The hrini: Part II

[Arrenhe tr'Khev 0]

As he continued to sing and play sweetly, his mind unfolded and entered that sacred place where there was no thought, no worries, just the ever changing language of notes, tones and beats. Flying over the strings, his fingers strummed and plucked expertly, sending sweet, angelic notes into the air. Intertwining his voice with the hrini, he let all of the fear, frustration and weariness of the day pass through him in the expression of his music.

 

Finally, his voice trailed off and a chord echoed away as he finished. In the back of his mind, he was pleased by his composition but disgusted by the acoustics in his quarters. He packed up the hrini carefully, and then laid himself down on his rather uncomfortable bed and rested with his hands behind his head as he lingered in the quiet, peaceful state before sleep.

 

As he slipped under, he was content once again, though the reasonable presence in his mind was more than aware that within an hour of wakefulness, he would once again feel stresses tearing him apart as he attempted to perform his duties: to the Empire, and to his family while denying his own wants and needs.