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 Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 8:33 pm
Alois liked children, he really did, but he was also clueless about how to care for them. While he skillfully masked his embarrassed and awkward feelings, he continued to firmly and protective hold onto Leslie’s hand, determined not to lose the guitar-winged boy to some stranger or other possible danger that could be lurking around Gaia. While the pair silently walked around town—rather unusual, considering the fact that when he first found the boy, both of them drenched in rainwater, he just wouldn’t shut up for some reason—he considered possible places to take the boy.
Years since Alois had last placed himself in the mindset of a child it was difficult to conjure up any entertaining ideas. Boy, he was going to pathetically fail at this parenting business, wasn’t he? He glumly concluded, but after a few more minutes of idle wandering somehow came up with the glorious suggestion of going to the park. Leslie responded rather well to the prospect, and if he was just faking it, Alois was glad for it.
Once the couple passed through the front gates, Alois guided Leslie to the nearest bench. After taking off his violin case and sitting down on the bench, he finally released the boy’s hand to let him explore the area. “Don’t go out of my sight, okay?” he warned Leslie, who offhandedly nodded his head—Alois could tell he wasn’t listening, sigh—and scurried off to a grove of colorful flowers. While the mysterious child went off to frolic with the plants, he silently opened his case and gently eased out his violin.
He propped it against his chin. Testing it out by carefully plucking a few strings, he was satisfied and began to play a few stray notes.
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Posted: Mon Sep 13, 2010 5:50 pm
Aodh and Niven had already been at the park a good hour and a half. The pair spent most of their time outside, and Aodh was glad for it. For so many years he had lived out of his study, alone with his bird and his thoughts. Nature was oddly conducive to writing, he found, perhaps moreso without the screaming children. Alois was clearly not the only parent to find the day pleasant, and many families were scattered across the field. A couple of quiet picnics were being had on spread blankets, but most children were running willy-nilly.
The elder Murray had been spread out on an old comforter, scrawling his newest chapter in a stack of unlined paper. His editor would complain, of course, which would set his publisher on his a**. So much for them. They could deal with his unconventional tactics for the profit h created. If not, he would simply find himself a new publisher. Niven had been off with some older boys who pitied rather than teased, playing a casual game of soccer. A wind had ruffled Aodh's papers, and he had been mildly annoyed, but it was the Frisbee to the back of the head that really ended his work. As wonderful as nature was, the people in it were sometimes less than considerate.
Aodh had lay on the blanket in boredom a while after putting away his papers, not to be deterred. He had noticed a man and his child arrive, drawn by familiar aspects in the young boy. His attention quickly turned to the violin produced, and as the bow was first drawn he stood and approached.
"I don't see many people bring violins to the park," he said, leaning casually over the back of the bench. It was no concern of his whether he was ignored or not. He knew he was being something of a bother.
Niven, meanwhile, had taken off after a stray ball that tumbled into a flower patch. He gave an exasperated huff and began to pick through, trying to mind the plants not already broken. Strangely enough, the ball had found its way toward the winged boy nearby. He waved an arm and grinned at the child.
"Hey!" Of course, he was expecting the boy to toss the ball back. His nub may confuse one not expecting it, though. How, after all, could one catch with a nub?
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Posted: Mon Sep 13, 2010 9:32 pm
After running through a few brief scales Alois would have jumped straight into a simple warm up song, but was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. Startled, his grip on the violin’s neck tightened just so and as he shuddered, just about jumped out of his seat. He had been so focused on his violin he had pretty much tuned the rest of the world out—except Leslie, somewhat, it was vital that he did not lose sight of the child or he would surely be doomed and never find the troublesome rascal again. Ugh.
His expression blank as usual, he adjusted his hold on his instrument. “Ah, yes. It seems not that many people play the violin, and even fewer lack the confidence to play in public,” he minded while scooching over to allow the man to seat himself next to Alois if he chose to. It should be noted that he was careful to say lack the confidence instead of lack the talent. He couldn’t comfortably admit that he was skilled at playing music, but would rather call it the result of zealously doing what he liked for many years. Actually, he was never exactly fond of playing in public, but after days of goading and teasing from Brynn as a child he eventually snapped and began to occasionally play outside whenever he found the chance.
Brynn . . . Gaze downcast and glazed over, he slowly repositioned the stringed instrument. “A shame, since learning to play an instrument is a lovely and joyous experience.”
A colorful sphere softly bouncing against his feet, Leslie turned around to curiously gaze at it. Curiously, he cocked his head to the side and robotically bent down to collect it with both of his hands. He quickly peeked up at the unsuspecting shout. After a second of searching for the owner’s voice he eventually managed to lock onto Niven. Although still just a new reborn, he could still conclude that the other lad was expecting Leslie to throw it back, but . . . he looked down to admire the swirly colors. Hmmm. “Let me play too!” he demanded.
