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 Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2011 4:35 pm
In spite of herself, Thrush found she had to work to keep a smile from showing on her face. He was just so weird! Instead she remained stern, shaking her head. "No, your name will suffice." A glance at Partridge revealed that he was still...coping with Twiddle's presence, and she wondered for a moment what she could do to ease him out of his funk. She tried to catch his eye, give him an encouraging glance. "I'll sing this one."
Meadowlark, fly your way down
I hold a cornucopia and a golden crown
For you to wear upon your fleeced down
Oh meadowlark, sing to me.
Hummingbird, just let me die
Inside the broken ovals of your olive eyes
I do believe you gave it your best try
Oh hummingbird, sing to me.
She had a nice voice. Not powerful, or resonant - she didn't sing enough to possess that sort of charisma - but nice. Clean and quiet. Once finished, she seemed to bundle herself up like a little bird, sitting and fluffing up her coat.
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Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2011 4:47 pm
He found himself almost lulled to sleep by the simplicity of the tune. Music calms the beast, Twiddle found himself thinking idly as he blinked awake, the song ended and floating off on the non-existant wind.
Beat. He sat up a little straighter, less hang-dog looking.
"Thank you," he told the female with a nod, not bothered that they had not given names in return; there was worse information than a moniker. "Where did you two learn how to sing?" He had to know what mysterious way of learning they had followed to acquire the knowledge to form song and rhythm into a cohesive piece.
It clearly had power.
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Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2011 5:33 pm
Clickclickclick click click . . . click . . . click . . . . . . click . . . . . . . . click . . . Ssshhhhhhhh.
That was an accurate phonetical portrayal of what went through Partridge's mind at the thought Thrush can sing.
It took a pawful of seconds for him to recollect himself. It seemed obvious now! A fellow singer would of course have known "Barbry-Allen", and the bird coloring, and how at ease he was with her (much like he had been with Dove and Aleutian Ballad, who both sang), and . . . and - !
It didn't matter to Par that maybe Thrush's voice wasn't exquisite and honey to the ears and all manner of ice-melting goodness. It was enough just to hear that voice take on a new tone, a new song that he had not heard before. He couldn't help but stare owlishly, bewildered and awed all at once.
Who was Thrush? It occured to him that he never asked.
The Twiddle thing asked something of them, and his eyes, like nails in the wood, were hardpressed to be pried off his even more appreciated friend. "Born with it," he answered lamely, which couldn't cover even half the trouble his ability had caused him.
But currently he just didn't even know what to say.
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Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2011 3:42 pm
Thrush looked...a little bit put off at the look Par was giving her. She had sung a song - who couldn't sing? - because it had been asked of them, not because she'd wanted to stage a big, dramatic reveal. Really, anything that involved scrutiny was a situation Thrush would have leaped through hoops to avoid. And yet, here they were. Her ear twisted as she smiled (well, grimaced) and avoided Partridge's eyes. "I just...I think most wolves just pick it up from listening," she informed Twiddle conscientiously, too distracted to be concerned or even mildly interested that the wolf had to had singing explained to him.
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Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2011 6:18 pm
To both their answers he nodded, appreciative. "I have never listened and thus never learned," Twiddle explained. "But . . . I must think about this. I believe I want to learn."
Not for intellectual purposes, but . . . for personal purposes. The lone blinked, caught off guard that he could have such a thing as "personal purposes". Or personal anything for that matter.
Without prelude he stood up and stretched a little. His paws were still throbbing from the journey, but he felt as if this conversation had fulfilled its purpose, and that he needed to leave before he caused further discomfort to the pair.
"Fly free, wingless songbirds," Twiddle told them in farewell, and just like that turned and left. The dragon marking on his back rippled with each step.
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Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2011 6:23 pm
Par blinked owlishly once more. What . . . what was that? No bloody retribution? No hostage situation? No thank you?
Whatever breath the pudgy male held in was suddenly exhaled in a gust of breath of relief. "Oh gods . . ." It was clear Partridge did horribly under any pressure: and apparently a stranger was pressure enough to make him overreact to just about everything.
Such as Thrush singing. Ordinary in hindsight, and yet . . .
He turned to her, swallowing. ". . . I liked your choice," he said meekly, trying a smile. "Sorry for acting like I did."
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Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2011 7:52 pm
Twiddle's abrupt departure, laid alongside his abrupt appearance and off-kilter conversation, left Thrush unable to do more than tilt her head in extreme befuddlement. That was, she thought, perhaps the strangest wolf she had ever experienced. She was stuck thinking on it when Partridge exploded out a breath at her side, and she turned to him with a sharp, quizzical look as he spoke. "That's all right," she consoled him, smiling thinly. There was a sort of...something in the air. Something she didn't even want to think about naming. "And thank you. I didn't quite feel up for something as impressive as Barbry-Allen." At that her smile quirked and started looking genuine. "Where did you learn that song?"
