Ripples and Reflections: The Harper

Es humoured Korvynn and the girl with her harp. At least, that's how it started.

Another tale Korvynn insisted telling or having told about himself. If it were anyone else, Es would have made an excuse and left. But something about Korvynn's open-book behaviour was still so refreshing.

So Es humoured them.

Then the harper started her song.

It was a song about Korvynn. Or someone Korvynn knew. Probably that girl he tried to bring up a few times. The one he had lost.

But there was something else about it.

The girl played and sang. The notes from the harp wove with her voice.

And the words...

The words she chose. As if she was not writing a song about Korvynn's grief, but embodied it herself.

A reflection, indeed.

Korvynn left, and they remained, talking for hours.

Disconcerting. She was masked, so was he. Yet revelations were drawn both ways.

...You are getting too comfortable...

They said their farewells, and he rode back to Herne more slowly than usual, with that song that didn't belong to her, and had utterly nothing to do with him, still in his ears.

"I didn't sleep since I wrote it."

What a haunting creature.