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2010 11:58 am
Aodh happily accepted the half-invitation and sat beside the violinist, hands in his lap. He was a small man with wild hair, and a Scottish brogue to break the heart. Honestly, he was a little intimidated by a man so apparently skilled and lacking in emotion. None of it showed as he smiled and shrugged, looking to the instrument rather than the man.
"I never learned, myself," he admitted, "My mother sent me to a few piano lessons, but I was too absent-minded. My father preferred I not take part in 'effeminate arts'. Imagine his disappointment when I began to write." It was odd, to him, to see someone know offhand just where things went and how they were supposed to sound. It was true, what his mother said. His mind had always been off in 'la-la land' no matter what the situation, and he'd never been able to keep interest in music. Playing music, anyway.
Niven looked from the boy to his playmates, and then back again. Little kids were generally not the best at sports, and while he didn't really mind, he thought the elder boys might. Then again, he imagined that the game was casual enough to allow for a new entrance. Nobody, save the over-competitive brunette with the arm bands, had even been keeping score.
"Sure," he said with a little shrug, approaching to take the soccer ball back. He didn't think the kid would know how to start a game. "Just be careful." He led the child back toward the field, the ball tucked under his nub as he walked.
"So are you a Herald, by any chance?" he asked, smiling down, "I am. I don't think there's a whole lot of us, but I keep running into other ones..."
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Posted: Wed Sep 15, 2010 10:03 pm
Alois nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, my mother signed my sister and myself up for lessons at a really early age. For a while, neither of us particularly enjoyed them very much, but once we got better we started to like it more,” he replied. It appeared as if he would have said more, but stopped himself. Would it be rude if he continued to chatter on and on like this? Chatting with a stranger so casually and closely was unwise, as well. In the end, the student decided to keep his mouth clamped shut.
The pair shared a moment of silence, whether or not it was awkward the younger man did not know, so he continued to fiddle with his violin. He plucked a few more strings and tested a couple notes. “So you’re a writer?” he assumed, gently placing his bow onto the taut strings. While he listened to the man share as much as he wanted about himself, Alois absentmindedly played a song in his head. He went through the notes very carefully, assessing each note, each expression. “How nice, to be able to express yourself so concisely,” he mused.
Leslie stared back at Niven, who took turns looking at Niven and the other boys he was playing with. The boy waited patiently, although evidently enough that patience was wearing quite thin. The guitar herald had little patience and preferred to have quick, blunt answers over long pauses and flowery words. Upon hearing his aloof agreement, he immediately ran forward to join the small group of children. He was noticeably smaller than the rest, but Leslie was clearly undeterred by the thought. “You don’t have to worry,” he reassured, dropping the ball and swiftly kicking it back towards the center to let the game continue.
“A Herald?” repeated Leslie, curiously staring back at him. “What’s that?”
Alois clearly hadn’t bothered to explain things to him.
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Posted: Thu Sep 16, 2010 11:54 am
Aodh was not ignorant to the feeling that the violinist had meant to continue. He waited briefly for the rest to come, and when it did not he filled the silence with his own rambling.
"I find most artists begin at their parents' urging," he shrugged, crossing his arms, "It's very hit-or-miss, though. My parents, they missed. Yours haven't seemed to." He crossed on leg over the other and allowed the silence to begin then. He saw a stray blade of grass on his pants and plucked it off to flick away.
"A-ha. A writer. I'm not sure I'd go that far," he responded then. A writer was, to him, an artist on paper; someone who could boggle the mind and reveal infinite truths in a string of words. He had never gotten that far, in his personal opinion. "I'm an author, yes. Mostly horror; fluff pieces to... freeze the heart, so on and so forth. I've tried delving into more serious literature, but I find they never do as well. With the boy, I have to take fewer chances." He smiled to his companion, unwilling or not, and tilted his head slightly.
"So what of you? Do you play for pay? part of an orchestra, perhaps?"
Niven was glad when his playmates didn't seem upset at his bringing a young boy into the game. He kept his eye on the ball as it flew back into the field, and began to jog back toward the game as the older boys began it. "You can be on my team," he offered as they returned. The boy's questioned waited until the game was back in motion.
"A Herald? A fallen messenger, saved by sacrifice," Niven said as he kicked the ball to the child. The elder boys hung back somewhat, not wanting to get a kid hurt in their game. "That's what I am."
