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Jun. 15th, 2018 03:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It is nighttime. Emcee knows not the hour, only that it will not let him sleep.
He wanders outside onto the porch and perches on the railing, his bare feet up and his back against a pillar. There are earbuds in his ears, plugged into the smartphone in his hand.
The moon and stars glitter on the surface of the lake. He watches with a far-off longing, lulled by the folk songs that he has been listening to all evening.
Eventually, into the still, night air, he sings along to one of the songs, his voice clear and rich but quiet, not any louder than his normal speaking tone. The melody rocks and sways like the dappled waves on the water, carrying him away over an ocean that he has yet to cross.
"Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye... "
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He wanders outside onto the porch and perches on the railing, his bare feet up and his back against a pillar. There are earbuds in his ears, plugged into the smartphone in his hand.
The moon and stars glitter on the surface of the lake. He watches with a far-off longing, lulled by the folk songs that he has been listening to all evening.
Eventually, into the still, night air, he sings along to one of the songs, his voice clear and rich but quiet, not any louder than his normal speaking tone. The melody rocks and sways like the dappled waves on the water, carrying him away over an ocean that he has yet to cross.
"Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye... "