milliways_bar | (no subject)

Asmodean probably was not what Hermione had in mind when she wanted to meet someone interesting. He walked slowly towards her with his harp in hand. He tilted his head to the side and studied her briefly before speaking in his cool, dry voice.

"Good evening my lady. Would you care for some music with your dinner?"

He is a handsome man of an indeterminate age, but vaguely late twenties with long dark hair, and dark eyes. He has an air of sadness about him.

"Music would be lovely," Hermione says, smiling.

Asmodean gave a smile that touched on a smirk.

"Very well then."

He pulled his harp to the front of his body. With a small flourish, he began a grim and haunting march. Not a funeral march but rather an anti-wedding march. Everything that a wedding march stand for committment, love, happiness, this piece, The March of Death, was the opposite. Betrayal, loss, and hopelessness flowed from the harp. Asmodean poured himself into the music, and his soul flowed from it. His face contorted as he played. The piece was obviously meant for a larger group of musicians, but still retained some of its power in this simple version. Asmodean opened a vein with his music, and tore at the emotions and memories of the listener. Heart-rending but truly sublime.

Asmodean finished with a flourish and a bow.

As Hermione listens, tears form in her eyes, and her chicken salad sits forgotten on the table.

"I can't decide whether it would be more obvious of me to say that was beautiful or sad," she says, when Asmodean finishes.

Asmodean gives a sad smile.

"A melody simply is. Nothing more. Though I do hope you enjoyed it. That piece is perhaps my favorite of the melodies that I have written."

"Oh, you're a songwriter? That's wonderful. I do admire musicians. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. What's your name?"

Asmodean gave a rather charming grin.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Hermione."

He paused.

"Please, address me as Jasin Natael."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Natael. What world do you come from?"

Asmodean gave a smirk.

"Please call me Jasin. It seems to be the habit here, even though I am many years your senior."

He pursed his lips slightly.

"I am from the World of the Wheel, the same one that Moiraine Sedai is from."

"I haven't met Moiraine yet. I'm from an Earth. There seem to be a lot of them."

Asmodean nodded.

"I have noticed that."

His eyes flashed dark fire, and a chair found its way under him as he sat down.

"Now, would you like another song, Lady Hermione?"

"Why, I would love one," Hermione says.

Nothing the dark fire, and perhaps wanting to show off herself a bit, she pulls out her wand and flicks it at the chicken salad, which slides down the bar and into her hands.

She eats a spinach leaf. Yum.

Asmodean does not give any response to the wand.

He pulled his harp to the front of his body.

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ah,
Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah

I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone

Read between the lines
What's messed up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone

Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ah
Ah-ah, Ah-ah

I walk alone
I walk a...

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...

His voice was a pleasant baritone. The version of the song he played was slower and sung with a good deal more tragedy in the voice.

"Now that sounds familiar," says Hermione.

Asmodean nodded.

"I have been told that it is from your world. A musician here at the bar taught it to me."

"It's usually sung quite differently," Hermione comments. "I wish I could give you something in return, but I'm not very talented in the way of music, and I haven't got anything in the way of money at the moment." She smiles apologetically. "I've been stuck here for a few months now."

Asmodean shook his head.

"It is no matter. I do not charge for performances. Music is a way for me to express my emotions and to touch the lives of others."

"Are all of them sad?"

Asmodean paused.

"Music must come from within. I play what I feel."

"What happened to make you so sad?"

Asmodean gave a long sigh.

"Do you actually want to know? I can assure you that you will be happier in your ignorance."

"If you'd rather not tell me, you don't have to. But if you would, I'll listen."

Asmodean shrugged.

"It is perhaps best that you hear it from me, than from someone else. Since I am over three hundred and fifty years old, I will give you a taste of some of the tragedy that happened to me. The full story would take far too long."

He gave a long sigh.

"When I was very young, my fiance, the only person who ever loved me, died in a tragic accident in an age where death from anything aside from old age was almost unheard of. She died in my arms, despite all my powers, I could not do anything."

"That's horrible," Hermione says sympathetically. "I'm sorry. You must have loved her very much."

Asmodean gave a long sigh.

"You listened to the piece I wrote about her death. You tell me."

"Would you like to tell me about her?"

Asmodean paused and thought.

"You know, it has been over three hundred years since she died... Mother hated her, and the way mother treated her was one of the reasons I ended up killing mother, but... It has been a very long time since I said much about her."

He paused. His voice was quite casual despite the dreary and chilling subject matter.

Hermione makes a mental note to read Jasin's canon as soon as possible.

"They say remembering sometimes helps."

He let out a long sigh. Hermione would not find it in his canon because he is a very minor character and most of his demented backstory is his mun's creation. Except for the murdering his mother business.

"It has been so long... Well, she was fairly short, quite ordinary, with red hair and freckles. She had absolutely no ear for music. That was probably why I liked her. I was a child prodigy, and she could not tell nor did she care. We grew up together, fell in love, and then she died."

"I'm very sorry," Hermione says sympathetically. "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm rather stuck here."

She pushes her empty chicken salad bowl away. "I think I should go find my friend Ron and see if he's gotten into trouble yet. He usually has. It was nice to meet you, Jasin."

Asmodean has met Ron with less than desirable results.

"He has the tendency to do that."

He paused.

"It was good to meet you, Lady Hermione."