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 8:03 pm
Quietly, Alois listened to Aodh speak, mulling over his own thoughts. When the adult finished he remained silent, instead idly plucking at the taut strings of his violin. After finding the right words he finally answered, “Certain artists do, but others do not. I often speak with a classmate of mine studying art. She first picked up drawing after admiring her friend’s pictures. She’s solely self-taught. Impressive, don’t you think?” Tightening his hold on the violin’s neck he gently placed the bow against the strings and played a rapid series of notes. Although to most people it seemed impressive, Alois was hardly pleased with the result. Instead he stared at the violin with furrowed eyebrows.
“Well . . .” He paused. “An author is still commendable, particularly one who dabbles in various genres.” Figuring that he wouldn’t be finding an opportunity of silence to play anytime soon, he placed the instrument in his lap, carefully stroking the polished wood. “Not for pay, but I do play in an orchestra. I’m afraid I’m not first chair, though. Not yet.” Not yet.
Leslie noticed the boys’ hesitation, but shrugged the thought off. Finding it rather dull to just run with the ball with no one chasing after him, he kicked in towards the goal he guessed was supposed to where he was supposed to head towards. “Okay then.” He agreed with a spacey nod, attempting to discern who was on his team and who was not—other than Niven, of course. “Sure, okay.” Another nod, just as distracted as the last. He didn’t quite get the idea, but played along with it anyways. Perhaps Alois could further explain it to Leslie afterwards. Alois was older. Alois was smarter. Surely he’d know all about Heralds.
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Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 9:41 am
Aodh did not and likely would never consider himself an artist; a creator, perhaps, but not an artist. It didn't strike him that he had begun writing on his own, and that his parents had little say at all in what he had grown to love. In his mind, he was speaking to a far superior rank of human being, and would have felt like he was intruding if he wasn't so interested.
"Impressive indeed," he replied, taking another look around and then up at the sky. Someone who didn't know him may take him as entirely unimpressed, "I think anyone who speaks like you is destined to be great, whether it be first chair or independent artistry. You have my best wishes, I assure you." His lifted gaze turned to something far away that likely only he would find interesting. It was mostly just park, after all. "Don't let me interrupt you. You came to practice. If you don't mind my listening, that is."
An older boy easily intercepted Leslie's kick, and it could be assumed that he was on the other team. Admittedly, it wasn't that easy to see for someone who hadn't been there during the planning stages; there were no "shirts" or "skins", not so close to autumn weather. Niven chased the boy, distracting him well enough for another to steal the ball and gesture to Leslie. Most of the older boys were good with including the younger; making them feel a part.
Niven wasn't totally surprised to hear that his new playmate didn't know about the Heralds. He seemed to be fairly singular in remembering vaguely his work and all of his fall. It seemed that most didn't even understand the act of sacrifice. He felt somewhat alienated in his own group, but what could he do? Maybe some day they'd all remember as well.
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 6:29 pm
Aodh gazed up at the sky and Alois politely followed, curiously admiring the white, spidery wisps of cloud that permeated the sky. “That’s very flattering, Mister . . . ?” He paused, realizing that he had yet to hear the other man’s name. “Pardon me. It seems I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Alois Klein.” He opted to skip the obligatory handshake, since Alois had never been that fond of skinship.
“Not at all, I’m practicing in a park for a reason,” reassured the lad, chuckling as he positioned the violin on his shoulder. His sister’s old composition suddenly taking over his thoughts, Alois began to play the song. It was slow at first, as if he was unsure about the tune and tempo, but then it began to pick up in pace and its quick, cheery notes were soon filling the area.
Hearing the violin music, Leslie curiously turned around to glance at his guardian before returning his focus to the game. Watching the rest of the group eagerly wheedle the ball down the field he hurried after them. Even if the other boys had acted uninviting Leslie wouldn’t have particularly cared. If he wanted to play soccer with them, then he’d played soccer with them. Hmph.
He followed Niven, inquiringly staring at him. “Am I supposed to know?” Leslie asked after a quiet respite. This concept of Heralds was foreign, but also intriguing. Question after question slowly eased into his thoughts. What were they supposed to be? Leslie guessed Heralds had wings, but was that true? How come he knew and Leslie didn’t?
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Posted: Sun Oct 10, 2010 8:26 am
"Murray, if you're into formalities," Aodh smirked, settling down into the bench and looking to the musician again, "Aodh." His name was, of course, pronounced simply like the letter 'A'. It didn't usually tend to go through without question, but he was pleased to see the man begin his music again. He closed his eyes, listening, trying to glean some inspiration from a song he'd never heard.
Strangers were just the best thing for a working mind sometimes.
Niven turned to hear the music as well, the soccer ball sailing past. The elder boys didn't really pay the distracted children any mind. When the younger spoke, the elder just turned. The game was briefly forgotten while Niven listened to the boy's question.
"I guess not. Nobody I talked to remembers falling, so I guess... well, I guess not." He shrugged. Guin knew all about Heralds, but she was all grown up. Maybe something happened when you got older to make you remember.
