"How do you mean? I am part of other worlds, but they are through my own. Fae, magic. The only other wizard I know is Merlion." Her eyes widen slightly.
He grins. "Yeah. We have these cards, kids collect them, they show famous wizards and witches. From all over the world and all through history. You're on one of them. That's how I recognised you."
*The music is warm and soothing, the melody filtering through the chatter of the bar like sunlight streaming down through the verdant green leaves of summer. Calm, content, almost healing in the peace conveyed by the simple melody.*
*Blood and death and pain are far from this Music. This music is purely warmth and the cool breezes of dawn as a new day begins, clear. The sweet sound of the violin promises the day will be bright.*
Eyes still closed, she slips down to the floor. The young witch stands stock-still for a moment and then, slowly, she begins to dance to the music, matching it as before.
But instead of the steady, sensual bet of life and joy, this dance is slower, more graceful. A dance of new dawns and days and spring sun.
*The violin swings across the strings, singing of bright mornings growing into clear days as Yrael's fingers dance above, moving deftly upon the strings. The bright sunlight, in streams of notes and melody, washes over (and through) the listener, warming her with quiet gladness. The music sings of promise and hope, looking to the bright rising sun with calm and quiet contentment.*
*He plays as long as she wishes to dance, bowing slightly when he catches her smile. He enjoys seeing people smile, and giving them reason to do so. His gentle return smile says quietly, My pleasure.*
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"Hi there."
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Except her eyes, grey and dreamy and seeing things that no one else can.
"Good morning."
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Barty frowns. "I'm sure I know you from somewhere. Are you from the wizarding world?"
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"How do you mean? I am part of other worlds, but they are through my own. Fae, magic. The only other wizard I know is Merlion." Her eyes widen slightly.
"You...you taste different. Different magic."
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"No way. No way. You're Morgana." He looks like a child who's just met his favourite Quidditch player.
"I'm Barty. Bartemius Crouch."
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"I...haven't used that name." But, it's pretty. More adult then 'Morgan', less insipid then 'Morgne'.
"It's nice to meet you, though," she says, offering him her hand. To be kissed, but no one has introduced her to the idea of shaking hands yet.
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"You're still famous in my time. 1982. One of the greatest of all witches."
"Lovely to meet you too. An honour." He smiles. "What would you like me to call you?"
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"And...I am? Truly?"
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He grins. "Yeah. We have these cards, kids collect them, they show famous wizards and witches. From all over the world and all through history. You're on one of them. That's how I recognised you."
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"You... you could tell I'm a wizard, then?"
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"Yes. With a wand and a hat and spells that you learn from a book."
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But instead of the steady, sensual bet of life and joy, this dance is slower, more graceful. A dance of new dawns and days and spring sun.
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Thank you, Yrael...
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You cheered me up
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*He bows to her, smiling.* Good evening, Lady.
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"And good morning, to you."
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