Symphony (A Sona Story) Part 1
"Only you can hear me, Summoner.
But really, even the deaf know well the drums of war."
Noise, noise, noise. Conductor was not her favorite station, among so many music makers. She much preferred to play her part, to add a necessary counterpoint or a nuanced crescendo as punctuation within the din. Now, though, her role was to direct. Her allies did not know it; most would never quite appreciate her aid for what it was. But she knew, and would modestly claim to have made beautiful order out of the cacophony she'd been ordered into.
Ahead of her, deep thunderous crashing. A monolith, a monster with a man rumored to be trapped within. He faced off against a monster which was far more forthcoming with its nature. The Baron Narashor writhed and shrieked and thrashed. Splashes from his murky dwelling kicked into the air, more appendages than she bothered to count whipping every which way, cutting through the air in harsh rakes. Occasionally, almost as though by incident, the Baron would strike her ally---he, at least claiming to merely be man locked within monster, replied with his thunderous blows even while tentacles tore again and again at ancient sea swamped metal. The Baron's attacks were less aggressive than they were annoyed, or curious at what was truly within.
Her ally, they called Nautilus. His anchor, they called a weapon. It could not quite land a blow which seemed to matter against the Baron---and when the violent, violet serpent grew tired of swatting away anchor blows, it merely ensnared the maybe-man, metal monster who braved its assault and hurled it at the unoffending cliff face nearby.
This was the sort of dissonance she was present to halt. The splashes, the many limbs, the crashing of metal and wrestling of monster versus monster, this all had an ebb and flow and cadence which was pleasing to those who know well the songs of the world. She would have hated to interrupt it, though she was so often encouraged to insert her own riffs and melodies into the mix. Truly, she could have shifted the song in favor of her ally at any moment, but would much rather have lingered to listen. A smile had silently touched her lips, just before her was lifted by his legs and flung like a toy. This was a clear disruption of their performance, and she frowned. Forced into the role of conductor. Tasked with maintaining order in chaos.
She rolled her eyes, shifting her attention to the still airborne Nautilus. How did such a heavy creature fly so well? He seemed to float, perhaps made weightless by Narashor's incredible strength. Or maybe, the monster which claimed to be a man simply enjoyed the havoc of battle entirely too much to use his anchor to the real, practical use of rendering him relatively immune to being tossed skyward.
A single stroke, drawing the fingers of her left hand lightly along the strings of her Etwahl, dancing them along to skip to desired chords, pressing her right palm to the chord ends and then drawing her left hand back toward her---a beautiful, necessary rise in tempo contained within her swirling magics and then released to her ally with an almost flippant flick of her right hand. The world twisted and danced, between she and the man-who-once-was, sweeping and soaring and coming all together to counteract the brash toss issued by their shared foe.
For just a moment, Nautilus was caught in the air. He waved his slow, lumbering limbs confusingly. The Baron, their target, paused a moment in his thrashing to focus many curious eyes on the metal juggernaut.
"Ah," she thought, pleased. "I have them now. Their rapt attention. Now to create beauty from this ruckus. Order. To my tempo, a symphony!"
A flick of a hand across her strings. The metal man dropped from the sky. The violet serpent roared, Sona smiled, and countered the rush of noise with a staccato reprisal. Left, right, left, right. C, D, C, D. Bursts of sound knocking away tendrils which followed the roar. Her huge ally crashed to ground. Lumbered in two steps--- crash-crash ---like improvised symbols in the wild. He wound up to swing, a perfect rising surge of titanic force. More would fit this change in tone. More , though it be violent and abrupt.
Her hands worked quickly. She closed her eyes, swayed, drew in a breath of pleasure as she played. She did not see her spell accelerate that anchor through the air, inspire her ally to explosive force, but she did not need to. The moment the anchor met that violet hide, the world as a whole found another pause. The thump blotted out all other sound, swallowing the noise of the battle whole, causing a false silence while the clap of thunder rattled her teeth.
Surely, this was a punctuating blow. The end of a mighty creature, an absolutely exquisite end to her most impressive performance...in the past week, or so. Surely, she need only await the resounding applause for a well conducted orchestral work, single handedly woven---surely, this would be her...
The roar was not something she, ever, would have written into one of her songs. It was out of place. Rude, intrusive, and frankly over done. The flecks of spit and...whatever else it was that the Baron produced... were an unnecessary addition. Ground cracking and splintering with no heed at all for the rhythm she'd prepared only moments ago irritated her further---so she was impatient, rather than terrified, as the violet beast pulled itself higher and its emerald eyes came alight with new fury and menace.
Nautilus was caught in the upward eruption, while he was winding down from his blow. He crashed to ground further away even than Sona stood, faceplate first.
"Um. Mmmmmmm. Sona?" His deep thrum of a voice came to her. She'd pursed her lips, and tipped her head to the side slightly in question. She did not respond otherwise. "...maybe." He paused, beat which came with a noise that might have been a deep breath, though he did not breathe. "...we should have waited for Lee. Or. You know. Someone who can get knocked around instead of me."
She half turned to look at him over her shoulder, giving a withering stare. He drew his massive, armored form up, slowly as ever, without even a note from her. Which she rather approved of.
"...fine. I'm going. But if this thing swallows my anchor..."
She huffed, and turned away as he complained. Strummed quick, forceful notes on her Etwahl, and grinned at the loud swear which came from the metal suited dead man when he was suddenly propelled bodily back toward their foe. An additional instrument would work, she decided, for the coming second act. Or else her current ally might die. Either way, the performance would be beautiful.