milliways_bar | (no subject)

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*Yrael wanders into the bar from the back corridor, dressed all in white. He carries with him his violin, and on a whim brought his recorder with him, as well. He makes his way to the comfortable chair on the left side of the fire and sits down, setting his recorder down on the table beside the chair. Placing the violin to his shoulder, he pauses a moment to decide what to play. He begins playing a light, lilting dance, the melody all glinting sunlight and new leaves, turning in a warm spring breeze.*

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Ace would help. And try to convert Yrael to the ways of pyro-ism.

Wait. That's been covered, hasn't it.

*You decide; is he covered on the pyro front? Logic would suggest he's been covered on his knowledge of pyroism for a loooong looong time.*

If Ace would just think about it, she'd realize that he is a pyro master, and she should sit and learn at his feet like a good little student.

*Yrael wouldn't really make a good teacher, though. He hasn't the patience for it. He might set something on fire in boredom.*

*Oh wait. That's the point. Right.*

According to Ace? That's the whole point and then some. As it is, she's nearly falling asleep by the fire listening to the music.

*Yrael would admit, the music is quite peaceful. Like the steady flicker of flames in a fireplace, the notes change steadily, quickly in their flowing melody.*

Peaceful is not a word Ace would use to describe either her history or her mood of the past 48 or so hours. She could probably use a decent-sized dose.

*If she continues to listen, she'll get one.*

She does. The not'cat may notice the resident time-traveller and pyro is looking a bit boneless.

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