Inktober 2021 - Fan

snick...
swish-snick

A heady humidity filled the room, which was infused with the underlying scent of battle-scarred boiled leather, and a slightly sickly mix of fragrant cooking blended with an over-ripe perfume hanging about the thrown pillows of the divan.

They waited.

snick...
swish-snick

The sleight-shouldered late-entry to the group, oblivious to the stifle, was all hood, but for a pointed chin jutting, and the embossed ivory-and-fabric fan which passed the time as it snapped open and closed incessantly.

The Goliath adjusted his shoulder pack, trying not to loom, and with a thought to brighten the mood, eased a large, though quite flattened travelling lute from within his cavernous havesack. Gingerly he plucked a sting, then another.

thwung-thrung

A broad smile cracked the face of the half-orc, as they swung out a steely looking harp, and immidiately replied with a powerfully thrumming chord.

hvwyuh-vhudu-whuh

The hooded figure seemed to hold their breath, and the fan paused in the air, mid stroke, overlong, and then snapping free, swiping shut with a swift and sharp snap.

shhwriick...
shryww-shrick

The Goliath took it as a sign, and leaned in, letting burst forth a heart jig the minded him of home's hills, while as one the orc and hooded figure snapped and strummed along.

And so it was that they who had not met yet knew each other as well as ever.