Editing Nerina/Story

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|s1_title  = Stars at Just the Right Warmth
|s1_reward = 100
|s1_text   = The soft sound of currents breaking into tiny bubbles filled the space around her, and Nerina knew she was no longer alone in the coral grove.

"What are you looking at?"<br>
"The stars."

The sky was always above, and the stars could be seen even from the ocean floor. When night fell, Nerina watched their "starlight" shimmer across the waves.

Orange like the sun, yet not as vast or as daunting. She thought with relief that maybe the stars, of all things, were just the right warmth.

"Those are human torches." Her companion said and turned away.
The soft hem of their garment swayed in the water, and the waves in the wake of their departure bobbed Nerina up and down. Even so, she kept her gaze upward, watching as the "starlight" drifted closer, then slowly away again.<br>
"Tor... ches." The word lingered in Nerina's mind like a melody, yet she couldn't form its shape. <i>What are toches? And what do they sound like...?</i><br>
Her companion had already left the grove, leaving only a trail of bubbles behind. The bubbles carried a message, urging her on:<br>
"Hurry. You'll be late for class."

<i>It's not my fault that composition is so boring.</i> Nerina plucked at the lyre strings while spacing out. Nobody really wanted to be there for the dull lesson.<br>
A coral pointer struck her lyre, breaking her out of her reverie. Seeing the teacher about to puff up like a frustrated balloon, Nerina quickly raised her hand to rejoin the orchestra's melody &mdash; a tedious, solemn, and weighty piece as slow as a sea turtle.

All raised hands in the classroom, then descended onto the strings in gentle, graceful arcs. Sometimes pausing for a second, other times much longer, long enough for a tiny planula to mature into a massive coral. Only after such an agonizingly long wait would the next note of the section slowly emerge.<br>
This was the same section where Nerina almost passed out from holding her breath during the previous rehearsal. And when the next note finally came, she nearly drowned herself again with deep, deperate inhales.

She refused to move her hand again, because she couldn't fathom the meaning behind the piece. Maybe it was about an old sea turtle taking a stroll, or even the lives of seahorses, who were often motionless between the corals. In any case, it certainly wasn't a hymn that praised and celebrated the gift of joy from the Ocean God, as her teacher had claimed.

"Nerina!" The teacher glided over. "What in the waters are you thinking about?"<br>
"I'm thinking... is this what music is supposed to sound like?"<br>
"What do you mean 'is supposed to sound like'? What are you trying to say?" The teacher swelled up another size, rolling furiously around Nerina. "Of COURSE this is what music sounds like!"<br>
"But it's so slow and silent."<br>
"Isn't that exactly how the ocean is?"<br>
"And it sounds so... cold."<br>
"The seawater IS cold!"<br>
Ah... Nerina supposed her teacher had a fair point.

Icy-cold seawater births icy-cold music. Then... where does one find warm, rich, and delightful music?<br>
Nerina tilted her head upward once again, at the sky forever above. When night fell, starlight would shimmer on the waves. Orange "stars," swaying like tiny little suns.<br>
The music she was looking for was on land.
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