The minstrel—ex-minstrel?—was certainly still dazed by the events if not blows to the head. There was no sign of intense damage to his skull, but perhaps a healer would see what wasn't obvious to the untrained eye. Were he more calm, he might have acceded to Torin's will and gone to the Tranquil Gardens, only asking for Lyra's help if he wanted a second opinion when it came to his precious hand.
Torin embraced him. That was new. He didn't know the man well, had only met him while busking and invited him to a recital here or a show there since the man enjoyed music. He hadn't seen him in a while and certainly hadn't expected him to come calling on today of all days, but he supposed that was lucky as he wasn't quite capable of taking care of himself just yet. He wished Arry were here, though an irrational part of him was glad he wasn't. This was not a situation he wanted to put Arry through.
So he wept on the shoulder of a kindly acquaintance who was tending his hurts.
And then Arry was there, or perhaps he was well and truly hallucinating. Finn couldn't see aether—that is, he couldn't see all aether all the time. He was attuned to symphonies, which allowed him to sense aether that had any bearing on the machinations of Mesmer. Sometimes he saw it, other times he heard it or other. In reality, as much as people talked about it with regard to music and sound, it wasn't either in reality. The musical metaphors were just an easier way for the mind to grasp it all.
But now he saw Arry, clothed in golden power like some terrible aspect of the divine.
The thugs hadn't been angry; they had been sadistic.
Arry was angry, and there was something sadistic about his symphony. Finn could sense it through his own Rune, which ached under the hair covering his scalp. He attacked Torin, and the lines of power reverberated before him. Though they hadn't been intended for him, their feedback made him groan and collapse in on himself even more than he had under the weight of Torin's kindness.
"Arry..."
Torin embraced him. That was new. He didn't know the man well, had only met him while busking and invited him to a recital here or a show there since the man enjoyed music. He hadn't seen him in a while and certainly hadn't expected him to come calling on today of all days, but he supposed that was lucky as he wasn't quite capable of taking care of himself just yet. He wished Arry were here, though an irrational part of him was glad he wasn't. This was not a situation he wanted to put Arry through.
So he wept on the shoulder of a kindly acquaintance who was tending his hurts.
And then Arry was there, or perhaps he was well and truly hallucinating. Finn couldn't see aether—that is, he couldn't see all aether all the time. He was attuned to symphonies, which allowed him to sense aether that had any bearing on the machinations of Mesmer. Sometimes he saw it, other times he heard it or other. In reality, as much as people talked about it with regard to music and sound, it wasn't either in reality. The musical metaphors were just an easier way for the mind to grasp it all.
But now he saw Arry, clothed in golden power like some terrible aspect of the divine.
The thugs hadn't been angry; they had been sadistic.
Arry was angry, and there was something sadistic about his symphony. Finn could sense it through his own Rune, which ached under the hair covering his scalp. He attacked Torin, and the lines of power reverberated before him. Though they hadn't been intended for him, their feedback made him groan and collapse in on himself even more than he had under the weight of Torin's kindness.
"Arry..."