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sutepriCough syrup-fueled translation--GO.
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Canzonetta of the Unforgiven | The Songstress | Part 3/5
"It should be starting any time now," Winia said as she gazed out the window at the moon.
Sitting on the bed, sipping the stew that Winia had made to help her cold, Raquel nodded. Incidentally, the Big Bear's meals were prepared on the impromptu stone hearth that Shannon had put together in the garden, in place of the kitchen that was destroyed in the battle a few days ago.
"I wanted to hear them too . . . Shannon's songs," Raquel said in a gentle tone. "He's pretty good, you know. When we were children, he wanted to become a professional musician. When it comes to singing itself, I think he's better than I am, even now."
"Re . . . really?" Winia had not expected that. "But Shannon-san really seemed to hate the idea . . . And Pacifica goes out of her way to say just the things he hates, too."
"Because that's their way of enjoying each other's company. Despite appearances, Pacifica is an oniichan's girl1," Raquel said with a fleeting, wry smile.
"Now that you mention it, that's true . . . Even though Pacifica makes unreasonable demands, even though she puts him down about all kinds of things, Shannon-san grumbles about it but in the end, he never gets sincerely angry, does he?"
I'm . . . a little envious.
Just as she was about to say these words, Winia bit them back.
When it came to people whom Winia could call family, she had only her grandmother. She had lost both of her parents at a very young age, and was raised by her grandparents. She had no siblings. Of course, her grandparents had pampered her to an extraordinary degree (though her grandfather had passed away the previous year).
However, there were times when they went too far in handling her--the orphan who was a memento of their son--with kid gloves. There was too great a difference in their ages, and surely they also felt pity for Winia, who had lost both her parents so young. At any rate, Winia rather suspected that their relationship differed in some way from what the rest of the world called a "family."
Yes. It was just as though they were divided by a single layer of thin cloth.
They could see each other. Hear each other. Even touch each other . . . but only through a veil. There was no immediacy to their interactions whatsoever.
And so Winia was fascinated by Shannon and Pacifica's relationship, which lacked reservedness and solicitude, and which consisted of two egos slamming directly into each other (at least, that was how it seemed to Winia).
"Winia," Raquel said quietly, as though a thought had just struck her--perhaps because Winia had fallen silent. ". . . you never ask questions, do you?"
For a moment, Winia's expression stiffened.
She had questions she would have liked to ask. Many questions.
Just who were they, and why had they left their hometown? Why was Pacifica's life being targeted? Why--
Pacifica. Shannon. Raquel.
Now that she thought of it, Winia knew nothing about them.
But . . .
"I don't need to . . . really," Winia said slowly, as though to persuade herself.
It was not that she did not ask. It was that she could not ask.
There were things she was better off not knowing. Knowing might cost her. Everything she had built up might come tumbling down.
. . . the same as that time.
They were travelers. Someday, they would leave this place. The world in which they lived was different from her own. She understood that. But until then . . .
"I'm very fond of all of you--Pacifica, Shannon-san, and you, Raquel-san . . . I care about you. So I don't need to ask. That's enough for me."
She really did sound just as though she were persuading herself . . . Winia's manner might well be called stubborn, and she smiled rigidly. Raquel gazed at her in silence.
Why am I here?
Feeling somehow keenly aware of the transience of the world, Shannon muttered these words internally.
The Wild Horse was packed to the rafters.
The seats at the tables and the bar were, of course, insufficient, and so there were some people who were sitting on the floor, or else standing and watching from the back. The primary purpose of a tavern's songstress is to liven up the atmosphere, so it was unusual for the attention of every guest to be fixed upon the stage as it was now.
Being the focus of such scrutiny, it seemed likely that one or two people would see through his disguise, but . . . despite Shannon's anxiety, no one in the crowd showed any sign of such a realization. For one reason or another, every one of them had been quite quick to drink, and it seemed their attentiveness had long since been scattered and lost.
Their applause was entirely sporadic, but it swelled magnificently.
While smiling wryly deep down, Shannon had an epiphany.
Most likely, rather than having come to hear Raquel sing . . . they were probably using the pretense of having come to watch Raquel sing her songs as an excuse to carouse. Of course, it was also a fact that Raquel was popular enough to use as such a pretense.
A rite by which they could wipe away all the fatigue and pent-up resentment that accumulated due to their daily lives. They made merry, raised a rumpus, and forgot about yesterday. So that starting tomorrow, they could once again face day after day of work with a fresh state of mind.
Be that as it may.
Shannon located Pacifica in the audience and threw her a look. She knew nothing of his travails . . . No, rather, she knew them well enough, yet even so, Pacifica grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Apparently, she was signaling for him to do his best.
No choice, huh . . .
He sighed once. Then Shannon stepped out onto center stage and lightly strummed the lute. The cheers immediately ceased.
A crushing silence. As though to shake it off, Shannon began to spin his song.
