Little Songbird

Things had been better over the weeks following the incident with Deimos. She felt as though they may have actually been growing closer. Ikigai didn't mind being around the man. In fact she found herself craving his presence; his touch. Not only that, she craved his approval and his attention. Iki wanted to please him. She wanted to make the man proud to call her his mate. And so Ikigai did what Ikigai did. She went above and beyond, carrying out her daily duties, but also doing special little things for Deimos such as crafting new, plush cushions for their bed. She would bring special little treats like spiced or honeyed meats and fruits. Iki just wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to be happy with her.

The pale woman had decided that it was time for the bandages to be removed permanently. The wounds were closed enough that they wouldn't become infected and now they needed to breathe. Standing before him, Iki removed the bandages, setting the pile aside as she inspected the wounds. She'd prevented massive scarring, but the telltale lines would always be there to mar the perfection of his fur. Iki dipped her pads into the ointment and put one last, thin coat on the wounds. As she did so, dark ears swiveled to catch Deimos' words. She found herself turning her head to look at the cases holding her instruments. She hadn't played them since her arrival. There was too much going on. Too much responsibility and not enough time for herself.

"I did promise that you'd hear them at some point, didn't I?" The woman released a breathy chuckle, a lazy, happy little smile on her maw. After wiping the remnants of the ointment from her paw, Iki crossed the room and began setting up her koto. The long instrument was heavy, but she'd packed it so that it could slide easily enough out of the case. It took her a few minutes to get everything in order and it took longer still to make sure that the strings were still in tune. Once that was done, she motioned for Deimos to get comfortable.

The woman's toes flexed above the strings. She didn't touch them yet, she was simply preparing, remembering the feel of them beneath her pads. Ikigai was connecting with her instrument. Inhaling deeply, the woman's pallid eyes closed and she began. Delicate digits moved expertly over the strings, eliciting a lovely yet heart wrenching song from the instrument. Ikigai's movements were practiced, honed to perfection. It helped that she loved her koto and had a connection with the strings. The tempo rose into a fever pitch as though some unspoken battle was being waged, then it all came crashing down and the tune took on a new, somber note. This was where the surprise came in.

As she played, Ikigai kept her eyes shut, feeling the music and losing herself in the moment. Once the tune shifted, the woman's obsidian lips parted and she began to sing. As expected, Ikigai had a lovely voice. Haunting, some might say. It was strong and robust when necessary, but it could also be delicate and soft. As all things, she had practiced to attain such perfect pipes. The woman's voice echoed softly within the den and out the door. No doubt others of the pack would hear the music as well. Though she sang in her father's tongue, the emotion would still be there and would be understandable.

When her song ended, Ikigai gently placed both sets of digits over the thrumming strings to silence them. The woman took another deep breath, recovering after singing for so long. Only then did her eyes open and slant upwards to search the face of the man before her. Had he liked it?

"Ikigai"