The Chained Watcher

Side Story: An Ancient Song

Surprise! Double upload!

Callback to the chapter where they meet a cultivator. For the sake of avoiding repetition, it's skimming over most of the dialogue, more of an inner monologue than anything else, so I'd recommend rereading the chapter "Strange Music" to get the other side of it.

~~~

The group of strange travelers, drawn by his song in the way only the irrepressibly curious are, came to listen. Much like usual, they stand near him, captivated by the song of the lonely fountain.

He greets them. Hoping to get to hear more of this warm, playful tune the travelers carry, he happily humors their confused questions, but a strange tension starts seeping into his own song. It's faint, and he almost can't hear it, but it's like a sixth sense trying to warn him of... something. Is something dangerous nearby?

It's when he mentions the songs he hears that he catches a few notes of the danger. A quiet, oppressive sound, making his heart skip a beat as he notices one more among the group of travelers, eyes he can't meet watching him, analyzing him, gauging whether or not he's a threat. He hadn't even noticed that one among the others, and even now, he can barely hear any of the ancient tune as the incarnation of cruelty watches him.

He does the only thing he can think of. As all cultivators with a functioning brain do when they offend something they can't even hope to flee from, even if they don't understand the cause of the offense... He casts aside his pride, and he apologizes. The inaudible song is forcing his own into following its beat, somehow doing this without weighing on any of the other songs possessed by the travelers.

Without his eyes, lost in a confrontation with other beings like this one, he can't tell what he needs to say to lessen the danger he's in. If it's not dominating the songs of the travelers though... The travelers ask about their songs.

Hesitantly, he warns them that a person's song is usually a very private thing. Then, hoping that the peace present in those songs might somehow soothe the malice he can't hear, he offers to play a bit of it. Just a bit, since the curse inflicted on him has weakened him severely.

The travelers are insistent on wanting to hear it, so he begins to play, hoping that this is not the wrong move. The tune calms him slightly, his dao letting the music resonate with him and the possessors of this tune. And ever so faintly, he hears the suspicion in the ancient tune fade. His own song, though it's still suppressed, is no longer forced into near silence. A sense of dread that had been looming over him recedes, finally letting him breathe again.

The applause of his audience further eases his worry further, and he finds himself explaining to the travelers some of the unique quirks of each of their songs. The source of his fear is interacted with by the travelers without any hesitation, and the ancient song doesn't surface at their lighthearted teasing, remaining beneath the surface.

One has an older song than the others, yet still possesses a similar level of maturity, and is played with strange instruments. He'd like to explore that further, but the song becomes defensive, as if trying to hide its differences. Better to let the topic drop than risk offending the ancient one. Speaking of the ancient one, he can only detect their presence by the way the mundane sound echoes around, with the ponderous, heavy tune being once again undetectable now that he's not being treated like a potential threat.

He takes a risk. He addresses the ancient one. The act brings his song closer to theirs, but the subtle sense of danger doesn't rise again, and he can hear a few of the notes, distant and muffled. It's almost as if the song is suppressing itself, in more ways than one. And much to his relief, the ancient one responds. Sarcastically, yes, but without any signs of offense.