[A couple of inkspots appear on the page, as if the owner of the journal is pondering what to write. Then a short pause, and it switches over to voice. Or perhaps "voice." After a minute of nothing but the wind and the faint sound of the river, the entry is cut off by the sound of the journal closing.
... Or is it?
About a half-hour later, there is a muffled thump and the sound of pages flapping through the air before another soft whump. Did someone... punch something over? Faintly, there's a note on a flute. Another, another... an... ear-piercing shrill.] I don't understand why this is so- [Soft grumbling. If one listens closely, they can pick out the occasional word. Something about some "Veros" character, and several shocking allegations about questionable portions of his anatomy. Yet another pause, and then...
SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Shortly followed by a small splash.
...
And then hurried footsteps and a much larger one.]
... Or is it?
About a half-hour later, there is a muffled thump and the sound of pages flapping through the air before another soft whump. Did someone... punch something over? Faintly, there's a note on a flute. Another, another... an... ear-piercing shrill.] I don't understand why this is so- [Soft grumbling. If one listens closely, they can pick out the occasional word. Something about some "Veros" character, and several shocking allegations about questionable portions of his anatomy. Yet another pause, and then...
SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Shortly followed by a small splash.
...
And then hurried footsteps and a much larger one.]
Designed by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
Any of what?
I'm at the river.
...and go hunting for a Sigmund.]
...actually, she looks faintly disappointed that he isn't in the river.]
Are you making something?
A flute.
And there's always the time-honoured way of finding out, she supposes. Continuing on to sit down beside Sigmund, eyes now carefully focused on the flute.]
Did you lose your old one?
He turns his head a bit to look at her with tired, half closed eyes, and then tests the note again. Not near ear-splitting anymore, but not quite in tune, either. He stares at it, and then goes on to work on the next one.]
I didn't have one.
Who did?
What makes you think anyone did?
Why are you making one if you didn't have one before?
[This totally answers his question. Right?]
I took lessons, once.
[That totally answers her question. Right?]
Are you very good?
[Look, Katie. Your favorite subject.]
[Actually... he'd love to teach her. He doesn't know how good he'd be at it, but he'd love to try. The echo ripples a little more, as if it's trying to make its own opinion on the subject known.]
You'd need a flute first.
Do you think I can find one at the shop? Or perhaps Brook has one.
All right, then. [And she tilts her head.] Were you swimming before?