Gustavain has a rare and strange gift, one that has served him well as a bard and perhaps better as a spy. With a hint of concentration, a room to him is as a piece of music, itself, a sea of harmonies that he has learned, with practice, to read like a book, to know precisely when to lift the mood or quell it, to pull discordant melodies out of even the most stoic of individuals. He reads the hearts of the people in a room, can't understand words like so many others can, but can feel all the same.
He's nowhere near as eloquent in speech as song, he'll never be a diplomat, but he's a canary in a coal mine for tense situations, able to read a situation about to turn south long before it's even properly on it's way there. And, in a place like this, it's almost self-hypnotic, a sea he can float on, pulling his next song from the flow of the crowd, the beat of the hearts around him, moving together for a time.
So the single, warped bit of the tapestry that is a Miqo'te bundle of nerves is something he feels keenly as he settles. It continues, out of sync with the rest of everyone, until he finishes his current set and he cannot help but go speak with the owners for a moment, coming over a few minutes later with a steaming cup of... something that he sets down in front of Mikka.
"Lavender and honey," he says, before he's asked why he's giving a drink to a strange person in a bar. His smile is gentle and he sips at his own mug a moment, "It's good for the throat, but it's also just calming in general," the smile widens a fraction, "You look like you're about to fidget out of your skin." it's probably the poor young man's first battle, from the looks of it. Nothing to be ashamed of. Gustavain has fought enough of them and even he finds himself grateful for the excuse of having to entertain, to keep his mind off of things.
no subject
He's nowhere near as eloquent in speech as song, he'll never be a diplomat, but he's a canary in a coal mine for tense situations, able to read a situation about to turn south long before it's even properly on it's way there. And, in a place like this, it's almost self-hypnotic, a sea he can float on, pulling his next song from the flow of the crowd, the beat of the hearts around him, moving together for a time.
So the single, warped bit of the tapestry that is a Miqo'te bundle of nerves is something he feels keenly as he settles. It continues, out of sync with the rest of everyone, until he finishes his current set and he cannot help but go speak with the owners for a moment, coming over a few minutes later with a steaming cup of... something that he sets down in front of Mikka.
"Lavender and honey," he says, before he's asked why he's giving a drink to a strange person in a bar. His smile is gentle and he sips at his own mug a moment, "It's good for the throat, but it's also just calming in general," the smile widens a fraction, "You look like you're about to fidget out of your skin." it's probably the poor young man's first battle, from the looks of it. Nothing to be ashamed of. Gustavain has fought enough of them and even he finds himself grateful for the excuse of having to entertain, to keep his mind off of things.