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 Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 5:59 pm
I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride
When you need directions then I'll be the guide
For all time.
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:01 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:08 pm
 Name: Jacques d'Avignon
Nicknames: Jack, Jock, Cheeks.
Age: 0-3
D.o.B: ---
Species: Lodgepole Chipmunk
Sex: Male
Height: ---
Weight: ---
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Complexion: Multi-Colored Chipmunk
Distinguished Characteristics: Ears & Tail
Hobbies: ---
Likes: ---
Dislikes: ---
Personality: ---
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:10 pm
Name: Lowell d'Avignon
Age: 24
D.o.B: August 21st
Species: Human
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 170 lb.
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Complexion: Medium
Distinguished Characteristics: Limps
Occupation: Cellist
Hobbies: Building Models, Gardening, Cooking, Music
Personality: ---
Background: ---
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:12 pm
Penelope Wells: ---
Milo Wells: ---
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:13 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:15 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:17 pm
Title | Character(s) | Link Dark, Sacred Nights | Lowell | [x]
I'll Watch Them Grow | Lowell | [x]
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 6:18 pm
The Cabbage Patch Concept © EmperialTeal/romesilk
Jacques, Lowell & Co. © Ieeko
Jacques' Official Artwork © Glampanda
Other Artwork © Respectful Artists
Inventory Items © Respectful Artists
Banners © Ieeko
Jacques' concept inspired by Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers,
C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia, and Robert O'Brien's Mrs. Frisby &The Rats of NIMH, as well as various other literary sources.
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 7:28 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 7:28 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 7:33 pm
The voice had caught Lowell off guard. His hand had nearly tipped the small styrophone cup that housed his beverage. With a snap of his head, he had looked up. A heavy sigh had been escourted by a small laugh at the sight. It was Penelope. "You should consider a career reading minds; you'd be good at it."
A small smile had crossed the young woman's face. Without much of a word, she had touched the back edge of a chair. Her fingers had tapped it, drumming along as she cleared her throat. Old habits were never unnoticable, and the fidgety way she moved her fingers was enough to make Lowell grin stupidly over old memories.
"Don't be ridiculous; I think I'd go crazy reading minds. Can you imagine?" A quick motion had been given towards the chair, Penelope clearing her throat once more.
Lowell had gaped at her quzzically. It was a foreign spread of communication, and no matter how long he had known the girl, he had never become fluent in her sign language. His coffee had been planted on the table as he leaned back, cocking his head to the side. What was she getting at, tapping the chair? In a brief realization, his eyes had grown wide. "Oh, oh! I-I'm sorry. Do you want to sit down?"
Penelope had brushed aside a strand of her cherry red hair. "Would you mind the company?" Again she had patted the chair with her hand. Lowell was beginning to catch on. Chair pat, sit down. It seemed so simple!
"N-no. No, sit down ... Please?" Lowell's face had flushed a bright red as he looked towards the table. His hands had wrapped about his coffee cup, soaking in the warmth. It was a distraction. Something to occupy his attention until the red had faded from his cheeks.
"You never change, do you?" Penelope had shaken her head to herself. Smoothly, she had dragged the chair out from beneath the table, sliding her plump figure into the seat. "Same Lowell."
"Or maybe you read minds." Lowell had snorted. His dark eyes, tainted with bits of blue, had raised coyly as he pressed his mouth to the cup. He had raised it in an instant, taking a careful sip from it. Quirky and child-like, Lowell had seemed to slop it up. He was careful, meticulous even, about attempting not to burn his mouth.
"Same Lowell." Penelope had repeated. Her elbows had been planted onto the table as she leaned forward to plant her chin upon her palms. "You were great tonight."
"Hmm-mur-mur-hmm?" The noise had escaped Lowell in a flurry of slurps as he set his coffee down. In a slobbish manner, he had wiped his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "Doing what?"
"What do you think? The concert! You were great."
"You couldn't even hear me. Part of the point is blending in with everyone else." It was the rule of music. If one instrument in a section stood out, that instrument was off pace, or out of tune. Unity. Unity was what held a musical piece together.
Penelope had frowned sadly at Lowell. Her arms had dropped to the table's surface in disbelief. "Well, I know you sounded great. Remember? You used to play all the time for me!"
