Silvertongue Songfox

Junior Officer: Aide-De-Camp
Urk Expedition Service Badge
(Anyone can join)

The Trenches. It was kind of intimidating seeing such tall buildings. Tight, narrow streets. But none of it bothered Silvertongue. He felt as if he was soaring through the air. His heart swelled in his chest. He felt a song coming on! Well... he was a Songfox after all. Taking his lute, he started to pluck a lively tune as he walked, swaying back and forth and slipping past beasts who walked the busy road. The sound of his music- and the song- would reach it's intended destination far before he would. Silvertongue could throw his voice quite a ways away after all.

Skipping onto the sidewalk, Silvertongue stowed his lute away, taking out his locket and looking at his family portrait.

"Father, if you're listenin', doesn't this just blow your miiiiiiind?" He asked in his sing-songy voice.

"I was on a mission, this is what I'd have left behiiiiiiiind!" He placed the locket back in it's spot around his neck. "I'll miss you everday, but seek a little stranger than usual and you will find-"

Silvertongue walked past a vixen dragging three kits behind her. "Life, beyond all comprehension!"

Then, he walked past a vendor selling those wretched fish sticks. "A mess on multiple occasions!"

Silvertongue looked up at the sky. "A little unconventional, I knoooooooow!"

Silvertongue finally arrived at his destination. A little blacksmith's shop. And there. He could see Swifttail hard at work, lifting some boxes. He felt the warmth in his chest only grow hotter.

"But, Father, I'm hoooooooooome!" He called out, grabbing a pole and swinging about it. "I'm hoooooooome!"

Silvertongue sang out for Swifttail, for anybeast who would hear, for the whole world, for the Empress herself. He didn't care who listened. As his spinning came to a stop, he focused on Swifttail, leaning on the pole. "I'm home~"
 
The faint strains of music reached Swifttail long before the singer did. At first, he barely noticed, head bowed and shoulders tense beneath the weight of the crate in his paws. But as the tune grew louder, winding through the narrow streets, a warmth stirred in his chest. Familiar, almost dangerous in how it made his pulse quicken.

He hefted the crate onto a stack near the forge, brushing sawdust from his tunic as the song came closer still. And then, in the corner of his eye, he caught the bard. Silvertongue, swinging about a pole, voice spilling into every window and doorway as if the whole world were his stage.

Swifttail froze, ears flicking, and quickly glanced about for his employer. No sign. With a furtive breath, he set the crate aside and slipped from the shopfront, his steps lighter now, betraying the grin tugging at his muzzle.

"Silvie!" he blurted at last, tail twitching with contained energy. "It’s great seein’ ye’! What brings ye’ ‘round singin’ like a lark as ye are?"

His voice was bright, eager, though his body still carried that nervous lean, as if half-expecting to be caught slacking, or worse, caught openly welcoming the bard he’d thought of far too often since Urk.
 
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