01-02-2019, 10:50 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]/ les mis,,, my heart,,,,
Orpheus remembers, suddenly and rather unexpectedly, that today was supposed to be about cleaning. But suddenly that task doesn't quite matter much, though he has strings of lights draped over his body and dust everywhere, he finds himself a little more intrigued by the mention of the Christmas gifts he'd given and the promise of a song. The lion's head tilts, a motion curious instead of confused. "Les Misérables," he answers with a little nod, his accent surprisingly accurate for at least that small phrase. There were very few sweet songs in that musical, and unless Clarence started singing "Master of the House" all on his own — which would have been incredibly impressive but also terrifying — he knows to brace himself for whatever feelings the song is about to stir up. This one had always been good at that, though he himself had only stumbled into the story on accident, without personal attachment.
He listens with a quiet, soft sort of awe, his head slowly tilting again. For a moment, his mind wanders to the story and the other songs there. The lion's heart sinks quietly and twists with the pain of it all, but it is a beautiful song, and a story that he can relate to. Not that he's ever been a part of organized war, or — well maybe when he says he can relate to the story, he means the heartbreak and the loss and perhaps he means Éponine. She's far less likable in the book, but he can understand it. Though he's never lost someone the way that this song speaks of, he can understand that too. Dawn-colored eyes are soft as he watches Clarence, attention not straying until the song is over. "That's a good song." He tips his head from side to side, quiet expression finally breaking to a smile that contorts the delicate markings around his eyes. "Not happy, but — even the happy ones in that musical are a little ruined. But you have a nice voice too. It feels strange to admit that he wishes people would sing more.
After a moment of silence, he jolts and shifts as if remembering to work, his paws scrambling and then suddenly stilling again. Orpheus is familiar with some French, though he was taught by poor teachers, foreign books, and music. It's enough to recognize the words Ambroise says instead of sings. Maybe it's just his imagination that gives life to the words. He can imagine him singing it, even if he refuses to. After a quiet breath to draw himself back out of his thoughts, the lion finds that for once he's not entirely sure what to say. He's felt like he's walking on eggshells around him since their...argument, if he could call it that. Ambroise was a grump and this universe's Grinch incarnate, but he still deserved to have his boundaries respected. "You ignored my compliment," he finally accuses with a small smile, which he figures is a decent middle ground between accidentally spewing out another half-brained compliment and just shutting up.
The idea of him singing too had apparently managed to knock Orpheus off balance ever so slightly, with the way he blinks owlishly at Ambroise's back when he turns to leave. "You could help, if you're so eager to see it gone." But he doesn't press and he definitely doesn't sing, just turns in a circle looking for something else — anything else — to pick up and put away. "What about you, Tiger Man? You have something to sing?" he asks with a grin and a glance back to Jerseyboy.
Orpheus remembers, suddenly and rather unexpectedly, that today was supposed to be about cleaning. But suddenly that task doesn't quite matter much, though he has strings of lights draped over his body and dust everywhere, he finds himself a little more intrigued by the mention of the Christmas gifts he'd given and the promise of a song. The lion's head tilts, a motion curious instead of confused. "Les Misérables," he answers with a little nod, his accent surprisingly accurate for at least that small phrase. There were very few sweet songs in that musical, and unless Clarence started singing "Master of the House" all on his own — which would have been incredibly impressive but also terrifying — he knows to brace himself for whatever feelings the song is about to stir up. This one had always been good at that, though he himself had only stumbled into the story on accident, without personal attachment.
He listens with a quiet, soft sort of awe, his head slowly tilting again. For a moment, his mind wanders to the story and the other songs there. The lion's heart sinks quietly and twists with the pain of it all, but it is a beautiful song, and a story that he can relate to. Not that he's ever been a part of organized war, or — well maybe when he says he can relate to the story, he means the heartbreak and the loss and perhaps he means Éponine. She's far less likable in the book, but he can understand it. Though he's never lost someone the way that this song speaks of, he can understand that too. Dawn-colored eyes are soft as he watches Clarence, attention not straying until the song is over. "That's a good song." He tips his head from side to side, quiet expression finally breaking to a smile that contorts the delicate markings around his eyes. "Not happy, but — even the happy ones in that musical are a little ruined. But you have a nice voice too. It feels strange to admit that he wishes people would sing more.
After a moment of silence, he jolts and shifts as if remembering to work, his paws scrambling and then suddenly stilling again. Orpheus is familiar with some French, though he was taught by poor teachers, foreign books, and music. It's enough to recognize the words Ambroise says instead of sings. Maybe it's just his imagination that gives life to the words. He can imagine him singing it, even if he refuses to. After a quiet breath to draw himself back out of his thoughts, the lion finds that for once he's not entirely sure what to say. He's felt like he's walking on eggshells around him since their...argument, if he could call it that. Ambroise was a grump and this universe's Grinch incarnate, but he still deserved to have his boundaries respected. "You ignored my compliment," he finally accuses with a small smile, which he figures is a decent middle ground between accidentally spewing out another half-brained compliment and just shutting up.
The idea of him singing too had apparently managed to knock Orpheus off balance ever so slightly, with the way he blinks owlishly at Ambroise's back when he turns to leave. "You could help, if you're so eager to see it gone." But he doesn't press and he definitely doesn't sing, just turns in a circle looking for something else — anything else — to pick up and put away. "What about you, Tiger Man? You have something to sing?" he asks with a grin and a glance back to Jerseyboy.
[align=center][img width=300]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/c43c2c6d-b9e5-4952-a3d7-4db10fd90fe6/dcwzlwz-724bba54-d4ca-433b-ad25-a4a33df0b505.png/v1/fill/w_1175,h_680,strp/ded_lion_by_bluiestar_dcwzlwz-pre.png[/img]
I HAVE TROUBLES EVERY DAY BUT IT TURNS OUT FINE
[div style="font-size:8pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:arial;color:black;margin-top:-5px;margin-bottom:5px;"]｢ ❝ it turns out fine, and i fight to keep them all away ❞ | [color=black]biography – [color=black]tags ｣