video (feel free to move to action)

[losthere]

[The screen flicks on to reveal a serious faced young man with hair that has little interest in the laws of gravity and eyes that glow a faint, eerie green. The background behind him appears to be a fuzzy lime green.

Except for the velociraptor sitting at the table wearing a top hat and monocle and delicately sipping tea from a very fragile looking cup, one claw carefully extended.

Cloud seems to be ignoring everything but the screen.]

I need a motorcycle. If anyone can help me find one, I'd appreciate it.

Comments

[defaming]

Do you play music, yourself?

Ah, no. There are schools for music here, and I simply talked to the right people. With a little finesse, it wasn't too difficult to obtain the violin.

It's more that I have the use of it indefinitely than it belonging to me permanently, but it amounts to the same thing. I'm sure you could talk to someone about a motorcycle.

[losthere]

[ivory keys... plunking out childhood notes one tapping finger at a time...]

No.

[He's found that some of the half memories that bubble to the surface of his mind from time to time... hurt. Deep aches in his chest or sharp, sudden jabs. He shies away from them. They're too vulnerable. Easier to let them sink again into whatever darkness is over his past. Easier to deal with the here and now. Safer.]

Did they want anything in trade?

[defaming]

I see. Are you an admirer of music, then?

[Kristoph doesn't have a great deal of empathy (if any), so if Cloud gives any sign that he's feeling pain from his half-forgotten memory, it goes unnoticed.]

Not at all. There is the understanding that I will give it back if asked, but I've been able to keep it with me and practice as much as I like. I also let them know that I'd be willing to play for them, if they so desired.

[losthere]

[It's a sore spot for Cloud but one he wants just the same and he doesn't know why. It's confusing and he doesn't like the feeling. It feels too helpless. Too... familiar.

But he still wants to hear the music.]

I - like music.

[It comes out reluctantly and, to him, sounds stupid. What's so special about notes of sound?

do-re-me-ti-la-do-re-do]

I dream it. Sometimes

[Which is even stupider and he shuts down wherever that's trying to go with a scowl.]

So it's just a trade for service. [That doesn't sound too bad. That sounds familiar. He can manage that. Something inside him feels comfortable with the notion of fetching things in exchange for an item or working small jobs.]

[defaming]

What kind of music do you enjoy?

Music can be very moving, very powerful in its way. Especially where the mind and emotions are concerned. I don't doubt its ability to affect the subconscious. I've had dreams with music in them myself.

Yes, you could consider it so. [Really, it was Kristoph talking and manipulating as he likes to do, but he's not about to go into that.]

[losthere]

[He's really not sure how the conversation ended up being about music. He - hadn't realized it meant anything to him at all until the other man had started talking, pulling up fragments and broken pieces inside him. But he listens when the blond talks about music, taking his words as truth, letting it settle. In the echoes in the hollow parts of him music feels... soothing. And lonely. His brows are down when he looks back up at the screen.]

I don't know. I - don't remember. [It confesses to much more than just notes of lost music but he's still just talking about the music.]

[defaming]

I see. I hope you're not experiencing any difficulties. [He says this with a gentle smile, a concerned look in his eyes. He's a considerate man, after all.]

While you're here, you should take the opportunity to listen to some music. We have music stores in Orlea.

[That child he'd met had done the same.]

It may jog your memory. You might as well make good use of our time here, as we've been asked to make the best of it.

[losthere]

[experiencing any difficulties?

That gets a grunt that might, maybe, hold a hint of amusement. That could pretty much cover things, Cloud guesses. His eyes narrow after that though, thoughtful. Music... it doesn't feel as - broken, as - pointy - as some of his shattered, half lost memories do when they try to bubble up inside. Maybe the other man is right.

Free time... it's a strange concept. Cloud's not sure what to do with himself - now that there's no war. No pointless battles scheduled to repeat the next lifetime. He can... there's time.]

Hm. [a head nod, just once. He wouldn't have thought of it himself... but he would have thought of music to start with] Thanks.