"The blanket of snow and endless cold can't stop a fire if it's too bold; Warmth ebbs in like night into day, keeping evil and blizzards at bay; Ninja hearts all beating as one, until the promise of hot dawn comes; Wickedness won't prevail tonight, shout loud and proud and keep up the fight...!"
She'd been rapping like this for thirty minutes. Non-stop rhythm and rhyme, played along to the clap of her hands. It gathered quite the crowd—children gawked and giggled at her, while the adults simply lingered by to watch what they deemed free entertainment. Rappa let them bear witness to her craft, though she felt her tongue begin to weigh down with the burden of exhaustion. A ninja can only chant in her lonesome for so long.
She was fortunate, then, to encounter what looked to be a kindred soul in ninjutsu. This man with the coat and snow-hued hair—she could feel in her heart of hearts that he was much like her.
Rappa leapt up to her feet. The crowd around her shifted, turning to the direction which she pointed at.
"White-haired ninja, you must chant with I, our hymns will keep morale high; Come hitherto and dive into the beat, sing your soul's refrain and let the motifs repeat!"
"chant...?" phainon echoes the strange young woman's choice of words with a smile that almost feigns ignorance of her last half hour or so of hard work: a friendly smile, a confused look, and a glance to the children who had gathered around her to listen to her tales told in an assertive, almost commanding verse. he had been listening passively, at the very least --- but her attention pushed towards him with great anticipation encourages his own deflection. "is that what you call what you've been doing? if this is some sort of chant-battle you're looking for... I don't think I have the developed the sort of skills that would help me match your own abilities, but perhaps I could provide a more traditional poem attuned to song from my home."
... and now, as he thinks of where to start, phainon realizes that many of the songs and poems from amphoreus are likely to offend the parents that look on as their children eagerly await the next half of their show. ( probably still better to think of okheman poems than kremnoan, but maybe something from hyperborea or aidonia would be more appropriate for the current cirucmstances... no, those were all too grim, too )...
phainon clears his throat and stands by the fire, and tries to recite words strung into a familiar tune that feels like it most accurately carries on the tone set by the colorful young woman who had captivated the audience for so long.
"oh, I want for no more sweets --- merely a warm home, a place to meet. within my friends may gather by fire, a sing a soft song held by the tune of a lyre..." a deep breath in, then words continue on the next exhale. "the hours of night approach too soon for me, yet all I want is warmth under the light of stars that shine for thee. but should twilight come to take us into an eternal embrace, then..." how did the poem go from there? maybe it was a more grim tune after all... another breath, one that lingers longer as he tries to recall the next line that follows in the tune... "may we meet again with those we hold warm and dear in the next life, the next place."
the little ones gathered by the fire who listen to the song seem almost.. solemn, but his smile returns a moment later to the young lady who'd carried much of the entertainment for the children listening up to this point --- "haha, seems all the chants I know are somber ones: your own poems are far more uplifting, miss, if you wouldn't mind taking over once more."
