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The air was still with the last of the night creatures finding their beds, the world not yet awakening to the new day that was but a short few hours away. A soft, cool breeze blows through the leaves on nearby trees; waking the morning birds from their slumber to start their morning songs as the sky started to lighten from above. Blacks lightened to greys, greys shifted to blues, everything seeming to start to wake up as the dawn crept over the horizon. There was one hooded soul that could be found, making her daily trip to the temple to greet the god Apollo as he brought the light for the new day. The air was chilled as the sent of damp soil from the dew filled the air as Kalliope made her way up the well trodden hill, having travelled it every day since she and her father came to Taengea. It was no problem for her to travel to the temple alone any longer, blind as she was, it was like her heart just knew the way. Listening to the birds sing their greetings to the sun, Kalli wished that she could see the colors the sky shifted and became painted with, like she had so many times before. The smell of growing things and the dew filled her senses even as the chill started to melt away as the sun climbed higher. Though she couldn't see it, she could still feel its warmth cover her like blanket. A small basket rested in the crook of her arm, holding her little harp and some of the offerings that she brought. In the basket, the offerings that it contained were some pastries and a wreath made of laurel that she liked to place around the pastries on her offering plate. The pastries were still warm, the heat seeping through the cloth wrap that she used to cover them and warming her arm just above. Kalliope made her trip and offerings to Apollo every day, not always because she had something to request but because she just wanted to. She never knew if he could see, if it might be something that could make him smile possibly or even if he was having a bad day it would make it even a small bit better. Not that she would ever think of herself important in the eyes of a god no matter what she did, but if anything else, it made her feel good. Hearing the sounds of the ground under her steps shift and change, signalling that she was right in front of temple, and with cautious steps she made her way slowly and carefully up each step. The moment she reached the door however, Kalliope lowered her hood as she turned her face towards the sun. Golden hair flowed down her back as she let the light warm her skin as she wished for a moment that she could see the colors that the dawn painted the sky with, itching to paint once more. It was an old wish that Kalliope eased with memories, taking comfort that she could still play her harp and sing her songs.
Turning back, she entered the temple and made her way to the alter to place her offerings. Inside, the warmth of the sun had not yet chased the chill of the night away, making goosebumps form across her skin that was not warmed by the baked goods in her basket. Arriving at the alter, she placed her items in their place with a prayer for continued good health for her family before finding her place on the floor nearby. With her legs curled under her, Kalliope started to play a soft tune on her little golden harp and getting lost in the music.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The air was still with the last of the night creatures finding their beds, the world not yet awakening to the new day that was but a short few hours away. A soft, cool breeze blows through the leaves on nearby trees; waking the morning birds from their slumber to start their morning songs as the sky started to lighten from above. Blacks lightened to greys, greys shifted to blues, everything seeming to start to wake up as the dawn crept over the horizon. There was one hooded soul that could be found, making her daily trip to the temple to greet the god Apollo as he brought the light for the new day. The air was chilled as the sent of damp soil from the dew filled the air as Kalliope made her way up the well trodden hill, having travelled it every day since she and her father came to Taengea. It was no problem for her to travel to the temple alone any longer, blind as she was, it was like her heart just knew the way. Listening to the birds sing their greetings to the sun, Kalli wished that she could see the colors the sky shifted and became painted with, like she had so many times before. The smell of growing things and the dew filled her senses even as the chill started to melt away as the sun climbed higher. Though she couldn't see it, she could still feel its warmth cover her like blanket. A small basket rested in the crook of her arm, holding her little harp and some of the offerings that she brought. In the basket, the offerings that it contained were some pastries and a wreath made of laurel that she liked to place around the pastries on her offering plate. The pastries were still warm, the heat seeping through the cloth wrap that she used to cover them and warming her arm just above. Kalliope made her trip and offerings to Apollo every day, not always because she had something to request but because she just wanted to. She never knew if he could see, if it might be something that could make him smile possibly or even if he was having a bad day it would make it even a small bit better. Not that she would ever think of herself important in the eyes of a god no matter what she did, but if anything else, it made her feel good. Hearing the sounds of the ground under her steps shift and change, signalling that she was right in front of temple, and with cautious steps she made her way slowly and carefully up each step. The moment she reached the door however, Kalliope lowered her hood as she turned her face towards the sun. Golden hair flowed down her back as she let the light warm her skin as she wished for a moment that she could see the colors that the dawn painted the sky with, itching to paint once more. It was an old wish that Kalliope eased with memories, taking comfort that she could still play her harp and sing her songs.