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Posted: Tue Jul 19, 2011 12:45 pm
"Um . . ."
Ssssshhhhhhclick . . . click . . . click . . . . . clickclick . . . . . click click click clickclickclickclickclick -
"From my mom, I think," Partridge answered once his mind had caught up. "She liked singing; I think I got it from her. I got a lot from her."
For some reason, he was incapable of speaking in anything by babied words. Probably to parallel the phrase "baby steps". Cool down, sir, cool down.
"How about you? You should sing more, it was nice."
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Posted: Tue Jul 19, 2011 8:06 pm
Thrush gave him a smile that made her eyes look awfully sad for just a moment, before they twinkled back to life. "I've never liked singing alone," she admitted, taking a few steps before she realized she no longer knew where they were going. "I'd much rather listen, or sing along with someone else." She dropped her eyes, apparently exiting into a thought that was not public.
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 1:41 pm
Apparently Partridge saw this as an opening that never so easily came to him before, and like a desperate man he clung onto it and began shaking it like a prey who was just beginning to go into the throes of ohgodgetmeoutofhere.
"I-I can sing with you if you want," he told Thrush, all but spilling over himself to get her to like him. "And I'll listen, and I-I won't judge you, and we'll make beautiful duets that'll make even birds jealous!"
The crush wasn't all for nothing. Thrush's personality was easy-going, even soothing for a nervous wreck like himself. The singing just, well, tipped the ice cream cone of sudden desire.
"And if you wanna listen, then you'll listen and I-I won't make you do anything else you don't want to. And - And! And we can be traveling minstrels that all of Telk will love."
He swore he sounded more grown up than he probably was.
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 2:22 pm
Thrush listened as Partridge went on, keeping her head averted. Right around the term "beautiful duets" was proposed, she noticed a sick feeling in her belly. She couldn't believe she had let this happen. Partridge was precious to her as a friend, as a neutral party, and she had let that slip away from her, allowed it to evolve into something toxic. Her face slackened, and suddenly it was clear how many years she had on Partridge. When she raised her eyes, there was less gentleness there than one might expect. "Partridge," she said heavily, to cut off any further proposals, "I don't want to sing duets with you. I don't want you to take care of me. I don't want you to love me." Her pale eyes bored into his, merciless; regardless of whether she had any chance of having her funny friend again, this was a tick she had to crush. Either he would move on or he wouldn't, and if he couldn't, then their relationship would be untenable.
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 5:58 pm
8V . . .
That was quite a face Partridge had right now. Almost like someone had painted it on his already kinda painted face.
Like deer in the headlights face, only the light was more like a seething sort of coldness coming directly from Thrush. If his manhood had been getting even a quiver of excitement, at this point it was so shut down that it probably even shrunk. His ego?
Hah.
He just . . . didn't get it. Here he was with a girl who could understand him and, bar the age gap, was probably a perfect match. Here he was offering everything good and sweet and nice that was left within his frayed and fragile little heart, and she was just crushing him without reserve. No ifs, ands, or buts. No "what abouts" or "why nots". Just one big, flat no.
If Partridge had room to emote something beyond complete and utter astonishment, he might have been angry. So far, he was just stuck on that expression of disbelief until his lips worked enough to form one word:
"Why?"
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 6:19 pm
She would likely feel a good deal of remorse later, but for now her eyes held his with a flat, unpleasant gaze, a gaze as grey and hard as agates. "Because it's my decision to make," she snapped back, her voice momentarily barbed with irritation. "Because I don't want to kiss you at all, and I don't want you to kiss me at all. I don't know how I can make this any clearer, Partridge." Her hackles had raised in unease and unrest, and she paced off to the side, feeling her heart hammer and wondering just how to forge ahead from here.
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 12:20 pm
It was official: Life liked to take a s**t on him. Nevermind that this was utterly impulsive and based on loose affections, LIFE JUST LIKED TAKING SHITS ON HIM.
Rather than taking it like a man, though, Par took it like a newborn. He was insistent. "Y-You don't even know if it'll be good," he said rather petulantly. "You're just saying no w-without thinking."
A million no's and a yes still meant yes. His eyes followed her nervous pacings.
"I can be chaste!" he declared. "Lookit me, Thrush; d-does it look like I'm all about sex? Kissing isn't even in my league."
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 2:24 pm
Well...well, that did it. She was not in the market for a lovesick friend, not even if it was just courtly love on the table. Even through the adrenaline, she felt a little pang working its way through her heart. Still, she turned to look at him, her face stony. "This is unacceptable, Par. I have to go." She sounded tired, and awfully sad; she picked a direction and started walking, hoping against hope that Par would just turn around and head back to YMCA.
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