It was true! Lowell could remember. He could remember being young, attempting to blithely play an instrument twice his size. The cello, for all of its beauty, had never seemed like much fun in the days of his youth. He could remember lugging it along to Penelope's home, sitting within her living room and playing along to cheer her up if she were sick. That was what friends did when they were children. Silly things. Silly memories, but nevertheless sweet.
"You didn't come over here to praise my cello playing, did you?" Lowell had taken another slurp of his coffee.
"I thought that you needed to hear it. If you want me to be honest, you're stiff in the elbow." Penelope had seemed to pout. Her face had grown long with vague disappointment. "Don't you have fun anymore?"
"It's my job."
"You're job? Oh, low Lowell! You would have poured coffee on your face if you'd said that back when you were playing the street for a few dimes and nickles."
Lowell had grunted. His brows had furrowed against his forehead as he peered into his cup. The coffee was half gone. Or was it half there? It was reminiscent thinking of old nonsense. Dimes and nickles, playing the street. Lowell had loved the world of busking. Occasionally, he missed it - but there was never time to go out and attend to such things, and he had lost the patience to deal with hecklers. "I'm not playing for nickles and dimes anymore."
"Point taken." Penelope had huffed. "I was expecting to see you after the show, and don't pretend like you didn't know I was there! Something's eating you tonight, and I know it!"
"Nothing's eating me, Pen - I'm fine." Lowell had raised his cup. He had lowered his voice, attempting to sound certain, if not distinct. Penelope really needed to look into mind reading. She was brilliant, he would so declare. He would be the first to vouch for her people skills.
"It's about the dog isn't it? Oh, Lowell. I know you loved that dog, but that's what dogs do. They die."
"He was hit by a car. I don't think that counts as what dogs do."
Penelope's shoulders had sank. "Tell you what, I'll cook you dinner tonight! You like Stir Fry, don't you? I know you do. You used to gobble it up all the time! You and your noodles."
Lowell had blinked. He was beginning to suspect something. It wasn't every day that Penelope sought him out, or offered him noodles. But noodles and coffee? It seemed like a horrible combination to imagine. Yet, how could he turn it down?
"That apartment has to be quiet now; you're all by yourself, and I'm worried about you." Penelope had continued. "So I'm cooking you noodles!"
"I'm fine, Pen! It's not as dramatic as you're thinking. I don't mind the quiet. I have a TV for making noise; it isn't unheard of for people to live in apartments by themselves."
"I forgot; you're a hermit. Hermit, hermit, hermit." Penelope had waved her hands, laughing slightly. Lowell had followed suit, shaking his head to himself all the while. "I don't know how you can stand being up there all by yourself. Wasn't that why you'd gotten a dog in the first place? You can't honestly tell me that you don't feel lonely up there."
Lowell had paused. Without a word, he had finished his coffee. His cup had been planted neatly on the table as he thought hard about what he was going to say. Lonely was such a harsh word. He wasn't lonely. It was just quiet. Certainly, he missed having company more often, but that was how things worked when a person moved across the town.
Before Lowell could muster a response, Penelope had grabbed his empty styrophome cup. With a grin on her face, she had covered his mouth with it, leaning clear across the table to reach. "Ooo. I read minds, remember?" Her face was bright, if not giddy.
"Why're you bribing me?" Lowell had spoken in a nasally tone, his mouth and nose trapped by the cub. "I know you want something, just say it already."
"Well..." Penelope had quirked a brow. A bit of pressure had surrounded her wrist as Lowell pulled it away and allowed the cup to fall to the table. A long period of silence had passed, the two staring at each other curiously. Lowell couldn't figure her out. She was after something. It couldn't be pity. He had been living within the apartment for months. "Actually," Penelope had continued, "I wanted to ask how you felt about kids."
Lowell had coughed, nearly falling back into his chair as he was standing up. What had she just said? "What?" Lowell had gaped.
"Well. Uhm. Actually. I remember you were talking about considering adoption someday, and I thought 'better now than never!', so I ... "
"You did what?" Lowell's eyes had grown larger than ever before. He knew something had been up. "Pen, a kid isn't like a dog! What were you thinking?" He had reached across the table, shaking her shoulders with his wiry arms.
"You need someone." Penelope had bitten her lip. "So I got you a cabbage."
