Ahn-Bo’s words pulled from Jin a warm blush as their shoulders bumped. He smiled despite himself, tucking his chin into his chest, and shook his head as if to dismiss them. Sometimes he still found it difficult to believe that Ahn-Bo-ah found him so handsome when he, himself, was the most perfect. But Jin wasn’t complaining. It was nice to hear and he’d happily sit for his friend to admire all day.
As he made for a distraction from both himself and the song he was writing (probably about Ahn-Bo-ah if he thought about it now), Jin played the Arirang bridge a few times. The notes were round and delicate but powerful; they didn’t sit idly as they thrummed through the room and filled space. He smiled as his friend answered and gave a small nod. “I didn’t think so,” he hummed. Then, in an uncharacteristic sharing of information about his life before (not that Ahn-Bo-ah knew that there was a before) Jin placed both hands on the keys and said: “I don’t remember the original very well but my Eomeoni used to sing it to my yeodongsaeng when I was younger.”
He began to play it in earnest and the rich sounds echoed off the shoji doors and floated out through the thin paper into the halls. Jin had learned the full version from a sheet Cha-ssi shared from her home last year. It was one of his favorite songs, even if it reminded him of a sad past he’d willingly left behind. It was the only positive memory he had of his mother and sister before he left.
“Arirang, arirang, arariyo... Arirang gogaero neomeoganda,” he started quietly. It was a short piece but Jin played it all the way through, singing the lyrics softly between them. When he finished, he turned to Ahn-Bo-ah with a soft, if melancholic little smile on his face. “It’s one of my favorites,” he admitted. “Even if it’s a bit sad.”
As he made for a distraction from both himself and the song he was writing (probably about Ahn-Bo-ah if he thought about it now), Jin played the Arirang bridge a few times. The notes were round and delicate but powerful; they didn’t sit idly as they thrummed through the room and filled space. He smiled as his friend answered and gave a small nod. “I didn’t think so,” he hummed. Then, in an uncharacteristic sharing of information about his life before (not that Ahn-Bo-ah knew that there was a before) Jin placed both hands on the keys and said: “I don’t remember the original very well but my Eomeoni used to sing it to my yeodongsaeng when I was younger.”
He began to play it in earnest and the rich sounds echoed off the shoji doors and floated out through the thin paper into the halls. Jin had learned the full version from a sheet Cha-ssi shared from her home last year. It was one of his favorite songs, even if it reminded him of a sad past he’d willingly left behind. It was the only positive memory he had of his mother and sister before he left.
“Arirang, arirang, arariyo... Arirang gogaero neomeoganda,” he started quietly. It was a short piece but Jin played it all the way through, singing the lyrics softly between them. When he finished, he turned to Ahn-Bo-ah with a soft, if melancholic little smile on his face. “It’s one of my favorites,” he admitted. “Even if it’s a bit sad.”
Ahn-Bo Jeong & muse song
* eomeoni = mother (formal) • yeodongsaeng = baby sister • lyrics and translation here
* eomeoni = mother (formal) • yeodongsaeng = baby sister • lyrics and translation here
![[Image: HjIYkam.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HjIYkam.png)
* Jin takes potions and enchantments at times to give his voice a persuasive quality.
His performances, or even a simple conversation, can sometimes suggest thoughts
and ideas to his audiences.