Nightingale rolled once more onto her back, and looked at Gideon upside down. She was a fidgety girl. "Have you tried singing a lot? Or did someone tell you a long time ago that you were no good? I hate when that happens 'cause it ruins your self-esteem forever and it takes a lot of work and devotion to conquer those feelings." She said, speaking quite rapidly until the end. "Papa is the best singer I've ever known, and he taught me all that he could. I love singing. I love the arts too. I'm more of a sculptor and jeweler than drawer or painter though." Nightingale said, rolling onto her stomach.
"I was born an Alto, but Papa taught me how to sing Soprano if needed. It's really tough but it's doable. You seem like a tenor. Are you a tenor or baritone?" She asked, her voice and eyes shining with an eager excitement. It was obvious she too loved the arts. "I'm gunna fit in well here." She then purred, reaching out and poking Gideon. "I remember a few songs from my old life. Want me to sing them to you or would you rather read me poetry?"
Gideon squirmed away from her poking. He was rather ticklish, and real smile split his face. "Hey, Don't poke me!" He laughed.
"No, It's nothing like that. I just don't like to show off my voice very much. when I do sing, I'm a tenor." He sat up and folded his knees so as that he sat on his legs. Gideon's Bright eyes seemed to burn with interest. "How about you sing me a song, and I'll recite a poem for you?" He poked her side now in return. Just in good fun.
Nightingale rolled so that she was on her back and her head lay in Gideon's lap. It wasn't her infatuation that drove her to be so close, Nightingale just acted as if everyone was one of her pets, and she could cuddle up to them whichever way she wished. "Do you want me to sing a Soprano song or an Alto song?" She then asked, her bright lavender eyes swirling up at him. "I could do both: One after and one before your poetry." She said, a small smile gracing her lips. She wiggled herself further into his lap. "I'm glad you're awake now." She said, reaching up and poking his chin. "I like tenors. They've such lovely voices. Baritones always seem to sound either absolutely menacing or awesome gentle. Too much of a difference if you ask me." She said, drawing her light finger down his cheek and flicking it off his chin. She was way too comfortable.
Gideon had no problem being lounged upon, but a light blush grazed his cheeks when Nightingale began to poke at his face. Although Gideon was rather handsome, not many girls were ever this close to him. He smiled at NIght, getting slightly lost in her swirling eyes. They reminded him of flags twirling in a parade.
"I suppose you should start with a Soprano..." Gideon said. "You can save the best for last?"
"Oh, my dear." Nightingale said with a light giggle. "I can do whatever you want me to." She winked at him and sat up. She stood quickly and started to pace around on her tiptoes, like a gymnist on a balance beam. "Let's see..." She said, spinning like a ballerina and looking to the sky. Eventually, she stopped moving, and in her place of restful standing she put her hand behind her back and began to sing. She closed her eyes and let her very talented, very trained and seemingly expert voice soar into the crisp night. It was not exactly a soprano's call, but it was a soft song, that seemed to be accompanied by a mystical music, far off in the background.
"6:30 winter morn
Snow keeps falling, silent dawn
A rose by any other name
Eva leaves her Swanbrook home"
As she sang, her fingertip began to light up, and with her voice there was suddenly an orchestra of strings playing along beside her, like a ghostly duet. The blue from her fingertips leaked into the air and seemed to swirl into sudden notes, and disappear.
"A kindest heart which always made
Me ashamed of my own.
She walks alone but not without her name..."
Chapter 8
Start from the beginning
