Better Living Through Music [Attn: Jenny]

[Percy]

ASAN

In the small moments between studies, chores, and reparations for his transgressions, Asan carved out an hour a day dedicated to music. Playing and singing mostly, Asan sung to his family, to his past, and to his hopes for a future. It kept the monster of homesickness at bay. It also let him travel far away from his duties, from the tower, from his own fears. It was just the therapy the man needed.

As evening settled upon the Tower, Asan strung his harp and idly plucked a few strings. Dressed in the black afforded the Soldiers, the tanned-skinned Tuatha'an looked rather ravishing in such a relaxed state. The sound he produced was soothing, but largely unfamiliar. In his youth he'd never owned such an involved instrument- his father had mastered the lute, and his mother preferred winded instruments of her own design. Danai was truly the singer of the family- her voice was in a word: heavenly. What an ironic turn of phrase, considering she'd returned to the creator to sing rays of light upon the Earth. Asan often thought of her during this time.

He sat outside as the sun began to descend, taking in the clean air in measured breaths. Serenity descended as second-low sounded and faded. It was a near perfect evening. Asan strummed a few notes on the harp and once he was comfortable in a melody, his voice rang out- the baritone of it resonating through empty spaces in the Tower.

She sung a song to me in Spring time,
A melody of flowers and Life
She sung to me in Summer
Of warm, cozy Nights
She sung to me in Autumn,
Sung while the leaves fell,
But in the Cold of Winter the world fell silent
Just like that- i was under her spell.

And the Years... Flew... By...
I wondered just made me stay
And the Years... Flew... By...
She sung to me, each and every day.

She sung to me of promises
She sung to me of lies
She sung of wishes unfulfilled,
But I fell into her eyes.

I loved her voice, her lips, her smile
Everything about her filled my head.
It wasn't until after she left
I realized what she'd said.

And the Years... Flew... By...
I know now.. just what made me stay..
And the Years.. Flew.. By....
I'll never recover what I threw away."

The song was a sad one, but it wasn't his sadness. Asan just enjoyed the melody and timber of the music- and it went with the harp beautifully. Once the song concluded he mused about his performance- about the relaxation he felt when he was singing. It truly was a different world when he was performing, Asan wished he could diver deeper into that confidence. While he was singing, he could do anything. Couldn't he lever that somehow? He settled into that thought as he plucked his strings.

[Jenny]

Kaira Darrow

Kaira startled awake. Quick hands darted out to grip the rough bark of the tree. Light, had she fallen asleep sitting up in her favorite tree again? Her drawing notebook lay splayed open on her lap, the image half-completed. She closed it and stuffed it into the bookbag that she pulled from behind her back, where it had lain propped up against the tree trunk. Oh, she hoped that her father wasn't looking for her! Had she missed dinner?

The nine-year-old girl threw the strap of her bookbag across her shoulders. Then, she clambered down from branch to branch. Her limbs were too gangly to be graceful, yet her movement were confident as she found familiar foot-and-hand holds. She dropped to the ground and took off running. Her messy braid of brown hair bounced behind her.

A bell tolled. Kaira slowed to a walk and counted as she listened. It was two hours after Low. She sighed and shrugged. Well, she had missed dinner, but surely she could ask Weland, one of the servants, to sneak her a plate from the kitchens.

Abruptly, a beautiful deep male voice and the strumming of strings caught her attention. She froze and twisted her head in every direction, thoughts of a warm dinner forgotten. Where was it coming from?

She headed south, searching through the gardens. Moments later, she found herself approaching the courtyard of the Novice and Soldier Quarters. She wasn't really suppose to be here - her father and aunt Elia frowned upon it - but it wasn't forbidden! And so she went on ahead, curiosity squashing any trepidation.

When she found the man with a harp, Kaira stood quietly. Silence was rather unusual for the energetic girl, but she was absolutely captivated by the music. She felt the sorrow carried in the raw expression of his voice. The music took her to shores beyond anything she had ever experienced, and her young heart was filled with a sad longing that she had never felt before.

When it ended, she almost didn't want to speak. The silence seemed somehow heavier after it had been filled with the haunting melody as if it shouldn't be disturbed. Even the beautiful song, however, couldn't keep her quiet for long.

