Michael
He drums, the rythm being almost hypnotic, "This one prefers when the night is free of the oppressive glow of the moons." He says, "Khajiit does not mind the glowing bugs, though"
Darrell
Now with his eyes looking down at the earthy ground, Shei only nods in response to Ra'Gharesh. 

He listens to the drum, gliding down to a C minor scale. The lulling lute pattern turns *Ever-so-slightly* Faster, to adjust to the tempo the khajiit leads with. 

Rolling into a musical fugue in his melody, the orc reminisces, as if his heart is moved by the organic tempo. 

Shei thinks of the last time he's played music with a fellow bard, purely for the sake of friendly bonding. It was with a Wood Elf poet, who he misses deeply, and doubts still resides in the Skyrim province. 

A bittersweet lump forms in Shei's throat, to where he swallows it down and grunts, humming again to avoid getting emotional.
Michael
He starts changing the rythm of the drum, going from the *Ba-bum* Of a heartbeat to a more complex rythm, yet still you can feel the heartbeat rythm mixed into it
Darrell
Letting his tusked jaw relax, the orc's humming transforms into soft singing. No words, just a delicate support to the melody and drum pattern, using a chesty voice. 

This evolved pattern the khajiit plays is even *More* Captivating, the sensory indeed hypnotic to the orc. His eyes close, letting his nervous system lap up every lovely resonance that carries surprisingly well in their environment. 

In the back of his head, Shei tries to place this Namiira character that this fluffy drummer follows. The name rings a bell - such as that he *Might* Have read a thematic play or tale about them - but based upon Ra'Gharesh's praise of darkness, the orc now titles Namiira as the Daedra... Of the night and new moons, *Oh*, and of bent dancing, and juicy secrets.

Shei spaces from his thoughts, letting himself be immersed in the music.
Michael
He increases the tempo further, using a pair of sticks that were attached to the side of the drum. The sound almost reminiscent of the drums of war
Darrell
The orc segues his melody's scale to a B minor, as if the lute itself feels a tinge of fear. It takes little time for him to shift from plucking strings to strumming simple chords. 

Shei's phonetics hold onto an air-filled, sustained (ɒ) sound in his vocal presence. He draws each note, his volume seeming to diminish more and more as time goes by, Ra'Gharesh's rhythm taking his complete attention. Stupefied by the sensory, Shei watches' the dro-m'Athra as he pounds his drum with its sticks.
Michael
He continues drumming, bouncing between hitting the rim and the middle of the drum