Broken Melodies

On a beach that no organization squabbled over or faction called home. It was a place that was decidedly neutral and all the quieter for it. No sounds of troops sauntering on or people frightened to leave home. It was, however, a beautiful place with a lagoon of crystal clear water. Parents and children were at play on this beach. Sandcastles are being made, and fathers are buried in the warm sands. As one goes along the beach, a lighthouse stands proudly in the distance—a red and white pattern down its side. Along the beach is an old-style gazebo, built of treated wood and raised on a brick foundation. A pleasant sound emerges from the structure and carries down the beach. A violin is being played, a tune that tells a story is being played.

The figure playing is a man wearing a white shawl that comes down to his waist. His blond hair is cut short and well-kept. His clothing looks average as his eyes remain closed. Those with a spiritual sense will be able to sense the man's origins. He is doing nothing to conceal these as he renders his musical performance. His status and age are forgotten among the chords of his violin. His desire was for more places like this on earth. Places not yet tarnished by war or the ones who brought it.

So people could enjoy music and other activities without concern. In these recent times, far too often has the drums taken entire countries and cities. Jefferson City, Brazil, Malaysia, Australia, and so many others. He was tired of this fighting and political sabotage game played by everyone.

Thus he came here to relax and watch what a country could be. This was a dream, maybe not his, as he loved nature. But this could be if everyone stopped fighting wars and instead selected champions. Ghislain's fingers moved along his violin skillfully. He could play many instruments; the violin was a favored one. But the Piano was another he found great joy in composing from. Bass Guitars were also a fun diversion from the world.

Ghislain's Song

His bow ceased the fluid movements after reaching a crescendo. His eyes had been closed, absorbed in the moments of it. Slowly they opened pools of azure like the sky. His hands were gentle as he set the violin to rest on a velvet piece of equipment. His lips pulled upwards into a soft smile as he answered. "True, the performance would have been better if not for it. But the world does make one's mind wander. ", He said, sighing softly as his gaze looked over the man carefully. He didn't believe danger came from him as he brought his shawl down. Resting it gently next to his violin. The man's name was Rose, a wandering musician perhaps one of great skill clearly.

"I will take you up on the inclination Rose; my name is Ghislain." He said before taking a seat, his eyes wandering towards the water. His mind had wandered during the performance. Not something he was often known for doing. When Ghislain performed, it was always focused on the music. The production of a sound that could move people. A traveler like himself had come to this beach. Did he seek answers or perhaps merely a place devoid of the noise.

One could pencil back wars and reactionary attacks from the organizations—Inami's word on changing it and ending it. Those were what interested Quincy, who, despite appearances, was over 1000 years old. Fighting hadn't saved the Roman Empire, so what would the Kokuryuteshi do differently. Sing had been amicable to him when he'd come to her seeking a ceasefire of Hulderic's folly.

"So what does my fellow traveler seek on his long winding road?"

His lips contained a slight smile to them; indeed, that could skew a note. The world only entered his mind due to Inami. He'd long since taken himself away from that stage. Going deep into the wilderness of Alaska and remaining hidden. A few random Quincy would find him on occasion, perhaps a wandering Hollow. Nothing worth disturbing his peace.

"Ah, I know that well, I found a place in Alaska that was very quiet and peaceful." Ghislain mused on the surroundings he'd found himself in Alaska. Verdant wilderness with nary a person to disturb you. Music was able to be played in line with nature. What it lacked in many people, it made up with the quality of them. Ghislain had found himself a peaceful abode before Inami came.

"If I'm honest, what spurred me into this action was a proposal." He said, his smile fading as his mind wrapped around it again. He played music to relax and walk from the world woes. It was why Inami and anyone else seeking him had to work for it. Ghislain didn't seek attention or some significant role. This orchestra that the world was in had been off-key for a long time.

"I had taken great pains to stay among that lush wilderness and enjoy my music and other lifely pleasures. But an opportunity to end this cycle of war, political manipulation and make a lasting difference. That drew my interest, I'm old and have seen tyrants rise and fall like those waves." Ghislain admitted, his gaze shifting to the water.

The children and people enjoying clean water without signs of pollution. "I've played witness to many Organizations playing similar roles and fates. It was the first I heard of anyone tackling the problem preventing a peaceful place like this. " " Ghislain shrugged his shoulders slightly, giving a smile. It was of no import; he'd signed up and agreed to this action. The only course was to witness the resolve of Inami and Sing.

"You must have seen some interesting sights on your journey. Please play the part of the bard and tell these people and me of your journey."

Alaska had been good to him; it was a rural escape from it all. He smiled at the question of breaking things. Deciding to answer with something gained from his lifetime. "There are many ways to break things, records, and other means. If force worked many Empires would remain." He said before having to admit he was reluctantly good at breaking things. He'd fought many battles in his time and day.

Defeated foes both Shinigami and demonic in nature. But that wasn't the reason he believed in ending that cycle. "I won't deny that I have power in that sense as well, but I don't believe that is the key. If violence were the answer, the path of war would have ended long ago." He said it softly as he mused but let the topic go. His eyes were keen on the crowd and hearing this bard's tale. He picked up his violin, looking at the scene before them.

"A love lost fits this lovely scene unless you are inclined to disagree. I have just the piece of violin music for this occasion..No..perhaps this will be better suited." He rose from his seat, walking towards a piano that sat alone and untouched. He adjusted his clothing before taking a seat.

Classically trained on the piano, Ghislain had little trouble creating a suitable melody. The piece fit the narrative, and while a violin could produce it. The piano's gentle timbers and ivories let him escape. A soft, delicate sound emerged, like a parent holding a child. A warmth came that was clear from each movement as the piece proceeded. His eyes closed for a moment as he felt thoughts vanish. Only existing on his musical moment, letting each note sing a song.

This rapidly turned into a concert; his fingers moved elegantly as each sound sang its requiem to Rose and the crowd.

He listened to the guitar, following the notes before carefully lining them up. Playing in tandem was easy enough. Musical talents like Roses and his own were able to balance this tight rope. Without stepping on one another's toes and lifting each other. His digits played diligently along with the keyboard as the story unfolded and his mind began pondering. A bards tale was it to be that he found something to enjoy? As the tale began to finish, the melody reached its climactic conclusion. "That was an excellent tale Rose, and I imagine those here are richer for it."

Ghislain's fingers finally stopped as he sat for a moment in thought. "I will offer three tales as well to those present for you to select from Rose." Ghislain considered carefully the stories he would share of his life. Divulging them had become easier as he'd aged and become more mature through the years.

"The first is a tale of love and beautiful tragedy, the tale of a survivor, or a tale of discovery. " He said, finally thinking on each tale carefully, each had an ending that was sad yet in a way beautiful. Ghislain didn't reveal much about himself. His hands came to a locket, softly running his fingers along with it. He wore this necklace locket at all times and never removed it. Even when he slept, it was close to his heart as a reminder.

His story was likely to be longer as he considered the melody for the next song. Ghislain could play anything, even a leaf. Musically he could truthfully sing as well; it was just something he'd invested time in. When one lived the life he had, one gained multiple opportunities to study and grow. To learn about things you didn't like about yourself and things you do.

Ghislain likely was older than his concert partner by many years. The curse his power placed on him was a bitter pill. But the man before them likely had lived more lifetimes than most of them. Ghislain considered throwing that tale in, but in a way he already had.