[ And Byerly stops, with three slow resonant beats on the drum - like this was something ceremonial, like this is the dismissal of the spirits they've summoned. Perhaps it was something rather ceremonial. Voice and drum - some believe that was all it took to summon the Maker, no? That Andraste's holy work required nothing more than the vibration of air.
Those vibrations taper off into nothing. The space feels enormous, almost boundless, in the absence of noise; it feels like there's some music in that silence, like nothingness is playing some sort of coda. He smiles at it.
And then he scrambles out of the orchestra pit (ten years ago, it would have been a daring leap; this is more of an awkward hop-and-roll onto the stage) and joins Bastien on the stage. ]
There's a cello down there.
[ No questions about what he shouted. No cheeky congratulations on a job well done. If Bastien got anything out of it, found anything freeing, the way that Byerly does in a storm, that's between him and the noise. ]
no subject
Those vibrations taper off into nothing. The space feels enormous, almost boundless, in the absence of noise; it feels like there's some music in that silence, like nothingness is playing some sort of coda. He smiles at it.
And then he scrambles out of the orchestra pit (ten years ago, it would have been a daring leap; this is more of an awkward hop-and-roll onto the stage) and joins Bastien on the stage. ]
There's a cello down there.
[ No questions about what he shouted. No cheeky congratulations on a job well done. If Bastien got anything out of it, found anything freeing, the way that Byerly does in a storm, that's between him and the noise. ]