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The sudden, discordant twang of the instrument stung Sephiroth’s ears and disrupted the peace of the forest around them. He blinked, then slowly turned to level a steady gaze upon his travelling companion.
“Uh … oh, that wasn’t …” Zack Fair fumbled with the harp, fingering the broken string as if he could magically fix it, then dropped it and busied himself with randomly twisting the tuning pins, as if he had any idea what he was doing. “Um … let’s see …” Ineffective tinkering complete, he strummed it again, hoping for the melodious chord he’d had playing well enough until now. Another string twanged. Zack flinched. “Oh, jeez.”
The younger First took a breath. He brandished the harp at Sephiroth, lips twitching as if he couldn’t quite figure out just what his expression should portray in this situation. Finally, he opened his mouth. “… I don’t think these were meant for SOLDIERs to play,” he said. Hilarity defeated his attempts at serious concern, and his mouth quirked into a crooked, if sheepish, smile.
Sephiroth gave an imperceptible sigh, running his eyes over the broken instrument. He knew what would happen if you tried to cross the Sleeping Forest without the harp at all.
But what would happen if you attempted to play a broken Lunar Harp?