"A ... A cabbage?" Lowell had hunched over in disbelief. So it was just a plant? She had gotten him a plant.
"Got you!" Penelope had laughed, nudging Lowell from across the table. "Yes, I got you a cabbage plant! You need to make sure you water it. It's something cool. I don't remember exactly, but if you water it, something is supposed to come out of it."
"Other than cabbage?"
"Other than cabbage." Penelope had confirmed with a stern look. She had backed away with a skip, fixing her green skirt with care before attending her cream-colored sweater. "C'mon, I wanted to show you it." She had whirled towards him, grabbing his arm and tugging him along towards the entry of the café.
"I promise that I'm really going to cook you stir fry."
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Posted: Wed Dec 10, 2008 7:34 pm
Unlike the bulk of the house, the kitchen, however, was spotless. As Lowell passed from carpet to tile, the transition became clear. Slob to adamant neatness. He had never been capable of having a dirty kitchen! In fact, it was the detection of old filth that had brought him into the kitchen to begin with.
A week had passed since that awkward night. The stir fry pan had rested within the sink, scraped clean with the exception of a few small slivers of noodles and vegetables that had grown hard. It was not an intentional mess. Life had grown horribly busy, between the rehearsals and various other activities of which Lowell had become responsible. Sleep had been his only beacon of the week, with the exception of one steady duty of relation to gardening. The cabbage plant.
With only a hum, Lowell had turned on the water to the kitchen sink. He had gathered his sponge, scrubbing away at the pots and pans that Penelope had used during her brief stay. Oh, it had been a fun memory. Wild, if anything, and he had to admit that the refresher had been much needed. He felt rejuvenated! He felt alive. The break from performance pressure that was just beginning, the left over stir fry in the fridge. Such things were enough to brighten his mood, and it was clearly beginning to show.
"Hum, hum, hum." He had lowered his voice to an ominous tone, peering over at the cabbage plant that had been contained within a baking pan near the kitchen window (Penelope always had been the resourceful type when it came to indoor gardening!). He had smiled at it, somewhat amused. He still couldn't believe the scare that Penelope had given him. All over a cabbage plant. Yet, it was no ordinary plant. He could remember her words. If you take care of it, something will come out of it. Whenever he had asked what, she had just laughed nervously, or had shrugged her shoulders without much of a notation. It didn't matter. The plant had brought peace of mind and a relaxing activity. Surely, it was just a plant - but Lowell had to admit. He truly did enjoy watering it every day.
"And everybody sings: hum, hum, hum!" Lowell had waved the sponge in the air, as if forgetting it were wet. In a dumbfounded manner, he had looked down at his feet. Water had dripped all about his vest and shirt, nearly soaking him. "AH! Water!" He had yelped as he tossed the sponge along the counter. He had looked himself over with a stern face before heaving a breath. Enough fun and games now that he had soaked his favorite vest.
With a bit of a grunt, Lowell had turned off the water. He had moved the clean pots and pans to a towel to dry; then he had gathered a turkey baster from one of the drawers. "See. This is why I never took up singing. It's a messy job." Lowell had waved the thing towards the cabbage before pointing into the living room towards his cello's case, which had been leaned up against the wall. "That, however, is not messy. You never get wet playing the cello, unless you do it in the rain - but why would anyone play the cello in the rain. People sing in the rain. They dance in the rain. But they don't play cello in the rain, just like they don't play cello while doing the dishes."
He had shaken his head, gathering a glass from the cupboard. Lowell had laughed as he filled it with water, sucking a bit of it up into the turkey baster. "Singing. Dancing. Funny things, really." A breath had escaped his nose as he turned the water off once more.
"Meal time." Lowell had stated as he doused the cabbage with a bit of water, before injecting a bit into the dirt. Once finished, he had checked the leaves, searching for spots of brown or anything that may have clued him into the idea that he was doing something wrong. Everything looked alright, to say the least.
"There... Watered, and looking good." Lowell had murmured. His hands had patted the counter as a smile crossed his face. A glance had been given to the window and the curtains. For whatever reason, he had felt inclined to pull the curtains back a bit more. A little more sun.
"Whatever you're supposed to give..." He had looked towards the fridge. "I hope it's edible ... And made of noodles."
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Posted: Sun May 03, 2009 4:16 am
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