A bard at the Dancing Moon

An average morning at the Dancing Moon Theater, the moon elf known as Amatria comes out from the building, wearing a simple, dark blue dress. With her she has her flute, always in her belt, but what's new is that she carries a drum as well under one arm. She sits on the benches by the bridge so she has a view to who arrives to the grounds with the boat, and the Temple of Love and Beauty across the river, to her left.
She starts playing the drum, she brought, experimenting with the different beats.

Mark wakes up and yawns, as usual he eats his breakfast while going outside for a walk around the Dancing Moon, he listens to the drum and decides to take a look, smiling when he sees Amatria. He then walks to sit next to her offering an apple and talking with her about the drum and the rhythm. If Aly is over by her camp he would invite her over.

"Oh, thank you," she smiles slightly at him as she accepts the apple.
She gladly discusses the drum playing with him, asking for his oppinion on the different rhythms and beats.

Off by the river, Nicrozael slowly lowers his body in a push up. His head is perfectly held, his strong arms bearing the brunt of his weight. Slowly he repeats until he sweats. Removing his bandanna and clothes, he steps into the river and quietly swims.

If Nicrozael is anywhere that can be seen from the benches, she waves at him with a smile.

Having spent the night at the theater, Jin took the time to practice in the morning. Seventeen postures was really a misnomer, Jin decided. As there were some twenty different sequences his old teacher taught him. He was sure he'd have enemies watching him, but these forms were designed to hide things. Refined over some thousand years, the old Man had said. Jin didn't know about that, but he agreed there was more to them than what they looked like.

And then he heard the drums.

There was so much life here. So much. People just moving about, being people. Oblivious of the danger around them, or not caring. How could they mingle like that . . . knowing that at any moment any of them them might just . . . draw a dagger and someone would be dead. Promises broken, marriage vows ignored, so much vile and loathing . . . but they smiled.

And the drums beat on. Jin gave a sigh and, perhaps unconsciously, started moving again to the rhythm.