𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Wilbur)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Another day, another interaction. Inka travelled through the forest, following the stream and stealthily listening to the music Wilbur produced from behind the bush. Sticking her head up from the foliage, they made eye contact and coldly, Wilbur looked away. Inka only smiled and tilted her head, "would you like me to leave, Wilbur?" She questioned and watched him put his book on the grass in front of him.

"I need help with this song... I have ideas but I can't put them into words just yet..." he suggested without making it obvious. Inka (a girl void of social cues) waited for a direct answer, leaving them in the tantalising silence of her patience: "would you be able to help me?" Wilbur sighed. Inka slipped through the branches of the bush and sat down by Wilbur, who sat on the stone he always did. Inka read over his ideas with interest - she wasn't very good with words on paper, she didn't have a proper education to read. But eavesdropping for 18 years of her life to other people - generally nobles and highly educated citizens since she had always stayed around the castle walls unknowingly - gave her context clues for what words meant, where they were appropriate and jargons for specialised topics. The one she was interested in the most: music.

"Do you have a melody? What's the rhythm and metre? What's the tonality?" She offered a list for Wilbur to answer, which he wrote down quickly and answered on the paper. She took it and read over it, "E minor... so a minor tonality and a bpm of 123... 4/4 time signature..." she hummed and looked at his notes again as he strummed the progression he made up for the song, "are you comfortable with syncopated rhythms?" She added for the man to nod at.

His notes were bare and sparse, she lay on her stomach and got herself comfortable while looking at what she could be using. Then her attention was brought to everything crossed out. She looked at them, amazing ideas scribbled out from the words she could just about read and understand, simple phrases, "fight the world", "flower fields", "beaches". All of it was sentimentally great in Inka's opinion, she wondered why they were scrapped.

"Wilbur... Why are these words... crossed out?" She asked and pointed to the violent scribbles from when he attempted and failed to fully conceal the phrases.

"Because... I've used them in my other songs... my other songs with her." He grumbled while strumming his instrument. Intently, she looked at them and thought of a range of ideas, they were too profitable to simply just leave out because of a past experience. In fact, so much was scribbled out - he could make a song about it, "what's with the look?" He suddenly implored as she gazed at the paper longingly.

There was no response but she brushed her hand over the writing with interest, and by that point, she was too deep into her own imagination.

A range of ideas, spectrums of colours and moods and how a story could be played with all of his ideas; so broad and easy for interpretation as long as he elaborated appropriately. Better yet, it could be a series of shorter stories stacked onto each other by the fact that a lot of his ideas were leading to the same point. His other love.

"Why do you wish to make this song anyway?" Inka turned to look at Wilbur, who stared back briefly before he himself gazed longingly into the paper.

"I'm stuck deciding whether I want it to be that I can't move on from her, or I'm ready to try for something new." He muttered monotonously and harshly.

"Then why not both?" She suggested an offer, staring back at the paper and resting her head in her hand.

Judging from the silence which returned to her, Inka assumed he was considering it. But the silence reminded her of who he was: a human, and a very frail human he was, unsure of where he was going, thinking of where he could possibly go without someone there with him. He yearned for love so much, she had to appreciate a want so strong it had become a need for the person. Though slightly reluctant, she didn't mind getting to know Wilbur - he would be an interesting experience for certain and with that, came more to learn. She sighed and continued her pondering, as such a pensive individual, she couldn't deny that it was for her own selfish desire that she stuck around with Wilbur. But he was the same; never truly saying he wanted to stay with Inka but not letting her go either. He only invited her with what pride remained after his meltdown the day before.