The mix of bards singing in their husky voices, acting as though they have something to compare to. Other musicians played, causing a disrupt, odd tone in the festival. Notes were everywhere, clogging any and all musical action to be heard. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in some of these situations before, though.

Persilia perked her head up at a seemingly perfect voice. It had caught her attention through the hoarse mumbling of people. ‘Iliane!’ The voice called, drawing closer to Persilia. Once she had seen her, Persilia was in awe. She was absolutely beautiful. Not beautiful like the nobles, all done up in their wealth. This one was born with that face, that curve. She seemed to be passing by, looking for someone. But, Persilia had other intentions. “Ma’am, may I ask, who is the lucky person whose name is being so unappreciatively beckoned?” Yes, she couldn’t help but let her nosiness shine through in that sentence. A little too much. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, after all, who could forget a lady like you?” Persilia tilted her head, her voice immediately switching from charming to flirtatious in a heartbeat.

“I mean, truth be told, you’re making the other women here look like burn victims,” Persilia’s darker humor shown through, and her expressions were obviously ridden with emotion. Perhaps she wasn’t as attracted to other women as Persilia was, but, there was no harm in trying. After all, Persi could go for either. She had kept eye contact with the woman, Persilia’s own blue eyes showing nothing but affection toward the lady. She had slightly lowered her dark lashes, as to give off the appeal of feminism, yet the same charm as a man.

Persilia hoped she hadn’t scared her off with it. After all, she almost looked displeased when she had glanced at her. Although the fact she had readjusted her appearance could only give Persilia false hope there was something to pry at. “I think it’d be a life goal of mine to learn your name, but nothing worth having is given that easily, of course. I’m here to play if you want to stick around later. But, don’t keep your friend waiting, I bet they’re eager to get back to you. After all, who wouldn’t be.”

“Ah, I’m just rambling now, I won’t keep you waiting.” Persilia gave a respectful nod, knowing she obviously had somewhere to go. But, she couldn’t help but memorize the woman’s appearance in the smallest glance up and down. She hid this disrespect by the shadow of her lashes, taking in all the notable features without letting the lady realize it. She had dark brown hair pulled back into an elegant bun that seemed to reach for the stars. Her skin was soft looking, on the lighter end of most of the people attending the festival. She had the prettiest-looking blue eyes Persilia ever had her own set on. They had been framed by long dark lashes, only adding to her beauty. She seemed to check out every mark in Persilia’s “hit-on” list. Although she could definitely be taller, she was tall enough. Begrudgingly, she tore her eyes away from her. She didn’t doubt for a second they’d cross paths again later. After all, nothing that precious slipped by Persi undetected.

Persilia felt off about something. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Perhaps It was a noise in the crowd. She distractedly glanced as far as her little self could look, but nothing caught her eyes. Why can’t my ears focus the only time it's needed? She huffed, somewhat frustrated at herself for not catching onto the gut feeling that twisted in her. What was it? That’s when the sound came again. Now that her focus was strained on finding out what it was, she managed to catch it. She clenching leathery noises of a saddle, and the huff of a horse. Persilia definitely wasn’t an animal person, but why had she focused on such a random beast? That’s when she heard it. A voice that had popped the memory right into Persilia’s head.

She came. Of course, she came, she’s a traveler after all. Debating on whether to poke at the woman or avoid her at all costs drowned out most of her thoughts. Get yourself together Persi, today’s meal isn’t just going to show up in your hands. The only thing that managed to allow herself to gather back up once more was the thought of food.

That’s when, yet another pretty face caught Persilia’s seemingly child-like mind. She made eye contact with one of the nobles adorned in fine jewels. She, herself, was a prize to behold. Nothing compared to the curvy woman, but a prize nonetheless. A petite face with sharp, protruding cheekbones and elegant green eyes. Adorned with short, wavy locks of blond hair and covered in so many jewels the woman seemed to sparkle. Although, the man who lingered just behind her wasn’t as pretty. He was a lot gruffer and definitely older.

It was no wonder he stuck so closely to her. Persilia saw their bondage on their fingers, the woman bearing a jewel on top of hers, while the man had a simple silver band. Perhaps, on closer investigation, had intricate details, but the man wasn’t the one who had caught her eyes. Even though the hunger gurgled in her stomach from the fresh smells of pheasants being cooked, Persilia lowered the top of her eyelids just slightly, allowing her dark, long lashes to effortlessly, and slightly bat as she kept a side-eye view of the woman. Keeping her contact with her, a flirtatious smile crossed Persilia’s face. It was slight, but she could tell that the lady saw it. Simply by her pale features darkening with a pink blemish. Even through all that makeup, the human emotions managed to stand out.

