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| - Cyntia and Quin's first order of business was to find clothing to wear. She had brought with her a bag full of gold, enough to last about a month before they needed more. Soon, however, they would need to earn some kind of living and this weighed lightly in the back of her mind. She had her farming experience from home and her physician's training from the Navy. Perhaps she could work as a medic or horse groomer in town. While learning the streets and all the various shops, Cyntia laughed and enjoyed Quin's constant thinking. They talked, sharing thoughts and gently learning of each other's quirks and what made the other smile. They discovered some differences but in both of them was a willingness to consider another view, and it expanded each of their minds to be more accepting. Their dis
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| abstract
| - Cyntia and Quin's first order of business was to find clothing to wear. She had brought with her a bag full of gold, enough to last about a month before they needed more. Soon, however, they would need to earn some kind of living and this weighed lightly in the back of her mind. She had her farming experience from home and her physician's training from the Navy. Perhaps she could work as a medic or horse groomer in town. While learning the streets and all the various shops, Cyntia laughed and enjoyed Quin's constant thinking. They talked, sharing thoughts and gently learning of each other's quirks and what made the other smile. They discovered some differences but in both of them was a willingness to consider another view, and it expanded each of their minds to be more accepting. Their discussions were endless, it seemed, and she was grateful for the sensation of no end in sight. When they came upon a music shop, Cyntia dragged Quin in by the hand with shining eyes. So caught up in looking at the various instruments for sale, she did not notice that Quin had picked up an acoustic guitar. He sat on a stool and laid it carefully across his leg, hands caressing the bending bow of the wood and the neck with the utmost respect. His entire demeanor was absorbed in getting the feel of the curves and learning the instrument with his eyes closed. Cyntia turned and noticed him then, watching his hands learn and enjoy the instrument, slowly and with expertise. Something gripped deep in her gut watching him, imagining his hands on her like that. She observed his closed his eyes; his face wore a rapt and immersed pleasure. Then his finger pads gently pressed the strings between frets, learning the distance, the tension, the placement of chords. He still had not raised his right hand to strum or pluck. He was breathing in deeply and beginning to feel a rhythm build into his pulse. To watch him pause before beginning to make music was like waiting for the first touch of lips in a new kiss. The sounds emerged, tentative at first, a timid resonance full of uncertainty and question but continuing nonetheless. She could tell he was not new to this, though, for his confidence built with each perfectly pitched note. He began to get a feel for the neck and his fingertips as one, working the chord progressions with ease and memory of a seasoned and talented guitarist. Soon the notes came out clear and even, a plucking style timed to carry you off and forget anything but the harmonies within. Quin's music tugged at her soul, beckoning it to come along, to fly with his fingers as they increased the tension. He toyed with the strings in such a way that made her feel like he was strumming her from within. It touched her dead center where nothing else made sense but wherever he was taking her. Her eyes locked with his, and the moment grew in crescendo. Cyntia was so moved and caught up in the music of Quin that she heard her own voice begin to sing the familiar song, with a sense of elation he was drawing out of her. Quin looked deeply into her then, seeing her reactions to him, and slowed a tiny bit to accommodate her rhythms. Together they soared into a profound experience that separated them from anything else around them. The only truth was right then, his music and her voice blended together as one creation. The slight tremors and emotions in her earthy contralto voice melted him like butter on a humid day, and he flowed with her voice, accenting it, caressing it, raising it and harmonizing so perfectly that it made her ache to be part of such beauty. They complemented each other so exquisitely that it made them both, together, larger and more significant than either could be alone. Others stopped and listened, a hush gathering. Quin and Cyntia had no awareness of anything but their own music, though. It was precisely because of this that it was so very powerful. Goosebumps grew on Cyntia's skin as they finally came to an end. Her eyes remained locked with his, their merging so complete, so meaningful. She read his thoughts then, flushing to see his face mirror the satisfaction she felt, as if they lay together in each other's arms, humming with the afterglow of intensity never before felt. "So this," she thought... fully clothed, "...is what love is." As an added bonus, it seemed they had discovered a means with which to earn a living. The applause for their music gave them both large stupid grins.
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