"It is a dance," Javert nodded, his lips tight. He scooped a paltry smear of confiture onto his bread. "As all the physical arts resemble, when done well. A trick of anticipating and matching the opponent's beat. I understand!"
Javert did have musical talent in him; he simply felt himself unsuited to formal schooling about it. His flavor of music was far more rustic, far less refined. His was the music of the jailhouse, the music of a rickety guitar or a ukulele cradled across the breast of a colorfully-garmented Romani wanderer. The music of the bawdy taverns, the tums of which he could hum and murmur to this day, though he was a frequent observer and rarely a participant of the merriment.
With patience and perseverance, Ariadne would come to learn this about her dreary new acquaintance. Another time!
He met her matter-of-factness with a curl of his brow. He has calmed considerably with the shift in conversation, though the weariness and heaviness about his eyes lingers, the badge burning a hole in his pocket.
"Drumming is popular because it lulls the novices into simplicity. It is limiting, potentially, for the lot," he remarked slowly. "You beat a drum, they think, and that is all there is! A thought, if I may, Mademoiselle. You might tell them to take on two disciplines for practical application. Marry the beat with a tune, follow the rhythm with foot and fist. Do you work with dancers, or strictly fighters?"
no subject
Javert did have musical talent in him; he simply felt himself unsuited to formal schooling about it. His flavor of music was far more rustic, far less refined. His was the music of the jailhouse, the music of a rickety guitar or a ukulele cradled across the breast of a colorfully-garmented Romani wanderer. The music of the bawdy taverns, the tums of which he could hum and murmur to this day, though he was a frequent observer and rarely a participant of the merriment.
With patience and perseverance, Ariadne would come to learn this about her dreary new acquaintance. Another time!
He met her matter-of-factness with a curl of his brow. He has calmed considerably with the shift in conversation, though the weariness and heaviness about his eyes lingers, the badge burning a hole in his pocket.
"Drumming is popular because it lulls the novices into simplicity. It is limiting, potentially, for the lot," he remarked slowly. "You beat a drum, they think, and that is all there is! A thought, if I may, Mademoiselle. You might tell them to take on two disciplines for practical application. Marry the beat with a tune, follow the rhythm with foot and fist. Do you work with dancers, or strictly fighters?"