milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

It's really kind of a roller-coaster ride, emotionally speaking: happy, depressed. Shocked, ecstatic. Musical, stilted. And through it all runs one thought: why should death be any easier than life? We come here knowing what we know but that shouldn't be all. It shouldn't be. There's more. Even just now, as he played a few tunes on his sax upstairs before setting it down, almost in a state of despair because he loves it too much, if there's any such thing.

He wants to keep on learning. Doing. Loving. Living. And he wonders how much time he has on his clock: Charlie said no one had been here for longer than two years. But musicians are notoriously bad at keeping time if they're not playing; he knows that so very well.

Gren used to have no fear of death, and he still doesn't. But he does have a healthy apprehension for what comes after death.

He takes a seat at the bar, but he doesn't order food and he doesn't order drink. He just takes it all in, thinking that it just might be a good idea to meet more people. At least that will distract him from his philosophizing -- something he's never been very good at.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Stella is in the bar looking to meet more people as well. She'd woken up that morning and for the first time in such a long time, did not have to take any medicine. She thought it would make her happy, but all she found herself thinking about was the brother who had died to get it for her. She missed him.

So, she'd gone into the bar to try and distract herself by meeting someone new. It didnt' take her long to spot the man who looked to be people watching. He wasn't doing anything else, so she assumed that was what he was up to. She approached him and smiled quietly, wondering if perhaps he was lonely too. "Hi, I'm Stella. Do you mind some company?"

He looks down at her -- she's so tiny -- and gives her a little smile. "Hi, Stella. I'm Gren, and company would be wonderful. Let me know if you want the full introduction." Gren pulls out the bar stool next to him. "Make yourself comfortable. Want a drink or anything?"

"A tea would be nice. Wonderful to meet you Gren. A full intro might be helpful, I think with this place it is a must." She says as she takes the offered seat. Tonight her usual teasing smile is only half strength.

"What would we do without them. I'll go first." He sits up a little taller, making himself just a bit more formal. "Hello. I'm Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckener, but you can call me Gren, late of Blue Crow on Callisto -- one of Jupiter's moons -- and 2071. And I don't know what kind of tea you'd like, but I drink Callisto Blue and if you've never tried it, well, it's really, really good. Can I offer you a cup of that?"

Stella stares at Gren blankly for a moment before breaking into a bright smile. "That's a lovely name. I'm Stella Bonnaro, from the middle of nowhere on Venus, 2071. And Callisto Blue would be lovely, I haven't had it for awhile." She can't keep the grin away now, she's quite happy to have met someone from her.. time? World? Universe? However that is put in Milliways.

"Really?" He reaches out and takes her hand into his. "Venus? Wow. You're from hot, and I'm from cold, and bar, two cups of Callisto Blue, lightly sweetened and..." He shakes his head, a little bit amazed. "Small universe."

She can't help the blush as he takes her hand, and notice how warm it is. Her grin is back in full force as she chuckles, "Looks like it. Hm.. seems we're alike oppisits. That's kind of strange. So, what did you do on Callisto?"

The bar gives them two cups of tea; Gren hands one to Stella. "I played sax at a bar five nights a week. What'd you do on Venus?"

He still can't believe there's someone else from his time that he didn't know to start with. It's almost unbelievable, but here she is.

And really, he's only leaving out a few minor details. They hardly seem important right now.

Wow...She leans forward, and tilts her head, amazed, facinated, interested. However you would like to put it. "You play sax... wow, I'd love to hear you sometime, I love music. I-I mean, if you wouldn't mind, I'm sure you're busy." She would have to backtrack a moment. "On Venus, I didn't do much of anything. I was blind from Venus Sickness. I recently went through with treatment for it, so I'm still getting a handle on the vision thing."

"Really?"

Yes, really: don't be stupid, Gren. "How's it going, then? The whole seeing thing? Because you had me fooled." He takes a sip of his tea and once again, it's perfect. "And you know what? I'm not busy. I'm never too busy to play."

