ooc did my research on the handpan to the best of my ability; it's basically like a steel drum flipped over! y'all probably know the sound - it's really common in caribbean music here's a link if you've never heard one before!
ic It wasn't that Georgia had a thing about the beach and the ocean; she wasn't about to go around announcing how different and quirky she was because she was a "beach girl;" she was just directly descended from the living, breathing embodiment of the waves and hated the cramped feeling beneath the foliage of the island. She liked being able to breathe and have room to move - liked to feel the sand under her paws and be where the wind was. It helped that the island was rimmed with beaches; some had soft sand, some had dunes, and some had hard-packed, well worn and loved shorelines.
That being said and explained, Georgia did want to stay out of the heat for the day. For a child of the sea, she was strangely awful at staying hydrated. The sun only made her symptoms worse - dizzy and tired and nauseous. Logically, she should go search for water, perhaps from the tavern; instead she got sidetracked halfway there. Naturally. A shiny bit of metal caught her eye as she made her way through the undergrowth (which got easier, thank god).
Curious, the girl investigated, batting at the object before deeming it was inanimate. She dragged it out from underneath a fern: a great big metal thing, covered in methodical dents. It was larger than her, and relatively flat on top: a steel drum. Or, more accurately, it's inverted cousin, the handpan.
Georgia's expression lit up. "No way!" She cried, elated. She'd learned to play these! Her father used to carry a much smaller one on him, and taught her to play. He'd said it was how he courted and gained the affections of her mother, though to this day, Georgia couldn't recall if he was joking or not.
"God, it's so much bigger. I wonder if that means the sound is deeper..." She mumbled to herself. The sandy feline bopped one of the dents, and a sweet sound rumbled around in the pan. Giddy, Georgia tapped on another, eliciting a second pleasant noise. "Awesome..." She breathed. Soon enough, she was tapping out the song that her father used to play for her.
ic It wasn't that Georgia had a thing about the beach and the ocean; she wasn't about to go around announcing how different and quirky she was because she was a "beach girl;" she was just directly descended from the living, breathing embodiment of the waves and hated the cramped feeling beneath the foliage of the island. She liked being able to breathe and have room to move - liked to feel the sand under her paws and be where the wind was. It helped that the island was rimmed with beaches; some had soft sand, some had dunes, and some had hard-packed, well worn and loved shorelines.
That being said and explained, Georgia did want to stay out of the heat for the day. For a child of the sea, she was strangely awful at staying hydrated. The sun only made her symptoms worse - dizzy and tired and nauseous. Logically, she should go search for water, perhaps from the tavern; instead she got sidetracked halfway there. Naturally. A shiny bit of metal caught her eye as she made her way through the undergrowth (which got easier, thank god).
Curious, the girl investigated, batting at the object before deeming it was inanimate. She dragged it out from underneath a fern: a great big metal thing, covered in methodical dents. It was larger than her, and relatively flat on top: a steel drum. Or, more accurately, it's inverted cousin, the handpan.
Georgia's expression lit up. "No way!" She cried, elated. She'd learned to play these! Her father used to carry a much smaller one on him, and taught her to play. He'd said it was how he courted and gained the affections of her mother, though to this day, Georgia couldn't recall if he was joking or not.
"God, it's so much bigger. I wonder if that means the sound is deeper..." She mumbled to herself. The sandy feline bopped one of the dents, and a sweet sound rumbled around in the pan. Giddy, Georgia tapped on another, eliciting a second pleasant noise. "Awesome..." She breathed. Soon enough, she was tapping out the song that her father used to play for her.
[align=center]
[glow=#3e4242,200,600]YOU ARE THE RITE OF MOVEMENT[/glow]
*:・゚✧ — georgia sarris-rosi — demigod of the sea — tags