It was hard to find a truly attractive being, but the woman was definitely on the prettier side of most of the people here. It was likely that she had used makeup to cover imperfections, but nonetheless, the was a nice sight to set eyes upon. The woman swiveled away, being the shadow to her husband as she was too unconfrontational to stare Persilia down anymore. What a shame. Although, the husband was definitely far more generous when it came to coins, as he reached into a pouch fastened to his waist, hidden under the potbelly he bore. Another sign of wealth. He tossed a couple, and once more, the tinkling noises were drowned under the generous bellow of another crowd who was listening to a bard.

“Will you be staying to hear me play?” Persilia asked, just before the man could walk away. She had snagged this opportunity as quickly as she could.

He didn’t say anything, merely looking toward his wife who still refused to look at Persilia. “Alright then, show us what you’ve got young’n,” His voice was husky and deep, yet had a charmed tone to it.

She began now, letting her fingers pluck each string. The tune started out small and almost ethereal, but as she continued, she grasped the hang of it. Her left hand slid up and down the dark brown neck of the lute, as her right hand carefully, yet professionally plucked each string accordingly, providing combos to spice the tune up. As she began to get that tugging sensation, like the urge to keep going, she managed to get louder. One by one, eyes were drawn toward her. It first pulled the ears of people, then the sight of Persilia moved their feet. The natural clank of leather shoes supported the beat that she needed, and the light harmony turned into a faster, more vibrant tune. Usually, the instrument was used for more eloquent purposes, but, by banging her open wrist against the fashioned model, she managed to give it a vibrant, party-like beat that only a band could suffice.

Even then, her tunes were like one was being blessed with the want to move. Her songs made you feel alive, and although this one was being made from the top of her head, it had the same pull. Unlike others, her music didn’t blend into the sound around her. It was unique, loud, and attractive. Before she knew it, a crowd had gathered, bobbing along to her music. One by one, each finger seemed to speed up, yet not messily so. She looked up from her strings to see the many, multiplying eyes that bore down on her, some were intrigued by her fairness, others were simply enjoying the melodic vibrance that radiated from her instrument. She simply was born with the talent of making people want to dance to her tunes, so the sway of the crowd that had been attracted to her was bound to break and at least give her some coin, yes? After all, she needed something to put in her stomach.

More commoners than nobles joined in on the hovering of Persilia, but that usually was a good sign. It meant that they were more likely to begin dancing, as they didn’t have a social hierarchy of always wanting to look refined. Before she knew it, the tapping of feet surrounded her, people bobbed along, shuffled, then started to get the hang of Persilia’s music. Even some of the eldest had started to move, like awestricken toddlers.

“Don’t just stand there,” Persilia’s airy, feminine, yet assertive voice arose, a playful grin coming over her as she stood back up from the pillar. “Move those feet!” Persilia, now practically prancing with the lute weighing her down, had struck the crowd into dance around her. They locked arms and skipped like youths, even the most wrinkled of the bunch joined in on either clapping to the beat, or joining in on the circular dancing. It was lively, to say the least, and only kept drawing more attention. Persilia, now surrounded by the laughter of others enjoying her music, could only hold a truthful smile. She loved this. Even if she couldn’t get meals to fatten her up, she simply enjoyed being the life of the party. It was worth not being able to afford lemon cakes or seasoned turkey all the time.

Now, Persilia managed to catch glimpses of purples, reds, and blues. Signs of those with enough coin to spare. Perfect timing. Rising the tension that has been built up, Persilia plucked multiple strings at a time, causing a dramatic climax before its intense drop. Through her own melodies, she heard the couple clinks of coins wrestling each other in her hat. She didn’t bother to look in, though, as she had to keep up the vibrance of her crowd. Now in a ring of people whose arms locked together, which only grew bigger when more joined, Persilia surely felt like the spotlight was on her. Where she belonged, of course. Her raven hair was wildly flying on either side of her face, as the wind pushed through, allowing a few wavy strands to curl under her cupid lips.

Her music was unlike any other the festival had seen, and she managed to steal the audience of other bards and musicians, who, in fact, couldn’t deny the pull. She could see some hovering behind the on-beat clapping of the audience with their own specialized instrument. Some clapped along too, others tried to join in on her music, which only allowed her tunes to drift down the alley. Oh, how coming to the festival was a good idea. She’d definitely have enough to spoil herself for the evening. Lemon cakes, ale, a roof over her head, and definitely some nightly action to end the party off. After all, it's Persilia we’re talking about.

The handy scarf she stole from the bottom of the pillar had been yanked off of her refined neck by the wind, and lifted above the crowd, being stolen by the air drifts as her music continued on, only seemingly getting more attractive as it continued. Persilia had been caught up in the crowd, too. She didn’t realize how incredibly bouncy and all over the place she was, even though her hands professionally danced. When she concentrated, Persilia was an effortless dancer, but when she got distracted, she couldn’t help but copy the crowd’s vibrance. Now, all she could hear, and all she could see, was the laughter and enjoyment that came from her music. Times like these always made her feel so warm and fuzzy.