She shuffled her feet, making noise to alert the man to her presence. Then she smiled brightly. Kaira was far from shy.

"That's a beautiful song," she said. "Were you thinking of someone when you sang it? Oh, forgive me, I didn't introduce myself! My name is Kaira Darrow. Light shine on you, soldier."

She bobbed a quick curtsy, just as she had been taught.

[Percy]

Shuffling feet interrupted Asan's musings, and as he turned to see a child-

-a child?!

Yes, a child. He was visibly shaken: the Tower symbolized a fight that he'd never really set right in his mind. The idea of people wielding violence to their own end, hoping that their choices bode well for mankind was a consistent struggle with the way of the Leaf, that stated mankind's wellness depended upon non-violence. Asan's worldview hinged on the fact that the Tower was a weapon, that he would be a weapon, and in order to be a sharp effective weapon he'd have to distance himself from humanity. He'd have to steel his soul with gray to fight the darkness.

Yet the presence of this girl contested that.

The Tuatha'an squared his shoulders, stopped strumming on the harp and spoke formally. Even his serious sentences had a musical quality. "You are too young to be a Novice," he said, his voice rich with warmth and joy, "yet you are too old for the cradle, Kaira Darrow." He bit his full bottom lip in thought and then relented. "I apologize. I have judged you before I gave you my name. I am Asan Grey. The songs I sing are often to people I love. This is no different, and may the Light ever shine on you." He gave a flourish that was not entirely unlike the gleeman showing Seth would use from time to time. He respected her manners, and for that, he allowed a soft smile. "Would you like to hear another song?"

[Jenny]

"Asan Grey of the Grey Tower." Kaira sounded out the name, pronouncing each syllable with slow deliberation. The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement and she laughed. "Ha, if only you joined the Grey Ajah as well and wore grey clothes! That would make for an amusing song."

She edged closer to the man. Her eyes honed in on his harp. She yearned to touch it, but was afraid to reach out her hand unless given explicit permission.

"I am nine years old. I left the cradle a long time ago," she told him. "And I still have a few years to go before Aunt Elia says she will be able to tell if I can channel or not. Hm, are you new? Where are you from? And how did you learn to play and sing like that?"

She tilted her head curiously and bounced on the balls of her feet in eager excitement.

"I would love to hear another song, but only if you have one ready. I have not yet eaten dinner and my father will be expecting me to be home soon."

[Percy]

"Forgive me. You've got me at a disadvantage. Nine is a fine age." Asan's face softened a bit as he thought about Danai, his sister. She wasn't too much older when Trollocs took her beyond this world. He suppressed a frown and spoke: "I used to be one of the Traveling People until it was discovered I could channel. Now I am of the Grey Tower. Asan Grey," he motioned around him as if this motion explained everything, "I guess this is also how I learned to play and sing. My parents taught me everything my curiosity didn't teach me." He shrugged a little and passed the harp to her. "Be careful- you may fall in love. It is a delicate instrument that produces a powerful sound. It is close to human. It can sound joyous, injured.. excited.. subdued... just like we do. Handle it with care." Confident that she would do just that Asan let Kaira examine the instrument with her hands. He appeared fairly relaxed allowing her to do just that.

While she handled it he sung a few soft notes.

Music touches places in our hearts,
Tells us to stay alive, to keep living
Sing praises of love when it starts
Let our lives be pure- our minds forgiving.

Music helps to open the closed eyes
Helps us see the beauty all around
Sing of the birds, free in the skies,
Sing of the Leaf, as it drifts toward the ground.

Music eases the pains of life
Lifts the weight of Darkness, of shame
Sing of triumph over strife
Sing to the Creator- in Light praise His name.

As he finished he nodded to himself- proud he remembered the song in it's totality. "This was the first song I learned when I was young. This was what made me fall in love with singing. I felt so free when I sung it as a boy. It is a gift to you. Take it in your heart for when you don't think you have something to sing about." Watching her quietly with the harp, he let his smile linger. "You should not be late to eat. your Father will not be happy if he knows you tarry. Off with you, Seek more songs- search always for the Song." Asan wanted to shake his head, but it was done. He would always be a Tuatha'an, no matter what he became or what the caravans thought of him. He gave her a short bow and awaited for her to finish examining the instrument.