Turning back, she entered the temple and made her way to the alter to place her offerings. Inside, the warmth of the sun had not yet chased the chill of the night away, making goosebumps form across her skin that was not warmed by the baked goods in her basket. Arriving at the alter, she placed her items in their place with a prayer for continued good health for her family before finding her place on the floor nearby. With her legs curled under her, Kalliope started to play a soft tune on her little golden harp and getting lost in the music.
The air was still with the last of the night creatures finding their beds, the world not yet awakening to the new day that was but a short few hours away. A soft, cool breeze blows through the leaves on nearby trees; waking the morning birds from their slumber to start their morning songs as the sky started to lighten from above. Blacks lightened to greys, greys shifted to blues, everything seeming to start to wake up as the dawn crept over the horizon. There was one hooded soul that could be found, making her daily trip to the temple to greet the god Apollo as he brought the light for the new day. The air was chilled as the sent of damp soil from the dew filled the air as Kalliope made her way up the well trodden hill, having travelled it every day since she and her father came to Taengea. It was no problem for her to travel to the temple alone any longer, blind as she was, it was like her heart just knew the way. Listening to the birds sing their greetings to the sun, Kalli wished that she could see the colors the sky shifted and became painted with, like she had so many times before. The smell of growing things and the dew filled her senses even as the chill started to melt away as the sun climbed higher. Though she couldn't see it, she could still feel its warmth cover her like blanket. A small basket rested in the crook of her arm, holding her little harp and some of the offerings that she brought. In the basket, the offerings that it contained were some pastries and a wreath made of laurel that she liked to place around the pastries on her offering plate. The pastries were still warm, the heat seeping through the cloth wrap that she used to cover them and warming her arm just above. Kalliope made her trip and offerings to Apollo every day, not always because she had something to request but because she just wanted to. She never knew if he could see, if it might be something that could make him smile possibly or even if he was having a bad day it would make it even a small bit better. Not that she would ever think of herself important in the eyes of a god no matter what she did, but if anything else, it made her feel good. Hearing the sounds of the ground under her steps shift and change, signalling that she was right in front of temple, and with cautious steps she made her way slowly and carefully up each step. The moment she reached the door however, Kalliope lowered her hood as she turned her face towards the sun. Golden hair flowed down her back as she let the light warm her skin as she wished for a moment that she could see the colors that the dawn painted the sky with, itching to paint once more. It was an old wish that Kalliope eased with memories, taking comfort that she could still play her harp and sing her songs.
Turning back, she entered the temple and made her way to the alter to place her offerings. Inside, the warmth of the sun had not yet chased the chill of the night away, making goosebumps form across her skin that was not warmed by the baked goods in her basket. Arriving at the alter, she placed her items in their place with a prayer for continued good health for her family before finding her place on the floor nearby. With her legs curled under her, Kalliope started to play a soft tune on her little golden harp and getting lost in the music.
Eight years into her foray as Anastasia of the Siren's Song, the young bard had grown well into her place in society. Always, there was someone to entertain, whether they asked for it or not. Always, there was someone to learn about, something to pinpoint in a mark that might bring rise to the truest self born from the rigors of time.
Anastasia, the bard, was but a facsimile, a skill-set born from genuine interests turned about with time and adopted with a false identity. Everything that was Calliope of Aetaea had become the ruse known as Anastasia. Liberated from the bonds of marriage, of the past, and the consequences of circumstance, the bard reveled in every bit of freedom her talents brought to her. Free to sleep through the day and work through into the night, Ana had given herself more than enough time to rest after a task well done.
The night was fruitful for Ana, and within her rented suite was plenty of bounty, bound by locks and secured in hideaways within the suite itself and a trenched cave off the shores of Taengea. She'd not yet slept, and felt little of the fatigue of a sleepless night. No, she'd risen but twelve hours earlier, just before she'd begin her machinations of the evening. With it all passed by and accomplished, the would-be siren decided to offer some of her ill-gotten gains in sacrifice to the Gods.
There was Hermes, who she paid homage privately, each heist and each manipulation game a secret service to him. She gave praise to Poseidon, and already her dip into the ocean to give the due sacrifice in his own domain. Then, when it came to Apollo, a God she worshiped readily so as to charm her with the guile suited to her position as a bard... she would give him his sacrifices in person.
