musical interlude

[i_am_your_host]

Being trapped in Milliways makes Emcee anxious and restless. His door is visible, he isn't Bound, but he is still trapped. Without a fully-formed plan yet (and without Eric, one of the key components in his plan), he can't leave.

It would be so easy to stay.

Emcee sits down at the piano with some sheet music. Once again, he practices. And then he plays.

"All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere..."

His voice is softly melancholic, weary with resignation, edged with a plea.

"Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world...
Mad world...


Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday, happy birthday
Made to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world...
Mad world...
Enlarge your world...
Mad world..."


Emcee ends on a sigh as the notes fade away.

there are no

troubles

here

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric listens from his place by the fire. Applause seem like the wrong reaction so instead he asks a rat to send Emcee a drink on Sinric's tab.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is shuffling through the sheet music when a waitrat places a glass of red wine on the piano.

"Oh," he says with mild surprise. The rat squeaks, gesturing for him to turn toward the fireplace. Emcee glances over, and with a smile, he raises his glass to Sinric.

"Thank you, darling. Will you come sit with me?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Very gladly." Sinric puts his book aside and comes to sit by Emcee, companionably close. He rests his head on Emcee's shoulder, warm and at ease. "A very melancholy song. And very beautiful."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee brushes his lips over Sinric's hair and then slowly and softly plays the melody on the keyboard.

"It was one of those songs that found me when I was spending all that time alone in my room," he says. "I listened to it over and over and over again, it moved me so. It was funny. It was sad, that my own dreams of dying were..."

He trails off.

"The best I've ever had," he sings in a whisper.

[thewidewideworld]

"I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take" Sinric sings, just as softly. He echoes the melody with one hand, the other rests on Emcee's thigh.

"Hard to make someone understand an experience like yours. And yet to find words that echo the feeling so deeply." He nods, knowing how powerful that is.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee nods as well, his fingers still ghosting slowly over the keys, turning the song into a sort of lullaby.

"It still haunts me," he murmurs. "I like to think that I can move on quickly from the worst of situations. But this-- this was so much more than I had ever known. It could drive me mad if I let it."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes his head and turns to kiss Emcee's cheek. "Everything had changed for you, and everything will change again. But there's light and hope." He wraps his arms lightly around Emcee's shoulders.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee's fingers still on the last notes, and he smiles a little at the kiss on the cheek.

"I know. You told me there will be, and I believe it," he says earnestly.

He plays another chord.

"Don't let the sun go down on me," he sings softly, sparsely playing the accompaniment, letting his voice carry the melody.

"Although I searched myself, it's always someone else I see
I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me."

He leans into Sinric's arms. "Another song that moved me."

[thewidewideworld]

"I can see why." Sinric nods, resting his head on Emcee's shoulder again, still hugging him loosely but not so that he interferes with Emcee's playing.

[likeroaringlions]

William Douglas generally scoffs at musical interludes, and he's pretty sure he should be scoffing now and running out the door any minute now with his football--yes, even in whatever snow there might be--but he's got a mug of beer in his hand that he doesn't seem to be hurrying to finish and he keeps sort of fidgeting closer, rolling the ball back and forth under his foot and trying to look like he's not listening.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is nearly through with the song when he notices the young Scotsman with the football moving closer. He isn't distracted, he's a professional performer after all. But it's nice to know that he's reached another pair of ears.

The song ends on its hanging, slightly ominous notes, and Emcee lets the sound fade before lifting his fingers off the keyboard.

And then he takes a drag off his cigarette which had been waiting for him in an ashtray beside the sheet music.

[likeroaringlions]

The young Scotsman gives an even fidgetier fidget when the song finishes, shaking it off. But he has the feeling he's been caught listening, and dammit there's Nothing Wrong With That, so he squares his shoulders and saunters up to the piano. With his football, of course. "That's what that thing's for, then? Music?"

look he's been seeing the piano for a while there and wondering

[i_am_your_host]

Absolutely Nothing Wrong With That!

