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"Ah." Jovus raised his hands as he entered the music room. "Occupied. My apologies. I wasn't expecting that." There was an increasing number of musicians on the team, but they still generally left the room to him. Not that Inadas was known for their courtesy.
"No, I was hoping you'd come." Inadas did another small adjustment to their instrument, a bowed string lyre-like thing that he'd never caught the name of. Their shirt and trousers matched today; Neve had helped dress them. "You were playing something yesterday. Teach it to me."
Jovus leaned against the door frame and laughed. "Not even a 'please'?"
They didn't look up at him, their attention on the strings. "Everything is better in groups. Especially music. You were homesick."
"That's quite an assumption. I was just playing music."
"Sure." Though there was no emphasis in the word, it felt weighted.
Jovus shifted. "Fine. A bit."
They glanced up and he thought he caught a flash of a grin before they looked back down again. "I liked it, whatever it was," they said. "It might feel better if you weren't the only one playing it."
"I'm persuaded." They seemed to think they needed to pull out all the stops with him. He was much more easy-going than that.
He stepped into the room and towards the well-maintained harpsichord. The unfamiliar magic of the place kept the keys polished, the strings tuned, the notes pure. An eerie, timeless glow filtered through the windows in the imitation of a soft afternoon light, as if purpose-built for nostalgia.
From the stack of papers on the instrument, he pulled out the relevant notation and passed it towards Inadas. "I reconstructed it in Thedosian notation. For fun."
They held it stiffly, then handed it back. "I can't read this."
"Oh? You play by ear?" Jovus set it on the music stand instead.
"Mostly. Dalish have notation but it's... eh." They shrugged, leaving it unclear if they'd never learned or if it was never used.
"It's not an easy piece."
"I heard." Inadas finally fully straightened and set the instrument against their knee, ready. "I can play you what I remember."
Jovus motioned to them and crossed a leg over his knee to listen.
They played the refrain, or some loose recollection of it, which was a good sign. The song took the listener through a few variations of it but they had grasped the core concept, and that would go a long way. Their playing was confident; even in the places where it was wrong, it was with purpose and emotion.
When they finished, he nodded. "That's most of it."
"What's it about? The song?" they asked.
"Depends on who you ask. It's a common tune for heroics. A few epics match it."
Inadas smiled genuinely this time. It was a strange look, a little like clay stretched too far, the skin of their cheeks crackling. "So we could write lyrics for any one of us."
Jovus chuckled. "Can't go to Davrin's head about it, though."
The two of them laughed.
Inadas nodded their chin towards him. "First part."
He settled on the bench and played a few experimental notes. Assured that the nature of the harpsichord had not changed overnight, he launched into the song's first segment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Inadas try to match their fingers to what they were hearing, their gaze locked into the middle distance.
When he was done, he glanced over at them.
"Again," they said, and posed as if ready to follow along.
With their strings, they followed along admirably, though a few notes fell off. He did not need to tell them; they caught it, expression twitching briefly in disapproval.
They ran through it again, better. Then again, best.
The next parts went easier, the attitude of the song now familiar to Inadas. Jovus had known a few who learned music by ear but it was not quite so focused as Inadas' practice.
They took a short break between the fourth and final segments. The afternoon light had not budged, insisting on the nostalgia.
"You're not half-bad," he acknowledged.
"I know." They couldn't resist another clay grin.
"Do you do other arts? Or only music?"
Inadas was already shaking their head. "Just music. It makes sense. I can hear it clearly. The paintings, the sculptures, they mean nothing to me. Music is --" They sat straight in their stool, instrument in their lap, gaze once again locked in the middle-distance. "It's like I can hear something else, sometimes. Another song. It mediates."
Jovus frowned.
Their distant expression broke and they looked back at him, dark-eyed gaze its usual flatness. "We've got a bit to go."
He decided the odd expression was not his business.
The final part of the song went almost smoothly. To his surprise, Inadas motioned for them to go from the top immediately, and so they did.
It went... medium. Notes did not always match, the direction of the song diverting here and there as Inadas' instincts pulled at them to do something Dalish as opposed to something Cyrodiilic. They redirected purposefully, landing back into the song quickly. They were practiced, prepared for the strange.
When they were done, Inadas motioned for them to begin again immediately.
The second time was better.
Jovus caught himself playing less with purpose and more with memory. He thought of fields of wheat, blooms of alkanet flower, the song of nirnroot beneath their buoyant melody. The walls of Skingrad rose on the inside of his eyelids. He could taste the wines and smell the fields. He'd prowled those fields often enough.
The song was meant for a hero but for a moment it was empty, devoid of one. The hero had been seized, taken away. His playing slowed, and so did Inadas, the stretch of the notes becoming mournful.
Then Inadas pressed, quick once again. He had no choice but to follow.
The hero was not stolen but simply transposed, affixed to where he was needed most.
Together, Jovus and Inadas adjusted their pace and climbed up, quick and light, excited, proud. The hero would win, of course, in a bright shower of eager notes.
Then they were done, the end of the song upon him. He blinked, surprised to find his eyes were not quite leaking, but wet. He cleared his throat and busied himself with adjusting the notation papers.
"We should write something up and get Davrin to sing," they suggested.
Jovus scoffed automatically. "Davrin's not keen on me."
"He might be if you did this together."
"Careful," he warned, "someone might think you cared."
"We all care." They seemed satisfied with the day's work, carefully stowing their instrument into its case.
"What's that called, anyway?" he asked.
"It's a sulaminal. It sounds a lot like a voice, if played right. Legend says we used it to confuse humans preying on clans."
Though there was no emphasis once again, Jovus had the impression that Inadas had indeed actively used the instrument for that purpose.
He liked Inadas, and they liked him, though they gave each other grief about it. To be both hunter and hunted -- it was familiar to them both in various ways. That they were both annoying musicians, too, was a fluke of the gods.
"Thank you," they said once their sulaminal was packed. "I do think we should have some lyrics for it. You should write something."
He sighed. The pressure was immense, of course. One single elf demanding lyrics from him? How could he deny?
Jovus waved a hand. "I'll think of something."
"It can't be just about Emmrich."
He scoffed. "You just want it to be about Neve."
Inadas slapped a hand over their chest. "What an accusation," they said flatly. "I could never have imagined." They winked.
"I'll... try," he sighed. "It's something new, at least."
They picked up the case and left the music room without further discussion or goodbye.
Jovus looked at the harpsichord. Then over at the pile of cheese the Caretaker had yet to migrate. Then to the door where Inadas had left. He frowned. The strange light of the Fade felt uncannily like a Cyrodillic sunset. He wanted it back, but not really. He wanted to be back, but not really.
He wanted the songs, but not really.
When Jovus leaned his elbows on the keys, they gave a protesting honk. He pulled away quickly with a growl.
Well, if he was going to sing about the team, he might as well do Davrin first and get him out of the way.