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"Guydelot, do you have a moment?" Sanson speaks and Guydelot closes his eyes, continuing the soft strokes on his harp.
"Guydelot?" Sanson asks once more and the other expresses a soft 'mm-hm?' as reply, giving him the go-ahead. The Hyur holds his journal tight.
"I've got something to show you." He says and Guydelot shakes his head.
"If I have to stand from here, I'd rather see it later. As you probably have noticed, I am practicing." The Elezen answers and Sanson feels slight annoyance surface up.
"But you're always practicing with your harp! Can't you give me just a second of your time?" He tries being reasonable, but the Elezen won't budge, opting to continue stroking the strings, soft melodies ringing.
"Tell me here, then." Guydelot closes his eyes, voice soft as hums start to come out. Sanson knows this rhythm well, it had been a while since Guydelot had been using it. There were no lyrics, no real reason, but it was the rhythm he kept using when practicing alone. No tavern had been able to witness it, no comrades had heard of it... Sanson himself only noticed because he spent most of his time close to him...
He wouldn't deny that his humming and the way he touched his harp delighted him, it brought him peace. It made him relax and have... Yes, hope.
"You really won't rather we move somewhere else?" Sanson insists and the other's eyes open to glance over at the lancer, irritation showing up.
"What's so bad about this corner? You know I'd rather practice in more secluded spots."
"But this is not as secluded as you might think... The people around can hear your harp. Sure, they probably can't hear your soft humming, but I'm pretty sure even our conversation is audible enough. Wouldn't you want to go someplace else with me? You have my word that you'll be able to practice there and I'll leave you your space once I'm done with what I want to show you."
Guydelot glanced over to him. Sanson had been standing by his side all this time, staring him down, waiting for a chance. The grip on his journal was tighter than ever before and, for once, he didn't have his eyes plastered upon paper, but against his own. He liked that. Maybe, he'd be able to have some more of that if he indulged him. Ah, why not, then? He did like to have the center of attention, and if he could take a chance to practice more privately, he'd take it.
"Fine, then... Lead the way, Sanson." The man said, standing up and saving his harp away. Sanson's eyes lit up and he nodded quickly before rushing out of the corner and into the nearby forest. Surrounded by nature, there was beautiful silence. The chirping of the birds was distant and the sound of a waterfall invited relaxation. They walked on until Sanson found the spot he had been looking for. A well-kept bench more akin to soft chairs below the shade of a tree. The scenery was beautiful, lively but calm. The rustling of the leaves refreshing and constant.
"Here it is. Take a seat and I'll tell you what it is I want your attention for." Sanson invited and, though he seemed eager, Guydelot could sense a looming anxiousness. Was he actually nervous? It was kind of cute, he could see his face flush lightly. Yet, he shifted his attention towards the bench and sat by a corner of it. It was much more comfortable than he had expected. "Nice, isn't it? I had been working on it... for you."
"For me?" Guydelot's eyes widened. It was a gift for him? He wouldn't soon believe the other would make such a gesture for the one he constantly bickered with, but... here he was, having it delivered to him. He could not deny it. "I suppose you have my gratitude. This place is beautiful and quiet, perfect for inspiration to flourish."
"Right? I thought you'd say something along those lines. A-Anyway..." the shorter one grows quiet and Guydelot pays close attention to him and his movements. This wasn't all he wanted to show him, of course, and he was dying to know what it was. Yet, he saw the other one open his precious journal. Knitting his eyebrows, he awaited for an explanation. Was he just going to scribble as usual? No... He was looking for something.
"Don't laugh..." Sanson implored before taking a deep breath, a finger pointing towards the start of the page.
"Our song of hope, she dances on the wind
Higher, O Higher
Ere our... voice endure and resound forever strong
Standing tall, through the dark does our tune go on."
His voice shakes in between each word, his feelings earnest as his expression grows ever red. Yet the way his voice stutters and fails to follow correct tones from time to time is lost on Guydelot, who felt his heart flutter with every word, with his expression of hope... With his song. It was the song he had been playing for a while now, the one he had found no lyrics for. So, baffled, he stared on and Sanson shook his head, trying to shift the coming nervousness, his hands shaking.
"Are you holding your laughter back? If so, I'm grateful... This is all I could muster." The boy says but, immediately after he notices the other start clapping.
"Wonderful! You are so brilliant, Sanson!" Guydelot lets slip and quickly tries to recover. "S-See? Even you can make amazing lyrics if you put your mind to it. This... This is all I needed, exactly what I had been looking for. Somehow, the lyrics just wouldn't come up, I guess I needed someone else's vision to help mine own." Guydelot answers, slowing his claps before taking out his harp.
"We could tweak some things to make it even better... and add more lyrics. Yes, it's all coming to me!" Standing up, he gestured for the other to sit by his side. "Come sit as close to me as you can! Let us brainstorm this immediately. I would have this song completed today."
Hearing the acceptance of the other, his praise, seeing the way his eyes shone bright with inspiration, creativity and interest all pouring out caused Sanson's heart to warm up, happiness to swell. This was how the other showed his gratitude, his affection, in a way. Having him close, hearing him so determined, so happy with the lyrics he had worked day and night to perfect, to pitch him, was worth all of the effort.
They'd spent all day and night, sharing ideas back and forth until the only thing left was the closing.
""That its chorus might ring for all.""