CHANNILLO

Bane and the Violin
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Sweat trickled down his spine to gather at his lower back but he kept playing. He could smell food cooking behind him and the scent of flowers in the air. He could sense the warm air blowing over the exposed skin of his arms, his face, and tickling through his hair. The press of a lot of Mage’s cores made him feel a little uncomfortable but he would get used to it.

All he could see were the backs of his eyelids, not fully black because of the light in his face but he didn’t mind. He didn’t need to see to do what he did. It was second nature, the movement of his fingers, his hands, and the slight sway of his body.

Music surrounded him, blasting over the light murmur of the people complimenting him and the little clinks of coins hitting coins as they were tossed into th...

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