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 Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 10:17 am
The days were growing progressively colder as November came to a dreary end. Somehow the sun didn’t seem as bright, the birds didn’t seem as happy, nor the people as inclined to take their time getting from one place to another—if anyone ever took their time in this city in the first place. Students rushed around campus, their laughter and chatter somehow more subdued than usual as final exams began their quick approach.
Paris’s week had passed in a similar frenzy. There was homework to be done, research to complete, assignments to turn in, studying to do, projects to perfect before their presentation, and tests to take as the end of term drew near. For someone who had had no fondness for school since the days when class had consisted of little more than story time and finger painting, or who hadn’t felt any compulsion to go to college at all until he’d realized it might help him reach his goals, the final few weeks before winter break and the beginning of another semester were turning out to be stressful weeks indeed.
Most days he danced to take the edge off, as dancing had always helped him before, as the discipline of it forced some structure back into an unstructured life. But when the stress came out in his performance, when it began to affect his technique, he knew he needed to find something else, some other way to escape from it all and center himself again.
Music had a way of doing that even when it didn’t involve dancing.
He had a break between classes and he made sure to use it to his advantage, though he had no one to spend it with while Chris was stuck talking to one of his advisors. But he had a set of keys and access to Chris’s car, where occasionally Chris’s guitar could be found—something for Chris to do in the afternoons while waiting for Paris to get out of work. Paris took it with him, found a bench near the campus quad, and sat down to practice while the cool air bit at his cheeks and made him feel numb.
Passable for being newly taught, but not sensation, it was still better therapy than anything else.
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Posted: Sat Dec 01, 2012 2:54 pm
School was important.
It was what Liberty Marie kept telling herself, to avoid being up until two in the morning for something other than her textbook.
School was more important than the civilians that might be dying right now. School was more important than the nightmares, than the fear. The fear she no doubt shared with hundreds of others, tripping their way through life in destiny city. Fear that had been felt by those that kept company in Destiny City Cemetary.
And there was another war, overseas. Another war the average student didn't care about it. Heard about, talked about, and scorned.
I let her die.
School was more important. Sometimes, she had to lock herself in the bathroom stalls and repeat it until the tears stopped. More than one person had begun to worry.
The guitar slung over her shoulder came with her on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today, her knuckles were white as they gripped the strap. Deep breaths.
The quad was always a good place to practice. Someone usually had some comment to make, or, when lucky, joined in with an instrument. Talking distracted her, kept her from thinking. She wondered who would be responsible for telling her family when she finally died.
Going towards the quad had been a good choice. A smile twitched at the edge of her lips.
"I think you're looking for a G-sharp major. Just shift that finger up one fret." Liberty reached out her own index finger and tapped lightly. Her eyes briefly scanned the player, pausing as if trying to figure something out. Like something felt off.
Still, it wasn't polite to stare, so she unshouldered her guitar bag and added, polite, "Can I join you?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 05, 2012 3:43 pm
He shouldn’t be embarrassed.
Paris acknowledged that he wasn’t the best player, nowhere near as good as Chris despite all the practice he’d been getting in. He was still little more than a beginner, really. A rookie, an amateur, not nearly as skilled as some of the others he occasionally saw playing around campus. And that was alright, he thought. Everyone started somewhere. Every skill, ever talent, had an origin in something, had a beginning at some point. There wasn’t any shame in admitting that, or in being corrected when he made a mistake. He’d do better next time. He’d learn.
Yet his face felt just the slightest bit warm as he paused to stare at the girl who’d approached him. Though he told himself he wasn’t blushing—that would be ridiculous, of course; he never blushed—he couldn’t be completely sure his cheeks didn’t fill with the barest trace of color.
He’d just blame it on the cold.
“Thanks,” he said, since that was the polite thing to do. He could at least be polite even if his mind was temporarily numb, struggling to return to the moment after being interrupted. “Uh… yeah… sure.”
Not that he had any clue why she would want to join him. There had to be someone far more talented out there for her to pair with if that was what she intended. Well, he supposed she could just be being nice. People were capable of that, as much as he liked to think otherwise.
“I haven’t really learned very much yet. I… uh… my boyfriend started teaching me, um… earlier this year? Months ago, I guess. I can’t remember. It had to be at the beginning of the year, ‘cause I know I was sick, but… um… so far I haven’t learned much. Just, like, a few things here and there and stuff. I can sort of play Fast Car, maybe.”
And he was rambling. Typical.
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Posted: Sun Dec 09, 2012 1:08 pm
Needing no other permission, Liberty settled herself into the seat next to the individual. Her own carrying case was unzipped, and she brought the instrument into her lap and pulled a pick from between the strings. Between school, work, and patrolling, she hadn't found the time to practice that she'd liked. The callouses on her fingers had suffered, and so Liberty was trying to go easy on her fingers.
"You're doing well," Liberty encouraged. The bright grin on her face showed the honesty in her statement. There was still a small furrow in her brow as she tried to figure out what was so wrong in the situation.
