(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Sinric can't bring himself to let go of Ragnar's hand all the way to their rooms. He hesitates a moment before gently pulling Ragnar towards his own rooms. They don't feel right any more, like clothes that no longer fit but it feels better than the empty place where Athelstan isn't.

But then he wonders if Ragnar would prefer his own bed, to warm the sheets left cold by Athelstan's absence with better memories.

The uncertainty makes him hesitate, biting his lip.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric stretches up on his toes to kiss Ragnar. "Thank you, for understanding. I don't want you to think I'm leaving. I just need to change."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"You are simply changing your room," Ragnar says, shaking his head. "No reason for worry at all."

[thewidewideworld]

He kisses Ragnar again in thanks, taking his hand. "Shall I go down now and ask? I'm sure with the bar's magic it can be done swiftly."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"So I think as well," Ragnar says. "There's no hurry for me to get inside, so take your time."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and gives Ragnar a little squeeze. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

And slips downstairs.

A few moments later, the door to Sinric's old room vanishes and a new one appears on the other side of the room, near the main door.

A few moments later, the door opens and Sinric, smiling, pops his head in. "Ragnar. Come see."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar steps inside.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's new rooms are very much larger than the compact space he had before. Very much in the style of a Roman villa, the room is high and vaulted. Unlike Ecbert's run down ruin, the arching stone here is rendered in warm white plaster and bordered by narrow frescos of beasts from all over the world.

The floors are tiled in simple repeating patterns of an almost Arab style with thick carpets of Persian making here and there. There is no fireplace but the floor is warmed from below. The bed is comfortable large and spread with Sinric's own furs.

His harpsichord is set in a corner, under one vaulted section of roof that Sinric somehow already knows will resonate perfectly.

Bookshelves line one wall with a great map of the world as it is known in their time painted into the gap between them.

A portico balcony is lined with the clear, large glass of the future age, keeping in the warmth in but leading the eye out to the eastern aspect of the snow covered gardens.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"This is a room worthy of a -- anyone, really," Ragnar says, admiringly. "And that map! Look, there is England!"

[thewidewideworld]

"This is the Bar's doing, not mine. I asked for a room with more space and windows to the east. I wasn't expecting anything so grand."

He comes over journey Ragnar at the map, smiling softly at the little dotted lines crossing land masses and seas. "I think she wants to remind me how far I've come."

He rests his finger on the map, tracing the line from Bulgaria to the Sinese empire. "A year this took. And more than a year to recover."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"In the future, people fly there in one night," Ragnar muses. "But there is doubt if their souls can follow."

[thewidewideworld]

"And do they value it? If so a journey can be bought so cheaply." He muses, following the line up to Mongolia and back, meandering through the territories of the Tang before crossing to Nippon.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I don't think they do," Ragnar says. "On either side. From all I here, all the world is becoming more like the rest of it in the future, with people using the same tables and plates and listening to the same music in Kattegat and Nara."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods. "Each place would lose the things that made them special. And not value the things that travelled to be had."

He looks up at Ragnar, lips curled in a smirk. "I could imagine singing the songs of Nara at your table in Kattegat. Most people would hate it and throw things at me."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar grins. "Why?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Sino and Nippon music has a different sound to it, a different set of notes. It can be very jarring to people not use to it. But I find it beautiful because of that. Because it is so different."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Can you show me?"

Ragnar will always be curious. Always. It's part of his nature, as much as it is of Athelstan's or Sinric's.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and take a couple of steps back, moving to the centre of the ceiling's vaulting, wanted to test his theory about the acoustics.

He takes a deep breath and sings. The song is a simple one, a fisher-wife's lament but it demonstrates the eastern scales perfectly.

He moves as he sings, his body remembering the graceful dance that went with it. Short, hailing steps as the widow prepares to throw herself into the sea.

And yes, the acoustics in the room are perfect, lending a haunted air to Sinric's voice.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar may be staring -- this is as alien as it is beautiful.

But yes, he can understand why some of his warriors would pelt such a performance with apple cores.

[thewidewideworld]

And yet the story would translate to anywhere where men left by sea and never came back.

Sinric lets the last, dying note fade, his pale face upheld. Despite the sadness of the song, he can't help but smile. This room!

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes, that was strange," Ragnar agrees. "But I like it!"

[thewidewideworld]

"It takes some getting use to." Sinric nods, stepping back to Ragnar. His cheeks are flushed pink with the joy of singing and the way the room sounds.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"The room is made for music?" Ragnar guesses.

[thewidewideworld]

"So it would seem." Sinric smiles. He sings a simple set of scales, moving from one arched space to the next to see how the quality of the sound changes.

The acoustic around the bed are marvelous!

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"They have made you a bedroom to sing in!" Ragnar says. "Your cries of pleasure will echo as sweetly as song."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs. "I hadn't really thought of that." He lets himself fall gracefully onto the bed, arms akimbo and sings a series of high, sweet notes. And almost blushes at the way they resound. Pleasure on this bed is going to be very... expressive.