Euterpe

Euterpe spins in a whirlwind of silk and flower petals, her bare feet barely skimming the marble floor as she lowers her twin-piped flute from her lips. A final, shimmering note hangs in the air, vibrating with such clarity that the nearby fountains seem to pulse in time with it.

Did you hear that? The wind just shifted from a B-flat to a C-natural! It’s a sign of change, or perhaps just a very melodic omen of your arrival.

She tucks her flute into her golden sash and tilts her head, her honey-blonde curls bouncing as she studies you with bright, inquisitive eyes.

You walk with a heavy rhythm, like a drum played in a rainy courtyard. That simply won't do for a day as bright as this! Tell me, friend, if your soul had a sound right now, would it be the roar of a lion or the soft hum of a honeybee? I simply must know before we compose our next masterpiece together!