"Fast Car, by Tracy Chapman?" It was the only song titled 'fast car' that she knew. Listening to the lyrics was a bit of a heartbreaker. It reminded her of what her life could be, if she let others run it for her.
It was starting to come together now. The voice, the stronger angle to the jaw. Liberty swallowed. Better concentrate on the guitar, and think out the rest later. Mostly, try not to stare; try not to politely figure it out while looking like a complete jerk.
"Let's give it a try. I don't play that one regularly, so maybe you can help me out a bit." It was a monumental enough song that she knew the sound and the harmony. Finding the right chords was always the tricky part, and further still if her fellow guitar player was doing a finger-pick version.
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Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2012 3:45 pm
“Yeah, it’s, um… kind of my favorite song…” Paris said.
For some reason it seemed a little more embarrassing to admit that to a stranger than it had when he’d shared that information with Chris months and months ago. He didn’t really know why. It wasn’t like it was a terrible song. He was pretty sure most people considered it a good song—a classic—and it wasn’t like she’d sneered at him over it. She clearly knew it and seemed comfortable enough with it to give it a try.
Yet saying something like “yeah, I totally used to stay up at night crying over it” seemed exceptionally lame in a vapid teenager sort of way—didn’t ever teenager have their moments of emo? What made his any different?—and so he didn’t say anything like that at all.
“I, um… yeah, I can try. It’ll just be, uh… kinda slow.”
Honestly, when did he get so lame? Where was that confidence he used to carrying around in spades? He wasn’t supposed to be so awkward around people, but then he didn’t usually like not being good at things. He didn’t demand perfection—not with this, at least—but having more finely developed skills would have made him feel a little more like he actually had something to contribute.
Pushing those thoughts and any lingering insecurities away, Paris placed his fingers in the proper positions and began to play.
Very slowly, and a bit haltingly, but the tune was still recognizable to anyone who knew it.
“You’ve got a fast car…”
He was much more confident in his singing, which he liked to think was pretty sensational and which he’d been told was actually rather good—though he probably didn’t sound at all like Carrie Underwood like he liked to imagine he did. Maybe Miley if he was lucky, but, hey, no one was perfect.
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Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2012 6:18 pm
"I'll follow your pace." The smile on Liberty's face was even, persistent. She was quickly getting the feeling that her guitar-playing companion was still trying to figure out a lot in life, or at least with the guitar.
It made it easier to ignore questions in the back of her mind: Is he transgender, or just dressing in women's clothing? What does he identify with? Is it rude to talk to him about it? Does that make him gay, or. . .
Liberty shook the thoughts off and concentrated instead on picking up the rythymn, considering which chords matched the harmony. There were a few uncomfortable sounding notes from her own hand before she found the tune she was looking for.
The singing, however, she left entirely to the other person. The redhead threw in a hum now and then to catch her own rhythm, but everyone around them would likely agree it was for the best that she did not sing.
Ganymede, though, "Your voice really compliments the song. That's really good." A small laugh, as she was pleasantly impressed.
A pause, then, as she surveyed him. Truthfully, guitar wouldn't have been the instrument she would have guessed him to want to play. Looks, however, were constantly deceiving. Liberty was enjoying how many of her stereotypes were falling apart; it was refreshing. "What made you decide to start playing?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2012 5:05 pm
His face might have colored again in response to the compliment, but Paris was still pretty determined to blame it on the fact that it was chilly outside rather than admitting that he sometimes got embarrassed over the stupidest things. Because, really, after everything he’d ever done in his life, and with how comfortable he was in nearly every other area of his existence, one would think he’d be able to accept a compliment about his singing and guitar playing with more grace than he did.
He did manage to smile, though, which he supposed was a good enough response for now.
“Oh, my boyfriend plays,” he said. “This is his guitar. Sometimes I’d get bored just, like, sitting around the apartment without anything to do. This was before I started school, so I had a lot more free time on my hands, and I had him teach me a bit. I like music and stuff, and I always wanted to learn something, I just… never really had the time to give it a short and practice very much when I was younger. Still don’t, really.”
Hence what he thought was a rather poor performance, though he had to admit the sound of them playing together had been… well, not perfect, but at least it was pleasing to the ear. If he’d been passing by on his way to class and he’d heard something like that he might have spared a glance in that direction and considered the tune.
Though he was pretty sure it was all because of her. Maybe he had the singing down, but it seemed obvious to him that she was the superior player.
“I’m a dancer, so I kinda have to have an ear for music, I guess. Doesn't mean I'm always good at it, but, you know...” he continued. Then when he realized they’d met and played together and he hadn’t even offered his name in introduction, he turned to rectify the issue. “I’m Paris, by the way,” he said.
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2013 7:45 am
"Oh," Liberty breathed out, both her brows raising. "That's a good boyfriend." She was grinning, then, a compliment to her light laugh. One finger sliding along the frets of her guitar, she explained, "I'm not sure I'd let my girlfriend touch my guitar, even if I had one."
