David
Hearing footfalls once more, the princess looked on toward the entrance of her garden. Raising her hand from Malachite's head, Delsandra offered a bright and kind smile as her guest made their entrance; Erelias Trevarthen. A household name to be sure, especially within the home of the Noteworthy Brotherhood. While this may have been the princess and idol's first time meeting, it was not the first time Delsandra had heard of him. His songs, his way with lyrics; many an Eladrin knew his name and sang to his tune. Watching in amusement as the bard bowed so lowly, Delsandra remained seated, offering no more than a small dip of her head. Erelias' compliments to her beauty were expected, but welcomed regardless. No blush kissed her cheeks, for these were words she had heard time and time again. Nevertheless, the princess thanked her guest.

"I thank you, bard." Was all Delsandra spoke at the moment. Hearing her native tongue however caused a slightly brighter smile to fall upon her painted lips. Opening them once more, she returned a compliment in kind, "It seems you are just as skilled with your silver tongue as you are with your lyre." After a moment of silence, the princess rose from her silver bench and wandered toward the bard. Her dress that draped around her feet almost made it look as though she were floating. The hellyenx that stood beside her soon followed, Malachite making sure to never leave his master's side. Reaching her hand out for Erelias to take, the princess's yellow-orange eyes seemed to burn through the man, almost as if they were looking for ulterior motives to his presence.
.

The look quickly vanished however as the princess waited for Erelias to kiss the rings that adorned her fingers. "I am sure you are aware of the Festival of Sorevelle will be upon us in only two weeks time. Preparations for the festival have already begun but- I've yet to find a suitable individual to perform as the main event. The Brotherhood is filled with options but all that I've summoned have yet to stand out to me." Delsandra's voice fell out of her lips like honey dripping from the comb of a beehive. Each word sounding as though it were more important than the last. Malachite eyed Erelias curiously, then up to the princess. It was almost as if the beast were giving her a look of uncertainty. "I do hope you will not disappoint, dear Erelias Trevarthen." As the bard's name spilled from Delsandra's mouth, her smile slowly faded.
Michelle
A dashing smile never quite seemed to part the bard's lips, he was practised and poised, forever unwilling to disappoint his audience, no matter their predilections. Recovering from the depth of the theatrical bow Erelias pressed the palm of his hand to the centre of his chest. Dipping his head again in gratitude of flattery returned. 

"My lady – you have yet to hear me play – though I have honed the art of flattery, I do believe my play at the Lyre and my musings of song far exceed it." In the flourish of words the Elven man had been both humble and boastful, but one well deserved nonetheless. A great many years any bard needs to hone their art of song and performance, only then may they even consider becoming a part of the Brotherhood. After comes the schmoozing and wooing of the audience, a secondary art to gain purchase of their hearts and solidify oneself as an idol. "However to gain such high praises from you – your Majesty– is the greatest of honours."

Her approach was as expected, the manner in which she gracefully seemed to float towards Erelias was not. Delsandra was the picture of grace, one he imagined her family was tremendously proud of. And so he would not dare tarnish that image, imbuing him with the urge to perform at his very best, would she become his patron in the arts.

** **
Cold digits cupped the hand extended to the undead bard, warm amber gaze locked with those eyes burning of yellow and orange before they would lower. Erelias dipped down again, idle mouth hovering over the appendage before pressing an extended kiss to those rings that adorned her delicate fingers beautifully. His gaze sought to meet hers as she spoke again, finally parting lips from rings and releasing her from cold touch. Another dashing smile decorating his handsome features as he arose once more. 

"I had so hoped your invitation was for the purpose of the festival of Sorevelle. In honour of which I had prepared to sing to you of Elturel–" Erelias spoke gleefully, excited. The fae plane had been a great inspiration to his musings, many of his songs based with the fictional land of Elturel in mind. Many knew Elturel was heavily based on the land from which Thyseer had originally fallen, the home of the Eladrin. The works of fiction that depicted Elturel described a more idealised depiction of the fae plane, they were children's tales that dreamt of 'home'. 

"Would you care to hear it, your Majesty? Or was there another tune you would want to see me perform?"
David
Delsandra quickly noticed the cold fingers of Erelias, something that struck her as strange but nothing more. She did not flinch at their touch of course, but Thyseer was known to be a place of warmth, especially this time of year. The princesses expression did not change until the bard spoke yet again, causing a smile to from once more. His flattery would not aid in Delsandra's choosing for the festival, but it did leave the princess wishing to hear more. When Erelias rose, Delsandra cupped her hands together in front of her before nodding to the bard's words. Most, if not all bards across the lands of Lucidien knew of Sorevelle. It was a festival of song, in celebration of music and the lyricists that create ear worms the people sing for generations to come.

Erelias's mention of Elturel caused a shimmer in the eyes of the princess. Stories her mother had told her as a small child came to mind, as of course Delsandra had never seen the lands from which her people came. It was so long ago, just over 1,500 years that the Eladrin and Thyseer arrived in Lucidien via wild magic portals. The largest the world had ever seen before or after. Since, the Eladrin were known to take precautions for such portals appearing once more. Many lives were lost, Alynthian lives of course. Nevertheless, the look of slight excitement on Delsandra's face was unmistakable. 