At least now that he has his sax again.

He never went to Venus. Not once in his whole life. He's seen pictures, but they probably don't do it justice.

"It's... strange, sight. I'm still used to taking my cues from sound and touch, and judging things by what I see last, at least with people. I've found I really enjoy people watching here, now that I can see. Everyone here is so different. Color is just so amazing." She pauses and studies Gren for a moment, lining up what she sees, with what she feels. "Do you have a favorite song to play?"

He shrugs a little: to him, music is the equivalent of color. "I play jazz. Some of my favorites are classics and some are my own compositions. I've been playing for years and years."

It's still pretty amazing, though, that Stella's from the same time as him. He wonders for a minute if they're really from the same place, but... she's mentioned Venus sickness, which means terraforming and artificial atmospheres and floating gardens, and all that points to things being the same.

"Do you have a favorite song?" Odds are, he'd know it.

"Vivaldi's Winter. When I hear it... it just forms this perfect picture in my mind. Each instrument adding to it, so I can see something I've never experienced."

Charlie has a gitar with him and is in a good mood.

It's only because he doesn't now how Gren will react that Charlie doesn't pounce. Bt he is very, very cheerful.

"Hey! Want to make some music?" He bounces on the balls of his feet.

"Hey."

His expression softens into a smile. "Yeah. That sounds great."

"Cool. Wht do you want to play?" He settles in a chair, guitar on his knee.

"Tell you what: I'll run upstairs and grab my sax, and that piece of music we worked on. And then when we're done with that, we can just jam. I'll be right back." He squeezes Charlie's shoulder, then runs upstairs.

He's back with his sax pretty damn fast: this is an opportunity he doesn't want to waste. As quickly as he can, he softens a reed and sets it into the mouthpiece and tightens it and warms up and just... beams.

He knows this. He can do this. And seeing as how he wrote the song, he hands the sheet music to Charlie.

"Any time."

Charlie nods, tunes his guitar, and starts playing what Gren has written.

It sounds pretty good for a first attempt: a little more folk than jazz because of the softness of the guitar, but it fits. It works. It's all he can do to stop at the end.

And he smiles, and it's a very big smile.

"That was... not so bad. I think if we pick up the tempo just a little bit..."

Playing saxophone is a good thing. Playing it alone is fine: it's a solo, it's a single streetlight in the dead of night; it's a breeze rippling across a pond. But playing with other people is just that much closer to the divine.

He's missed this more than he ever realized.

Thank you, Charlie.

"What's next?"

"That agaain, faster? Maybe on the piano?

"Or some standards. My gran insisted I know some of those."

"Your choice," Gren insists. "If it's something I don't know, I'll pick it up quickly enough." He's been a musician for 23 of his 29 years and a sax player for 20 of them: he's a quick study.

He's also like a kid in a candy store: he can't make up his mind. He's almost giddy.

"Okay." He thinks a moment, then grins. "Something new I've been working on? I don't have it written out but you can follow, yeah?"

He wiggles in his chair, beaming, and starts playing something fast and playful.

Key of C: I can follow this. He listens for a little bit, then joins in: he's a little sloppy -- this isn't his usual style of play -- but it doesn't matter. It's a jaunty melody and it's fun, and it even sounds pretty good after a while.

When they're done, Gren just lets out a laugh: it's joy and relief and happiness and fun all wrapped up in one big smile from the bottom of his heart.

He thinks this is what it's all about. For him, anyway: music transcends everything. Everything, and he hasn't been this happy since he got here.

"Yeah! Exactly." Charlie grins at him, pleased--not just with the music, but that Gren's laughing. This is a very good thing.

"You choose now. I hate being the only one to suggest songs--makes me feel like some kind of dictator."

What might he choose that Charlie would know? Think classics. He reaches back in his thoughts and comes up with... "Georgia On My Mind?" Everyone who's anyone knows that one.

He can already see the pattern: jazz, rock. Slow, fast. Soft, loud.

Gren likes the pattern very much.