It felt weird, to say it. Liberty had always been out, but tried not to be loud about it. Usually, it only came up when she was asked, or if she was trying to be sincere with a girl she liked. With the way Paris easily said the word boyfriend, and seemed comfortable in his outfit, he was either very brave, or the claims of liberal Destiny City were more than true.
Libby's relatives would kindly remind her that the crime rate was also startlingly high, and many of them would insist that there was a connection.
"You dance, too?" There was honest surprise, now. "You know, you might want to consider trying out for one of the school productions." Unless he already was in one! It wouldn't surprise her at this point.
As he offered his name, she extended her hand out to shake his. "Liberty Marie. It's a pleasure."Sunshine Alouette (( My sincerest apologies for such a long delay on this! ))
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 6:11 am
Some days Paris liked to think he was brave. This wasn’t often, but it was often enough to count. Other days he was sure there was some stupidity blended in there; the rest of the time he just didn’t give a s**t. Some people would care—perhaps more than they should—and some people wouldn’t be fazed at all. Even more would likely be somewhere in between the two. It didn’t really matter to him, provided the people who cared didn’t give him s**t for it, though he’d be more than happy to dish some right back if they tried.
He didn’t even bat one of his heavily mascara-ed eyelashes in response, proof positive that he was one of those people it just didn’t faze.
“I just have the most trusting boyfriend ever,” he explained, adding (somewhat under his breath), “and trust me, it isn’t always a good thing.”
Paris didn’t bother to explain. He probably shouldn’t even have said what he did, careful as he was not to make any reference to any part of his powered life when he was living amongst civilians as a civilian, but such an innocent comment could easily be taken to mean something else entirely. His expression and behavior didn’t change at all, so aside from the slight lowering of his voice there wasn’t any indication that he meant something beyond what a normal person would consider normal.
“We’re doing the Nutcracker before Christmas,” he continued, growing more animated as he moved on to talk about his dancing. “Kind of typical, but it’s always exciting when Nutcracker seasons rolls around. And I danced a bit with the Destiny City Ballet last year. The Nutcracker, Giselle, Sleeping Beauty, that classics. It was so awesome. But then I decided to come back to school, so that put that on hold for a while. One day I’ll get back on the professional level. I could now if I wanted to, but I sort of wanted to do the whole college thing instead. Get a degree, prove to myself that I could, things like that.”
He might have sounded somewhat boastful as he spoke, hopefully not so much that he seemed too terribly big-headed, but enough to show that he rather liked talking about himself. He did, however, remember his manners (or something like manners) and took her hand to shake as he rambled on.
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Posted: Sun Mar 03, 2013 1:31 pm
Paris didn't bother to explain, and Liberty did not bother to ask. Though, the statement did strike her as strange, unwarranted, and not really any of her business. Then, Liberty had never been comfortable talking ill of people she did know, let alone those she didn't. Let Paris have his opinions, and hopefully keep them to himself.
"I've never actually gotten a chance to see that," Liberty admitted. Perhaps because it was so typical, she had never had any desire to jump on the chance.
"What degree are you going for?"
A degree, Liberty thought, wasn't a necessary thing. It was perhaps the only collective thought that she and Uuni would have agreed upon--and even then there would have been disagreement over the reasons, merits, and actual beliefs. So many degrees were next to worthless, and many schools all but robbed you of money.
"I have class in about ten minutes, but it was really good to hear you play. Maybe I'll see you around again?"
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Posted: Mon Mar 18, 2013 3:05 pm
“Dance Performance and Dance Education,” Paris replied.
He’d never put much value in a college degree. For the last few years he’d operated under the assumption that he would never go to college. The truth was, he didn’t have to. He could have continued with ballet at the professional level, which tended to be the typical path. A degree certainly wasn’t necessary for what he wanted out of life, nor would it guarantee him anything. In the end, a degree was just a bunch of hours wasted on classes he didn’t really need when he could be dancing instead, and a worthless piece of paper he’d receive at the end of it all.
These days, though, he didn’t think it was so worthless. No, he didn’t need it, but he wanted it. He wanted to prove that he could do it—not for anyone else’s benefit, but his own.
With a smile, Paris nodded and released Liberty from his company.
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, figuring the campus wasn’t so large as to prevent them from ever crossing paths again. “I tend to hang around this area a lot anyway. Thanks for the tips, by the way. I figure it’s always a good idea to get a second opinion, right? Maybe I’ll suck even less next time,” he joked.
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Posted: Tue Mar 26, 2013 9:52 am
Carefully, Liberty's guitar was deposited back in its case. A pick was zipped into one of its side pouches, and the redhead got to her feet.
"You'll definitely be better," was her vote of confidence.
With a smile, she gave him a polite, goodbye wiggle from her fingers. "Good luck with your major!" And then she was off, taking the path as opposed to cutting across one of the campus' lawns to get to her next class.Sunshine Alouette (( Wrap! Thank you for the RP! ))
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