"Indeed it is," Emcee affirms with a mild smile.

He can't remember where they'd first/last met. The county fair, perhaps, which feels like so very long ago.

"It's called a piano. You haven't heard anyone play it before?"

[likeroaringlions]

"Nah." He's trying to remember too where it is that he remembers the man from--yes, maybe the fair? "Just seen it sitting about here."

He scuffs the football up against the piano's leg a couple of times, then catches himself and darts a faintly apologetic glance at Emcee. "It's, eh. Good?" It plays notes and everything! "That a song from where you're from?"

[i_am_your_host]

"This is a particularly lovely instrument and very well kept," he says, just as the ball bounces off the piano's leg. Emcee doesn't say anything about it, but he suspects that whoever takes care of the piano here would raise a stern eyebrow. Or something.

"And no, I only learned the song here. It's from the future. I've been listening to a lot of music lately to keep myself occupied. I am an entertainer, so this is what I do."

[likeroaringlions]

Right, well kept. Particularly lovely. William tries to look like he has nothing to do with the football that just bumped into the piano thing.

"Aye, right enough, I should have known it would be from a place like here. Talking about..." About Children waiting for the day they feel good, made to feel the way... "About that kind of stuff. Whatever."

[i_am_your_host]

"What are songs in your time usually about?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

[arcane_mixologist]

Oh dear, Eliot thinks when he hears the song and the singer's wonderful voice. Having finished his clandestine studying, Eliot was relaxing with a drink but now he knows he is needed. It's fate.

He stands and shifts behind the bar, bending over to apologize to Bar for invading her space while she's awake and sets to mixing a drink for the poor maudlin fellow at the piano.

Soon enough, he's at Eemcee's side, a poster sized roll of paper under his arm and two martinis on a tray balanced on hand attached to the arm holding the roll of paper. By then, Eemcee has finished the song, and so Eliot bows at the waist, saying, "Not to distract from your lovely song, and it was glorious and sad, but I need your help. Can I depend on you, noble sir?"

[i_am_your_host]

As the last notes fade, Emcee looks up, his fingers still resting lightly on the keyboard. And his expression lights up with the recognition of someone he hasn't seen--and someone whose company he'd rather enjoyed very much--in a very long time.

"Eliot," he breathes through a half-chuckle, eyeing the cocktails on the tray. "Oh, you know I'm the furthest thing from a 'noble sir.' 'Indelicate peasant' is more like it, but I can still help you all the same."

[arcane_mixologist]

"Not so indelicate in your palate, I am hoping," Eliot says handing over one of the glasses. "I'm working on a new cocktail and I can't decide if it needs bitters or not. Here's one with."

[ooc: the drink is something like a dirty martini with a dash of bitters and rosemary.]

[i_am_your_host]

"Perish the thought," he remarks with a faint smirk, and he takes the glass. After first passing it under his nose to get a whiff of what might be in it, he then takes a small sip. His eyebrows rise, and then he takes another sip.

"Ooh, I like this. I like this very much indeed. And the other one?"

[arcane_mixologist]

"The same, but without the bitters. I just can't decide if it's adding enough to bother."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee helps himself to the other glass, taking a few sips to compare.

"This is nice, but the one with the bitters has a more dynamic flavor. I would definitely go with the bitters. Not too much, though. I like the aftertaste of rosemary."

A beat.

"I get to finish both, don't I?" he says, teasingly possessive of the free drinks he's just been offered.

[arcane_mixologist]

Eliot pretends to have to think about it for a few moments; even going so far as to chew on a lip. His in this case.

"I suppose, but for a price. Scoot over so I may play a song. No negotiations."

[i_am_your_host]

Narrowing his eyes a little, he then nods as if resigned.

"You drive a hard bargain," he replies, moving over to make room on the bench. He places one martini glass on the piano, and keeps the other one in hand.

"I didn't know you played."