[Marianna lays her head down on her pillow, pulling the quilt over her shoulders as she brings her phone close to her ear. Artemy's voice was raspy and rough but the song he gives her settles the initial uneasiness, working with the sound of the blood rain to atmosphere more tolerable.
She's reminded of Maxim's cadence. It pains her to think of him all of a sudden, but it was better to let the memory of him rise to the surface rather than try to stuff it back down. He was probably doing fine. Then she remembers her grandfather's voice, singing songs throughout the day when she was younger and then her father... (Did he sing? He must have. Maybe. He fell silent around her.)]
It's hard to translate the words, but it is a feeling of coming home, of being safe. Despite the cruel and harsh waters that we may find ourselves in. Some peace in the decisions that we've chosen. For there is no wrong choice when decided with one's will.
[It takes her a while. She leaves him a recorded message a few minutes later, well past midnight. The raindrops can be heard in the background, but Mari's voice can be heard over the din, telling a simple story of looking at others from the outside, a gentle and lonely song.
Oh, this rain It will continue Through the morning As I'm listening...
She doesn't finish the song. There are a few seconds of dead air before it ends. Her eyes are closed knowing that at least she gave something in return.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-07-11 04:56 am (UTC)But if you wish to hear it, then I shall do my best.
[ WELL HOW ABOUT A SONG but with this voice. :V ]
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Date: 2022-07-11 05:09 am (UTC)She's reminded of Maxim's cadence. It pains her to think of him all of a sudden, but it was better to let the memory of him rise to the surface rather than try to stuff it back down. He was probably doing fine. Then she remembers her grandfather's voice, singing songs throughout the day when she was younger and then her father... (Did he sing? He must have. Maybe. He fell silent around her.)]
I like it.
It's good medicine.
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Date: 2022-07-11 05:14 am (UTC)It is the song of my people. Those of the Steppe.
It's hard to translate the words, but it is a feeling of coming home, of being safe. Despite the cruel and harsh waters that we may find ourselves in. Some peace in the decisions that we've chosen. For there is no wrong choice when decided with one's will.
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Date: 2022-07-11 05:19 am (UTC)I know a lot of songs
I like singing them
I'm about to sleep but
Can I send one in return?
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Date: 2022-07-11 05:22 am (UTC)All songs are good for the soul.
They help us to heal and mourn in ways words cannot.
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Date: 2022-07-11 05:28 am (UTC)Oh, this rain
It will continue
Through the morning
As I'm listening...
She doesn't finish the song. There are a few seconds of dead air before it ends. Her eyes are closed knowing that at least she gave something in return.]
no subject
Date: 2022-07-11 05:48 am (UTC)He says aloud as he smiles; he thinks that she has fallen asleep and does not want to submit a notification that may wake her.
One day, he hopes to hear the rest of the song, but now is happy that they were able to heal one another. ]