"I would love nothing more." Delsandra replied, taking a seat back at her bench as she did so. The princess had a deep desire to see the Eladrin's home plane, but knew it would likely never happen. It was why she enjoyed songs and stories of the Fae plane. Crossing one leg neatly over the other, Delsandra flattened the crimps that had formed in her elegantly decorated dress before casting her eyes back onto the bard. Should Erelias's performance prove to be as magnificent as he had claimed and Delsandra had heard, perhaps the princess had finally found her main event.
Michelle
Though she was regal and poised to a T, not even the Princess of Thyseer was immune to the musings of home. The stories of Elturel had reached even her behind the castle walls. Erelias watched her warmly as she returned to her seat, steadying his breath, soothing the usual nerves as his hands reached for the Lyre. Those cold digits that had but moments earlier held Delsandra's hand tucking the gilded instrument into place. Carting aimlessly across its strings, plucking to test its tune before actually commencing.

"Your Majesty, it is my honour to sing to you of *Home*." Erelias introduced, taking a deep breath as his eyelids encased his gaze briefly. Steadily beginning to pluck at the Lyre's strings with purpose. As light wisps of magic began to materialise from what seemed nothing, swimming through the air like giant dandelion pods seeking to enchant any and all with the bard's musings. Then his eyes opened, and he began to sing. Erelias' voice was clear and warm, resonating like the warmth of the hearth in a place of home.

** **
"*A linno laer o Elturel*
*O eryn, amon, a nen.*
*Anor síla am ífed 'aer*
*A barthed galen dhínen.*
*Sen dhoreb, arthor 'lass uithand,*
*I vardh-i-thelyn vill.*
*Cairtheb cenir, cenir vi anwar.*
*A gwen ú-echedir vuil.*

*A linno laer o Elturel*
*Ir chyth na fenned vain,*
*Pharthed ristannen od thail riss,*
*Vorchaint gleinar edrain.*
*Erio Ududhrochirrim.*
*Ortho vegiledh 'orn.*
*Herio dagor aglareb*
*A hasto i dhaehoth vorn.*

*A linno laer o Elturel*
*Adh ir galan thinna,*
*Oltho nu galad Taduianor*
*Aden i gethaeg tinna.*
*Anlen im galnedif a himwaedh*
*I firir a guru ero.*
*A Eltruel, le linnathof*
*Aden i thûl gwannol.*

** **
As Erelias sang the manifestation of his bardic magic continued to swim through the air, towards Delsandra and her pet. Landing peacefully on their forms and would they be willing, grant them glimpses of 'home' through hallucinations of how Erelias imagined the fae plane to be. Wonderful images of exotic fauna that seemed alien, forest creatures that could only be described as whimsical cousins of Lucidien's own. Listening to the undead bard's song and allowing those enchanting hallucinations in, meant one would be able to wade into those story books of Elturel. If only for a little while.
David
Watching quietly as Erelias readied himself to play, Delsandra took note of each movement the bard made to prepare himself. The little movements to ensure he looked his best, the way he plucked his strings to know his lyre was in tune. It was all quite amusing to the princess, and Erelias was master of the musical craft it would seem. His announcement of the song caused Delsandra to dip her head, then he began. The gentle tune that began was quickly followed by Erelias's voice, one that struck a chord in the heart of Princess Qinrel. The melody and tune sounded bittersweet, a feeling that soon filled Delsandra's mind.

Her mind flew from the courtyard, back to when she was no more than a babe. The sound of a music box filling her ears as her mother magically spun her favorite toys above her head, slowly lulling the baby Delsandra to sleep. Back in the courtyard as Erelias played, tears began to form in the princesses eyes, but she did not allow them to fall just yet. Closing her eyes, the princess allowed the song to engulf her entirely, until light struck her eyelids forcing her eyes open once more. Now, it was as if she were in one of the many fairy tales her mother had read to her as a child. Malachite's eyes widened as well, but he stayed seated as he watched on in curiosity. The fauna that now surrounded them felt alien but familiar all at once. 
.

As the song soon came to an end, so too did the lights that danced around Delsandra. The tears that had formed remained in her eyes, until one finally rolled down her cheek. A smile of fondness and bittersweet memory fell over the princess. This feeling was one she had not felt in quite some time, not even under the watchful eye and fiery passion of her patron god Phoedite. Now that silence filled the courtyard once more, a chuckle of joy left the princesses lips. "Words cannot describe the feelings your song and performance have instilled in my heart. I can see now why the Brotherhood has named you an idol, Erelias Trevarthen." Malachite looked up at Delsandra to see the tear fall to the ground at his paws, and subsequently rested his head upon her lap.

"Oh, I'm alright Malachite, be still." The princess ran her hand over the hellyenx's head before looking back over to the bard. Wiping her eyes and collecting herself, Delsandra cleared her throat, though her smile remained. "If you were to be invited to the festival, what songs do you think you'd perform? The Song of Elturel is beautiful to be sure, but if we have our guests crying the entire time it wouldn't be a festival would it?" Her words were not meant to be rude or disrespectful, simply a way to lighten the air around herself. After all, Erelias had brought the princess to tears with his song.