Walking up the steps to the temple, Anastasia felt a vivid warmth, beginning within her chest only to meet the warmth on her sun-kissed skin. She tipped her head upwards, letting herself bask in the light before she turned her attentions towards those that paid their homage with music. Ana placed a number of coins on the altar before she approached a young girl playing on a harp.
Ana, pleased by the sound of it, let her voice pour from her throat, a wordless melody following in tandem with the rise and fall of her moving of the strings. The player was as lovely as the music was, and Anastasia offered a pointed smile, attempting to make eye contact with no avail. Instead of dwelling on that for so long, she sat very near to the harp player, only letting her voice out again when it was clear that there was a lull in the music.
"You play beautifully." the siren spoke, a grin caught upon her expression as she asked on,
"Did you learn at the University for the Arts?"
Ana had been to that University once before, and the mixture of different studies available at one place drew her interest quite deeply. However, she hoped for a contrary answer, for someone to have garnered their talents without the need for study. To be self-taught, in her experience, often denoted a greater extent of passion.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Eight years into her foray as Anastasia of the Siren's Song, the young bard had grown well into her place in society. Always, there was someone to entertain, whether they asked for it or not. Always, there was someone to learn about, something to pinpoint in a mark that might bring rise to the truest self born from the rigors of time.
Anastasia, the bard, was but a facsimile, a skill-set born from genuine interests turned about with time and adopted with a false identity. Everything that was Calliope of Aetaea had become the ruse known as Anastasia. Liberated from the bonds of marriage, of the past, and the consequences of circumstance, the bard reveled in every bit of freedom her talents brought to her. Free to sleep through the day and work through into the night, Ana had given herself more than enough time to rest after a task well done.
The night was fruitful for Ana, and within her rented suite was plenty of bounty, bound by locks and secured in hideaways within the suite itself and a trenched cave off the shores of Taengea. She'd not yet slept, and felt little of the fatigue of a sleepless night. No, she'd risen but twelve hours earlier, just before she'd begin her machinations of the evening. With it all passed by and accomplished, the would-be siren decided to offer some of her ill-gotten gains in sacrifice to the Gods.
There was Hermes, who she paid homage privately, each heist and each manipulation game a secret service to him. She gave praise to Poseidon, and already her dip into the ocean to give the due sacrifice in his own domain. Then, when it came to Apollo, a God she worshiped readily so as to charm her with the guile suited to her position as a bard... she would give him his sacrifices in person.
Walking up the steps to the temple, Anastasia felt a vivid warmth, beginning within her chest only to meet the warmth on her sun-kissed skin. She tipped her head upwards, letting herself bask in the light before she turned her attentions towards those that paid their homage with music. Ana placed a number of coins on the altar before she approached a young girl playing on a harp.
Ana, pleased by the sound of it, let her voice pour from her throat, a wordless melody following in tandem with the rise and fall of her moving of the strings. The player was as lovely as the music was, and Anastasia offered a pointed smile, attempting to make eye contact with no avail. Instead of dwelling on that for so long, she sat very near to the harp player, only letting her voice out again when it was clear that there was a lull in the music.
"You play beautifully." the siren spoke, a grin caught upon her expression as she asked on,
"Did you learn at the University for the Arts?"
Ana had been to that University once before, and the mixture of different studies available at one place drew her interest quite deeply. However, she hoped for a contrary answer, for someone to have garnered their talents without the need for study. To be self-taught, in her experience, often denoted a greater extent of passion.
Eight years into her foray as Anastasia of the Siren's Song, the young bard had grown well into her place in society. Always, there was someone to entertain, whether they asked for it or not. Always, there was someone to learn about, something to pinpoint in a mark that might bring rise to the truest self born from the rigors of time.
Anastasia, the bard, was but a facsimile, a skill-set born from genuine interests turned about with time and adopted with a false identity. Everything that was Calliope of Aetaea had become the ruse known as Anastasia. Liberated from the bonds of marriage, of the past, and the consequences of circumstance, the bard reveled in every bit of freedom her talents brought to her. Free to sleep through the day and work through into the night, Ana had given herself more than enough time to rest after a task well done.
The night was fruitful for Ana, and within her rented suite was plenty of bounty, bound by locks and secured in hideaways within the suite itself and a trenched cave off the shores of Taengea. She'd not yet slept, and felt little of the fatigue of a sleepless night. No, she'd risen but twelve hours earlier, just before she'd begin her machinations of the evening. With it all passed by and accomplished, the would-be siren decided to offer some of her ill-gotten gains in sacrifice to the Gods.