Up high. Down low. The lute rang out airily, combining with his singing voice into a melody that flooded the tavern. That emotive, richly reaching voice delineated a single tale.
. . .
A man, setting out on a journey. A woman, seeing him off.
Only these words left behind: I will come back to you.
Untold seasons pass by the faithfully waiting woman, but the man does not return. The woman wearies of trusting and waiting, and is embraced in the arms of another man. There, she finds happiness.
In the end, after slipping through the fingers of death untold times, the man returns to see an ordinary yet happy family scene.
The man realizes that he no longer has a place there.
Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. Surviving.
And coming home to find that he has nothing left. Not even a place to come home to. Not even his reason for fighting in the first place.
Who is at fault? The woman who stopped believing in him?
Or is it himself, for presuming on her to trust and wait for him?
Still not knowing the answer, the man drags his injured body away and departs.
By the time the woman learns of the return of her former love--by finding the pendant that he dropped--he has already disappeared beyond the horizon.
No one knows the man's whereabouts.
And was the man ever able to find his answer . . . ?
. . .
Lifting a prayer up to the man's vanishing back, Shannon brought the tale to a close.
A glassy stillness.
And then . . . in the next moment, it was shattered to pieces by the applause that flooded the tavern.
Some raised their cups aloft, some pushed their voices to the breaking point in shouting praise, some shed tears, some wore carefree smiles . . . The reactions varied from one person to the next, but everyone was astonished by the talent of this singer--who had been brought in as an emergency stopgap--and there was no mistaking that they were enchanted.
Well . . . this isn't so bad.
Even if the praise was not directed at Shannon himself, but rather at Raquel's voice and appearance.
"Well then, the next song . . ."
With a small, wry smile, he strummed and tuned the lute. Under those expectant gazes, Shannon began to sing once again.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Basically a daddy's girl, just with a big brother instead. Back
Maybe I guessed wrong. Maybe it's TP's Winia who describes Shannon and Pacifica's relationship as hot (though that's even harder to picture than Chris doing so).
[Content Notes]
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Canzonetta of the Unforgiven | The Songstress | Part 3/5
"It should be starting any time now," Winia said as she gazed out the window at the moon.
Sitting on the bed, sipping the stew that Winia had made to help her cold, Raquel nodded. Incidentally, the Big Bear's meals were prepared on the impromptu stone hearth that Shannon had put together in the garden, in place of the kitchen that was destroyed in the battle a few days ago.
"I wanted to hear them too . . . Shannon's songs," Raquel said in a gentle tone. "He's pretty good, you know. When we were children, he wanted to become a professional musician. When it comes to singing itself, I think he's better than I am, even now."
"Re . . . really?" Winia had not expected that. "But Shannon-san really seemed to hate the idea . . . And Pacifica goes out of her way to say just the things he hates, too."
"Because that's their way of enjoying each other's company. Despite appearances, Pacifica is an oniichan's girl1," Raquel said with a fleeting, wry smile.
"Now that you mention it, that's true . . . Even though Pacifica makes unreasonable demands, even though she puts him down about all kinds of things, Shannon-san grumbles about it but in the end, he never gets sincerely angry, does he?"
I'm . . . a little envious.
Just as she was about to say these words, Winia bit them back.
When it came to people whom Winia could call family, she had only her grandmother. She had lost both of her parents at a very young age, and was raised by her grandparents. She had no siblings. Of course, her grandparents had pampered her to an extraordinary degree (though her grandfather had passed away the previous year).
However, there were times when they went too far in handling her--the orphan who was a memento of their son--with kid gloves. There was too great a difference in their ages, and surely they also felt pity for Winia, who had lost both her parents so young. At any rate, Winia rather suspected that their relationship differed in some way from what the rest of the world called a "family."
Yes. It was just as though they were divided by a single layer of thin cloth.
They could see each other. Hear each other. Even touch each other . . . but only through a veil. There was no immediacy to their interactions whatsoever.
And so Winia was fascinated by Shannon and Pacifica's relationship, which lacked reservedness and solicitude, and which consisted of two egos slamming directly into each other (at least, that was how it seemed to Winia).
"Winia," Raquel said quietly, as though a thought had just struck her--perhaps because Winia had fallen silent. ". . . you never ask questions, do you?"
For a moment, Winia's expression stiffened.
She had questions she would have liked to ask. Many questions.
Just who were they, and why had they left their hometown? Why was Pacifica's life being targeted? Why--
Pacifica. Shannon. Raquel.
Now that she thought of it, Winia knew nothing about them.
But . . .
"I don't need to . . . really," Winia said slowly, as though to persuade herself.
It was not that she did not ask. It was that she could not ask.
There were things she was better off not knowing. Knowing might cost her. Everything she had built up might come tumbling down.
. . . the same as that time.
They were travelers. Someday, they would leave this place. The world in which they lived was different from her own. She understood that. But until then . . .
"I'm very fond of all of you--Pacifica, Shannon-san, and you, Raquel-san . . . I care about you. So I don't need to ask. That's enough for me."