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Posted: Fri Oct 22, 2010 5:39 pm
“Mr. Murray,” he repeated with a curt nod, opting for the more formal way to address the older man. Alois stared down at his string instrument, intrigued by the writer’s first name. The lad had no clue how to spell it, since it merely sounded like the letter ‘A’. Perhaps the name really did consist of one letter, but he highly doubted it. Rather than continually to mull over the peculiar thought, he brought up his violin to begin his song again before suddenly bringing it back down.
“I’m Alois, by the way. Alois Klein.” Satisfied with his brief introduction, he finally returned back to his music and continued to play the song, picking up where he had left off. The notes were relatively simple at first, but the longer he strung his bow, the more chords and quick technique he incorporated.
Leslie looked back as the rest of the group continued with their game. Although tempted to chase after them, he decided to remain by Niven’s side instead. “Falling? But I’ve never fallen before,” he denied, confusedly blinking at the other Herald as he struggled to recall any memories as a messenger.
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Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2010 6:53 pm
Aodh watched the young man lift and then drop the instrument, curious as to what has caused the pause. He arched a brow and smiled softly, and then accepted Alois' introduction with a polite nod.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sir," he offered, but it was soon buried in music. He made himself comfortable, gaze drifting away as he listened and thought. Quite a bit could be drawn from music, after all.
Niven was still interested in the game, and he stole the ball and began to run with it. Only when he kicked it away again did he respond to the confused boy's question. He could be wrong, of course. There was more than only a single race of white-haired winged children, especially on Gaia. Of course, there was also the chance that he was right.
"You did," he defended, "Or maybe not."
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Posted: Sat Nov 06, 2010 10:56 pm
For the moment Alois decided to not respond, opting to concentrate on his violin instead. Half-lidded, glazed eyes idly stared at the thick strings while his arms naturally moved to song he had countlessly played over and over. Eventually, when he neared the end of the piece and the notes slowed, he focused his gaze on Aodh and silently nodded his head in return. “The feeling is mutual,” he replied as he finished with one, drawling note.
He chased after the ball that Niven kicked away, glancing over at the other boy as he spoke again. Distractedly, Leslie sent the ball sailing again. After watching the others run towards the rolling ball he turned around to face Niven. “So which one is it? Am I a Herald or am I not?” he impatiently demanded. Human? Herald? Something else entirely? The questions were flooding his mind and he cursed the sudden overload of information that just didn’t piece together that well.
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Posted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 11:23 am
Aodh didn't mind the wait, and in fact didn't consider that there was one. He watched Alois play, admiring the fluid, precise movement of his arms and fingers. It took such skill to learn an instrument, especially strings, and yet here the man was performing as if he was born to play. Perhaps he was? As the song continued, Aodh saw brief flashes of inspiration, as he always did: setting, characters, conflicts. He was certain there was something deeper in the reality as well, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He was enraptured by the music until it stopped, and then he only smiled with his head resting on his hand.
"You are an exceptional artist," he commented honestly, "That was beautiful, although I can't say that I recognize the tune."
Niven stopped suddenly and stroked a finger under his chin. He felt as if this boy was a Herald, but how could he really be sure? He shrugged and opened his mouth to give an indecisive answer before an idea struck.
"We can ask," he said. After all, neither of the younger boys were paying much attention to the game at hand. They'd might as well leave it to answer important questions, and come back later to join in again. Niven gave an ambiguous wave to one of the boys, who seemed to understand, and then started back toward his father.
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Posted: Fri Nov 12, 2010 4:12 pm
“Thank you,” Alois replied, though he remained blank-faced as he mutely stared at his violin. Receiving compliments on his playing was always nice, he admitted, but the lad also knew that there were always violinists better than he was—he would never be satisfied with his current skills. He cradled the finely polished instruments. “Not surprised, since my sister composed it,” he added after a few moments of silence. He paused, wondering if he should continue. “It’s a bit rough, but at the time it was very good.”
“Ask Alois?” Leslie confirmed, turning around to glance at the magenta-haired man. He cocked his head and inquisitively staring at the unfamiliar man that sat beside his guardian. Odd, had that stranger always been seated next to Alois? Probably not, but oh well. It was a nice change of pace to find Alois conversing with someone else. The boy had always thought him too quiet for his own good. He glanced at the other boys who constantly scrambled for the ball. Meh. The game wasn’t that exciting anyways.
He walked towards Alois, lightly tugging on Niven’s arm for a brief second to impatiently urge him along. “Alois. Alois!” called out Leslie, the second time sharp and annoyed when he did not react the first time.
“Yes?” replied the startled college student.
“Am I a Herald?” Leslie asked simply, his gaze fixated on Alois as he waited for a prompt answer.
“I---what?”
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