There was Hermes, who she paid homage privately, each heist and each manipulation game a secret service to him. She gave praise to Poseidon, and already her dip into the ocean to give the due sacrifice in his own domain. Then, when it came to Apollo, a God she worshiped readily so as to charm her with the guile suited to her position as a bard... she would give him his sacrifices in person.
Walking up the steps to the temple, Anastasia felt a vivid warmth, beginning within her chest only to meet the warmth on her sun-kissed skin. She tipped her head upwards, letting herself bask in the light before she turned her attentions towards those that paid their homage with music. Ana placed a number of coins on the altar before she approached a young girl playing on a harp.
Ana, pleased by the sound of it, let her voice pour from her throat, a wordless melody following in tandem with the rise and fall of her moving of the strings. The player was as lovely as the music was, and Anastasia offered a pointed smile, attempting to make eye contact with no avail. Instead of dwelling on that for so long, she sat very near to the harp player, only letting her voice out again when it was clear that there was a lull in the music.
"You play beautifully." the siren spoke, a grin caught upon her expression as she asked on,
"Did you learn at the University for the Arts?"
Ana had been to that University once before, and the mixture of different studies available at one place drew her interest quite deeply. However, she hoped for a contrary answer, for someone to have garnered their talents without the need for study. To be self-taught, in her experience, often denoted a greater extent of passion.
Kalliope found herself drifting in the rise and fall of her little harp, each note bringing playful memories of her past of playing in fields and streams, watching clouds rolling by as flowers danced in the breeze. Each note flowed through her very core, speaking of laughs and smiles, mixed with a touch of longing to have those moments again. The sound of movement beside her almost made Kalliope jump from not paying attention to her surroundings, silently cursing herself for still not grasping that skill yet.
Kalliope relaxed when the woman beside her started to sing with her music, making her smile at the beauty of it. Another music lover, a singer of possible tales and adventures that would make Apollo smile. To blend with the bard's notes and matched them with her own in a hum, a blend that danced and twirled through the air to whoever listened. When the girl went high, Kalliope's went low, blending in perfect harmony with the harp. The music so beautiful, the sound brought tears burning to Kalliope's eyes as she did a closed-lipped smile.
Once the song reached the end, Kalliope turned towards the voice and though she could not see through her clouded eyes, she offered a true smile. A compliment, one she had heard often enough but not by someone with talent seemingly excelling her own. "Thank you, your song.. your voice was without compare." Hugging her harp to her, Kalliope listened and shook her head at the woman's question. "No, there was never any university. I have had tutors, many years ago. There is a university for the arts?" Though she should have heard something about the school, Kalli could not recall it, her face showing her wonder at such a place. In the background, she thought she heard a sound that reminded her of a footstep but shrugged it off. Kalliope was still learning how to handle the sensitivity of her hearing when she paid attention, so most times she shrugged it off, especially here in the temple.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Kalliope found herself drifting in the rise and fall of her little harp, each note bringing playful memories of her past of playing in fields and streams, watching clouds rolling by as flowers danced in the breeze. Each note flowed through her very core, speaking of laughs and smiles, mixed with a touch of longing to have those moments again. The sound of movement beside her almost made Kalliope jump from not paying attention to her surroundings, silently cursing herself for still not grasping that skill yet.
Kalliope relaxed when the woman beside her started to sing with her music, making her smile at the beauty of it. Another music lover, a singer of possible tales and adventures that would make Apollo smile. To blend with the bard's notes and matched them with her own in a hum, a blend that danced and twirled through the air to whoever listened. When the girl went high, Kalliope's went low, blending in perfect harmony with the harp. The music so beautiful, the sound brought tears burning to Kalliope's eyes as she did a closed-lipped smile.
Once the song reached the end, Kalliope turned towards the voice and though she could not see through her clouded eyes, she offered a true smile. A compliment, one she had heard often enough but not by someone with talent seemingly excelling her own. "Thank you, your song.. your voice was without compare." Hugging her harp to her, Kalliope listened and shook her head at the woman's question. "No, there was never any university. I have had tutors, many years ago. There is a university for the arts?" Though she should have heard something about the school, Kalli could not recall it, her face showing her wonder at such a place. In the background, she thought she heard a sound that reminded her of a footstep but shrugged it off. Kalliope was still learning how to handle the sensitivity of her hearing when she paid attention, so most times she shrugged it off, especially here in the temple.