[Jenny]

"Be careful. You may fall in love."

Kaira snorted. "I'm not afraid of love," she declared.

She lifted her eyes as if she expected him challenge her assertion. Then her mouth dropping open with astonishment as Asan passed his instrument into her hands. She stroked the burnished wood with reverence. A tentative finger plucked at the strings. Twang! She winced at the discordant sound.

Once again, the man began to sing. Kaira stared at him, spellbound. What a lovely melody! This song was softer than the last, and not as sad. When he finished, the girl gave herself a little shake. Then she grinned as an idea came to mind.

"You are right," she said. "But before I go, can we meet again? I know that you soldiers are busy with classes and chores and whatnot. However, if it is alright with you, then perhaps I could come sit with you and watch you sometimes. You look so content when you sing, did you know that? And I like to draw people. I would love to draw you while you sing."

[Percy]

"Fear of love does not make you a coward, my father would say. Just a fool." He delighted in talking to the child- even in her curiosity around the harp. He held his hand out for her to return the instrument when she was done, but spoke casually as he did so. "If drawing is your music, I would love to be with you when you play." He nodded. He was eager to be an inspiration to any greatness, on any level. It was an honor to be in such a position.

Asan nodded to himself, and squared his shoulders, offering the child his best and most honorific bow. "Kaira- I will see you again soon. Remain safe in the Light until then." It was not a dismissal, but a reminder that she had other places to be. Once he received the harp (if she gave it to him, he pulled out a small case and, after wiping it down and preparing it for storage, put it away in the box, headed to his own room for private study.

[Jenny]

Kaira returned the harp and nodded solemnly. "May the Creator watch over you," she said. Then she turned and left. Her bookbag bounced against her side as she ran home.
----- A few days later, the two met again in the Tower gardens. The little girl sat under the shade of a tree. Her notebook lay open in her lap. She watched the former Tinker as he strummed on his harp.

"I thought about what you said, and I think that drawing is not my music," she said. "I haven't heard you sing the same song twice. Are you making them up? Well, that's not what I do when I draw. I'm not making anything new. I'm just trying to capture what already exists. Oh, if only we could also capture sound or smells! I wish that I could show Daddy your songs."

It really was a pity that Asan's music couldn't be somehow preserved. Kaira's face twisted in a look of supreme concentration. Her pencil moved smoothly over the page and left behind feathered strokes of charcoal.

[Percy]

Asan watched her in silence, contemplating how he would respond to her statement. It never occurred to him that he had a tendency not to repeat the same music, but as she said it he cast his mind back- memories always had new songs in them. Emotions were a unique tapestry, some inspiring new songs, others stirring songs learned in a life that no longer existed. It was interesting to say the least.
"I never thought of it that way," he began, "some songs are from memory.. others are ..." Asan paused, struck with a moment of uncertainty, "others are part of the pattern of the moment. Just like when you draw- you try to capture what is, but your movements, you're contribution to that page is unique. Even if you perfectly capture something- it is your perspective that is unique. Just as my voice gives words a life that is new each time I sing." Asan nodded to himself- it was an adequate explanation- perhaps something that would help him come to grips with his new perspective. If he turned this philosophy inward, it was a wonderful revelation: his perspective was unique and in this uniqueness, he could take pieces of the Tower, and of the Way, and of the world he saw through song, and string it together in a weave of his making. He could never recreate what his parents were, or what his sister brought back to the Creator that night. He could only... create the weave that was his own.

[Jenny]

Kaira was too young to understand philosophy and too flighty to keep track of Asan's chain of thought. She nodded absently as he spoke and kept her puzzlement to herself. Instead, she focused on her drawing. The lines of charcoal were coming together from a bizarre, seemingly random arrangement of strokes to something that clearly resembled a man's face.

Asan was a serious man, but he smiled often while singing so she drew him with a slight, smirking smile. His eyes were friendly and deep. She frowned and tilted her head at the paper. There was something missing... Aha! A background! There was more to a man than his face. Her pencil tapped impatiently against the dirt.

"Tell me more about you," she said. "What do you like to do besides music? And how did you come here?"

She began to draw the curve of his harp.