[he does catch the muttered words and he almost has to laugh at it; he's so used to putting up walls and veneers to prevent people from seeing the inner turmoil in him. Morax doesn't know just how true Melqal's comment on Dohalim's loneliness is. he strives for perfection, and was taught from a young age not to show emotions. perhaps he's always been used to putting more than he should on his own shoulders, but Morax does have a point. he just has to wonder when exactly he'll burn out.

there's another short pause, before Dohalim shakes his head]

Just poetry.

[there's a desperate part of him that wants to yell out "music", to tell the other how he adores it more than anything in his life. it pains him every day, not playing his violin, as his fingers yearn to dance along the frets of his violin's neck, to drag that bow along the strings to create that perfect, quivering tone.

but he just can't. so he throws himself in his work instead. because, if he does so, then he doesn't have to think about wanting to play his music again]

Though, I do have an appreciation for other arts, too. Painting is one. To be able to capture life's splendor with splashes of colour on a canvas... It's fascinating. The culinary arts are another. For the rare time I was allowed in the kitchen, I've learned to cook some of the finer delicacies the chefs offer.