Kalliope found herself drifting in the rise and fall of her little harp, each note bringing playful memories of her past of playing in fields and streams, watching clouds rolling by as flowers danced in the breeze. Each note flowed through her very core, speaking of laughs and smiles, mixed with a touch of longing to have those moments again. The sound of movement beside her almost made Kalliope jump from not paying attention to her surroundings, silently cursing herself for still not grasping that skill yet.
Kalliope relaxed when the woman beside her started to sing with her music, making her smile at the beauty of it. Another music lover, a singer of possible tales and adventures that would make Apollo smile. To blend with the bard's notes and matched them with her own in a hum, a blend that danced and twirled through the air to whoever listened. When the girl went high, Kalliope's went low, blending in perfect harmony with the harp. The music so beautiful, the sound brought tears burning to Kalliope's eyes as she did a closed-lipped smile.
Once the song reached the end, Kalliope turned towards the voice and though she could not see through her clouded eyes, she offered a true smile. A compliment, one she had heard often enough but not by someone with talent seemingly excelling her own. "Thank you, your song.. your voice was without compare." Hugging her harp to her, Kalliope listened and shook her head at the woman's question. "No, there was never any university. I have had tutors, many years ago. There is a university for the arts?" Though she should have heard something about the school, Kalli could not recall it, her face showing her wonder at such a place. In the background, she thought she heard a sound that reminded her of a footstep but shrugged it off. Kalliope was still learning how to handle the sensitivity of her hearing when she paid attention, so most times she shrugged it off, especially here in the temple.
The life of a busker and a bard made certain compromises a necessity. Anastasia spent years traveling throughout Greece, and she'd learned early on that piling too many adornments made it cumbersome for her to pursue her other... ambitions. Stowing away an instrument was a task she wasn't up to, and instead, she brought with her the panpipes she used exclusively to draw attention to herself and left it at that. The tasks of implementing stringed instruments and the composition of song could be left to other performers. Ana? She was a storyteller, weaving her words as poetry rather than music. She called to the legends of the mighty Gods and the local festivities and mischief that were flung in her direction.
But never did she forget the passion that song brought with it. The composition of melody allowed for an altogether different bond with an audience, and though in this moment, the audience was solely herself and the other performer, she gave it her all, regardless. That was, of course, until their numbers grew by one. Anastasia seemed to notice the guest where her companion did not, and though the busker was quite eager to acknowledge what was a very attractive young man, she kept her attention fixed to the woman who praised her singing, instead. She felt the heat whisk at her expression as she tilted her head. She found eye contact with this woman close to impossible, and a tich of irritation caught her until she did meet her eyes at last.
Oh...
Immediately, a massive stab of regret caught within Anastasia. She allowed a momentary lapse of anger to catch her at something so trivial and then... She's blind, she realized. The fact of it didn't disappoint Anastasia so much as it enthralled her. A young musician with such a limitation was still capable of doing what she did. If Ana was without her eyes... truly she didn't know what she'd do without the most beautiful of the senses. She swallowed her horror, a soft 'ah' of understanding. The respect she had for this musician doubled at the innocent asking, the question drawing a bit of laughter from the bard as she answered,
"Yes, of course! Apollo sees it fit to bless Taengea with a strong love for that which brings beauty to this world. The University isn't so far away, but its attendance is... limited," she bemoaned. Anastasia had the distinct pleasure of attending a class or two in her time, but that was owed to her capacity for blending into her environment and a bit of a streak of luck. Forcing her way into it seemed infinitely preferable than doing something as tragic as paying for one's access to the arts. It seemed mechanical... devoid of its passion, to consign something so elusive as the artist's soul to the fate of soulless purchase.
However, she kept such thoughts to herself in the moment, not wanting to sully the atmosphere within Apollo's temple with such a negative outlook. Instead, she asked,
"Surely, you've outclassed your tutors. Truly, it was a marvel to listen to you play."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
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The life of a busker and a bard made certain compromises a necessity. Anastasia spent years traveling throughout Greece, and she'd learned early on that piling too many adornments made it cumbersome for her to pursue her other... ambitions. Stowing away an instrument was a task she wasn't up to, and instead, she brought with her the panpipes she used exclusively to draw attention to herself and left it at that. The tasks of implementing stringed instruments and the composition of song could be left to other performers. Ana? She was a storyteller, weaving her words as poetry rather than music. She called to the legends of the mighty Gods and the local festivities and mischief that were flung in her direction.
