The edge of Astarion's humor in his voice is heartening, and Ellie manages a twitch of a smile at the praise, reaching up to scrub one hand across her face before re-aligning herself, settling the instrument across her lap and her back to the wall, letting her hand fall down to gently stroke Astarion's hair back from his ear.
She keeps her hand there for a few moments, knowing he's not ready to talk, before she goes back to plucking softly at the strings.
The sound of it is restful, sweet, and it hits almost all of the notes of a guitar. It's a bit quieter. While she slowly finds the chords that sound like home, she hums softly under her breath. Glimpses and edges of things, half-formed words that ultimately aren't anything meaningful. White noise, but with character.
The melodies that come out are not structured, but they're echoes of the things she knows, and what she'll learn to do again.
no subject
She keeps her hand there for a few moments, knowing he's not ready to talk, before she goes back to plucking softly at the strings.
The sound of it is restful, sweet, and it hits almost all of the notes of a guitar. It's a bit quieter. While she slowly finds the chords that sound like home, she hums softly under her breath. Glimpses and edges of things, half-formed words that ultimately aren't anything meaningful. White noise, but with character.
The melodies that come out are not structured, but they're echoes of the things she knows, and what she'll learn to do again.