(Day 3, LE) The Gentle Barbarian (Misa's Room, Closed)

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa sipped at her tea to hide a quiet giggle, realizing they were honest questions, so she was patient as she replied. "That's not easy to explain Butaj, but I will try. Remember that I only said I believed that I was close to it, that one can't really know or not. Also remember that I said enlightenment was seeing a perfect truth with a peaceful understanding. The music Butaj played was like nothing I'd ever heard, and felt from your heart and soul. Any music can be good, but to be enlightening is to show something deeper, which yours did for me. I'm sorting I still make little sense."

[Moto Butaj]

"Now you make perfect sense to Butaj. Butaj knows that he needs to play more to Misa so she can use his music to get that something deeper about her enlightenment. Butaj is more than happy to." He puts the tsur away and takes morin khur. Without further ado, he starts playing, choosing a piece that gets straight to the soul and grips it. When he sings, he gazes straight into her unseeing eyes.

(Song!)

[Tonbo Misa]

No matter how enlightened Misa was, she couldn't feel his eyes on hers, but she could most certainly feel his music. As he looked to her she smiled once more and just remained silent as he went on, making certain she heard every last bit. She only spoke up once more when he finished.

"That was much more like a... mmm, I wish I knew instruments better Butaj-san. I believe it is similar to a kokyuu? It has a long stringed sound, not plucked. You use a bow for it?"

[Moto Butaj]

"Butaj does." He leans over again, presenting the long fiddle for her. "Please, Misa, inspect it yourself. It is okay for you to hold Butaj's instruments if you want to inspect them with your fingers."

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa took Butaj's instrument in her fingers gently and stroked over the fine craftsmanship, being as gentle as she could. There had been one or two back home that had played flutes, but no one she knew played a stringed instrument, so this was all new to her. "It feels very well made. Was this also something that Butaj has that is Moto made? What is it called? And what was that song?"

[Moto Butaj]

Butaj leaves the instrument on her lap and leans back. "It is morin khur, the horsehead fiddle. It is the most traditional of Moto instruments, it's always been with my people. Butaj does not know the title of the song, maybe it has no title. It was something many of us played when we were leaving the Endless Steppes far to the southwest of here. It is a song about leaving behind what you've learned to love deeply and preserving a bit of it in your heart."

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa nodded softly, feeling every inch of the instrument as Butaj spoke. "Does Butaj have things he misses? You seem very happy here, enjoying the new opportunities and so forth, but surely there are places and people no longer with you that are vivid in your memory. Perhaps that is why the song came to you?"

[Moto Butaj]

"Because Butaj tries to be like Lady Shinjo, never where she stands but a pace farther, only sometimes looking back. When we started our return Butaj was not a man yet, and after five years of riding through darkness and losing parents to it what was before feels like someone else's life. Butaj has memories but they shift each time they are called. The boy misses Medinaat as-Salaam, the Great Nahr'umar and the Endless Plains. But each time Butaj recalls them they overlay with what is Butaj's life now. Butaj realises some miss their childhood, when life was simpler, more innocent. Not Butaj. He likes to carry the joy of life forth but leave other things behind, where they belong." He pauses, wondering if he is making any sense. "Butaj remembers through music and all other things ingrained in Butaj, the oral traditions, stories. This way heart remembers more."

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa gave a soft nod, her smile a touch melancholic, yet patient and understanding. "I do not really miss my childhood either Butaj-san. There are moments I recall... spending time with my mother, learning to sing... but so much of my past can only be brightened by the future yet to come. That is in part why I am grateful to find someone like you, who also looks forward with such zeal and determination."

[Moto Butaj]

"What would Misa like for her future?" Butaj wants to reach out somehow. Usually he would do so with a smile, but she can't see it, and touch is risky. So he tries to add more warmth to his voice.

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa kept her tea cup just held in a hand on the table for now, but her other reached out, palm up on the table toward Butaj as she smiled shyly. "If it is not too much trouble, I wish to feel Butaj's hand in my own. It is how I 'see' best, and I think Butaj-san would understand."

[Moto Butaj]

"Butaj understands." He reaches out with both, picks up her small hand and places its back on his open palm, then touches the midst of her palm with the fingertips of the other, brushing them smoothly across. She can curl up hers to do the same to his palm. His hands are larger, just a bit calloused and bearing the marks of strings. The are the opposite of clumsy, however. His fingers seem to be coordinating well for intricacy.

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa's own hands aren't smooth, showing she'd spent a life of some hardship and training. All the same, the one in Butaj's hand was thin and a touch delicate, and she shivered as he traced his finger, flushing softly and murmuring, hiding a bit of her face with her other sleeve. "Oh my... your hands are very warm Butaj-kun... and the hands of an artist."

[Moto Butaj]

Butaj does not fully understand the Rokugani signalling of courtship and intimacy, so for a moment he wonders if the face-hiding is related to spilling tea. The change in how she addresses him rings closer to home, however, and encourages him to speak the truth. "Misa's hands are small and soft, and yet there is strength in them. Butaj likes their touch very much." He draws a circle inside her palm with his fingertip, just because. "Butaj has good fingers to play, true..."

[Tonbo Misa]

Misa giggled silently into her sleeve. It was all she could do to keep still at the softly tickling yet intimate touch. "They are very plain hands, but I am glad you appreciate them. It is so hard going through life with hands that see, yet being too wrapped up in etiquette and politeness to ever touch another with such simple expression..."