But never did she forget the passion that song brought with it. The composition of melody allowed for an altogether different bond with an audience, and though in this moment, the audience was solely herself and the other performer, she gave it her all, regardless. That was, of course, until their numbers grew by one. Anastasia seemed to notice the guest where her companion did not, and though the busker was quite eager to acknowledge what was a very attractive young man, she kept her attention fixed to the woman who praised her singing, instead. She felt the heat whisk at her expression as she tilted her head. She found eye contact with this woman close to impossible, and a tich of irritation caught her until she did meet her eyes at last.
Oh...
Immediately, a massive stab of regret caught within Anastasia. She allowed a momentary lapse of anger to catch her at something so trivial and then... She's blind, she realized. The fact of it didn't disappoint Anastasia so much as it enthralled her. A young musician with such a limitation was still capable of doing what she did. If Ana was without her eyes... truly she didn't know what she'd do without the most beautiful of the senses. She swallowed her horror, a soft 'ah' of understanding. The respect she had for this musician doubled at the innocent asking, the question drawing a bit of laughter from the bard as she answered,
"Yes, of course! Apollo sees it fit to bless Taengea with a strong love for that which brings beauty to this world. The University isn't so far away, but its attendance is... limited," she bemoaned. Anastasia had the distinct pleasure of attending a class or two in her time, but that was owed to her capacity for blending into her environment and a bit of a streak of luck. Forcing her way into it seemed infinitely preferable than doing something as tragic as paying for one's access to the arts. It seemed mechanical... devoid of its passion, to consign something so elusive as the artist's soul to the fate of soulless purchase.
However, she kept such thoughts to herself in the moment, not wanting to sully the atmosphere within Apollo's temple with such a negative outlook. Instead, she asked,
"Surely, you've outclassed your tutors. Truly, it was a marvel to listen to you play."
The life of a busker and a bard made certain compromises a necessity. Anastasia spent years traveling throughout Greece, and she'd learned early on that piling too many adornments made it cumbersome for her to pursue her other... ambitions. Stowing away an instrument was a task she wasn't up to, and instead, she brought with her the panpipes she used exclusively to draw attention to herself and left it at that. The tasks of implementing stringed instruments and the composition of song could be left to other performers. Ana? She was a storyteller, weaving her words as poetry rather than music. She called to the legends of the mighty Gods and the local festivities and mischief that were flung in her direction.
But never did she forget the passion that song brought with it. The composition of melody allowed for an altogether different bond with an audience, and though in this moment, the audience was solely herself and the other performer, she gave it her all, regardless. That was, of course, until their numbers grew by one. Anastasia seemed to notice the guest where her companion did not, and though the busker was quite eager to acknowledge what was a very attractive young man, she kept her attention fixed to the woman who praised her singing, instead. She felt the heat whisk at her expression as she tilted her head. She found eye contact with this woman close to impossible, and a tich of irritation caught her until she did meet her eyes at last.
Oh...
Immediately, a massive stab of regret caught within Anastasia. She allowed a momentary lapse of anger to catch her at something so trivial and then... She's blind, she realized. The fact of it didn't disappoint Anastasia so much as it enthralled her. A young musician with such a limitation was still capable of doing what she did. If Ana was without her eyes... truly she didn't know what she'd do without the most beautiful of the senses. She swallowed her horror, a soft 'ah' of understanding. The respect she had for this musician doubled at the innocent asking, the question drawing a bit of laughter from the bard as she answered,
"Yes, of course! Apollo sees it fit to bless Taengea with a strong love for that which brings beauty to this world. The University isn't so far away, but its attendance is... limited," she bemoaned. Anastasia had the distinct pleasure of attending a class or two in her time, but that was owed to her capacity for blending into her environment and a bit of a streak of luck. Forcing her way into it seemed infinitely preferable than doing something as tragic as paying for one's access to the arts. It seemed mechanical... devoid of its passion, to consign something so elusive as the artist's soul to the fate of soulless purchase.
However, she kept such thoughts to herself in the moment, not wanting to sully the atmosphere within Apollo's temple with such a negative outlook. Instead, she asked,
"Surely, you've outclassed your tutors. Truly, it was a marvel to listen to you play."