The Song of Sheathed Swords and Scarred Souls » Places

         Well, mostly I'm going to keep my ear to the ground and hopefully find work at the fair. I tried that last year, too, though, and it didn't do me much good. As for faeries, the way I see it is if they really did exist in Iria like Gran believed, we'd have seen them when we were fighting there all those years. Wouldn't they have tried to screw us all over or something? I mean, worse than we were already screwing ourselves and each other? I wouldn't go there, if I were you. It's a death trap. Maybe even as much as when we were fighting there, but for different reasons. And there's nobody out there anymore to hear you scream if something goes wrong.

         (The sounds of those old tunes touched his ears, and his head tilted. The sounds, but not the words, though the tempo… what was that song. And which version? He'd heard so many tunes in his day, it seemed like every batch of new recruits had their own way of singing this song or that song, and the lyrics he once knew were a stranger to them all. He sighed softly, leaning against the wall of the inn, waiting for the crowd to part and give him a fair shot at a good seat near the fire. He was feeling old today. The rain always made his joints ache, and the journey here hadn't given him any help in that department. He was still bruised from where he had been jostled by the crowds just getting in the door.)

-Oh Kalsim, admit it to yourself. You're twice the age of anyone here, and yet you're still trying to run the young man's pace. Just like in the Pikers… but that’s the past. And the future to live is now, so cheer up you sandsod. Maybe a song...-

(With a push off the wall, and using his pike for a little extra stability, he moves towards the stage at a steady pace, still able to maneuver around the chaos of humanity swirling to and fro in the inn. The young lady vacates her seat for a moment, and he moves forward to catch it before…)

Ylona: Nu'uh, this'un's mine. Find yer own spot or stand.
Kalsim (A pause, and then with solid voice, raised high enough to be heard, but not enough to antagonize): My apologies madam. I will stand then and claim my spot. The wind will bring me a chair soon enough should I need it.

(with a turn, he moves to ensure he does not block the path, and fishes into his belt pouch. A coin slips out, and is dropped into the hat, letting it clink against its brother) Good singer, perhaps you know "Home Before the Harvest"? It's an older song, and thus I understand if you've not heard of it before. If not that one, then perhaps "The Yellow Lady"? It should be about the same tune for both.