She really did sound just as though she were persuading herself . . . Winia's manner might well be called stubborn, and she smiled rigidly. Raquel gazed at her in silence.
Why am I here?
Feeling somehow keenly aware of the transience of the world, Shannon muttered these words internally.
The Wild Horse was packed to the rafters.
The seats at the tables and the bar were, of course, insufficient, and so there were some people who were sitting on the floor, or else standing and watching from the back. The primary purpose of a tavern's songstress is to liven up the atmosphere, so it was unusual for the attention of every guest to be fixed upon the stage as it was now.
Being the focus of such scrutiny, it seemed likely that one or two people would see through his disguise, but . . . despite Shannon's anxiety, no one in the crowd showed any sign of such a realization. For one reason or another, every one of them had been quite quick to drink, and it seemed their attentiveness had long since been scattered and lost.
Their applause was entirely sporadic, but it swelled magnificently.
While smiling wryly deep down, Shannon had an epiphany.
Most likely, rather than having come to hear Raquel sing . . . they were probably using the pretense of having come to watch Raquel sing her songs as an excuse to carouse. Of course, it was also a fact that Raquel was popular enough to use as such a pretense.
A rite by which they could wipe away all the fatigue and pent-up resentment that accumulated due to their daily lives. They made merry, raised a rumpus, and forgot about yesterday. So that starting tomorrow, they could once again face day after day of work with a fresh state of mind.
Be that as it may.
Shannon located Pacifica in the audience and threw her a look. She knew nothing of his travails . . . No, rather, she knew them well enough, yet even so, Pacifica grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Apparently, she was signaling for him to do his best.
No choice, huh . . .
He sighed once. Then Shannon stepped out onto center stage and lightly strummed the lute. The cheers immediately ceased.
A crushing silence. As though to shake it off, Shannon began to spin his song.
Up high. Down low. The lute rang out airily, combining with his singing voice into a melody that flooded the tavern. That emotive, richly reaching voice delineated a single tale.
. . .
A man, setting out on a journey. A woman, seeing him off.
Only these words left behind: I will come back to you.
Untold seasons pass by the faithfully waiting woman, but the man does not return. The woman wearies of trusting and waiting, and is embraced in the arms of another man. There, she finds happiness.
In the end, after slipping through the fingers of death untold times, the man returns to see an ordinary yet happy family scene.
The man realizes that he no longer has a place there.
Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. Surviving.
And coming home to find that he has nothing left. Not even a place to come home to. Not even his reason for fighting in the first place.
Who is at fault? The woman who stopped believing in him?
Or is it himself, for presuming on her to trust and wait for him?
Still not knowing the answer, the man drags his injured body away and departs.
By the time the woman learns of the return of her former love--by finding the pendant that he dropped--he has already disappeared beyond the horizon.
No one knows the man's whereabouts.
And was the man ever able to find his answer . . . ?
. . .
Lifting a prayer up to the man's vanishing back, Shannon brought the tale to a close.
A glassy stillness.
And then . . . in the next moment, it was shattered to pieces by the applause that flooded the tavern.
Some raised their cups aloft, some pushed their voices to the breaking point in shouting praise, some shed tears, some wore carefree smiles . . . The reactions varied from one person to the next, but everyone was astonished by the talent of this singer--who had been brought in as an emergency stopgap--and there was no mistaking that they were enchanted.
Well . . . this isn't so bad.
Even if the praise was not directed at Shannon himself, but rather at Raquel's voice and appearance.
"Well then, the next song . . ."
With a small, wry smile, he strummed and tuned the lute. Under those expectant gazes, Shannon began to sing once again.
---
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) Basically a daddy's girl, just with a big brother instead. Back
Maybe I guessed wrong. Maybe it's TP's Winia who describes Shannon and Pacifica's relationship as hot (though that's even harder to picture than Chris doing so).
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-10 05:09 pm (UTC)Feel better soon(?)
I really like the scene when Winia and Raquel talk and Winia's inner thoughts.
I shouldn't be surprised that Shannon has a good voice! What a melancholy song story. I'm glad Shannon can have another successful career when this ordeal is over :P
no subject
Date: 2011-10-12 05:51 am (UTC)No, I actually do have bit of a cold. Thanks for the well-wishing.
I like that Winia has all these heart-to-heart scenes with the Casull siblings. They peel the layers back one at a time.
Shannon, Raquel, and Kidaf need to start a band. Pacifica can be their manager.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-12 03:04 pm (UTC)Maybe someone need to write an AU about that :)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-13 01:11 pm (UTC)though I greatly appreciate the effects of cough syrupI love the way Sensei seamlessly segues from a small intimately heartfelt scene to crack (next post), using the most natural means.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-13 03:19 pm (UTC)ahahaha, i promise i didn't make up the bit about some random dude grabbing shannon's crotchAgreed. I get why some people find it unpleasantly jarring, but the dramatic shifting in tone is one of my favorite things about Sutepri.