keepsmehonest: (Default)
For any interaction that you want to happen with Geordie, anytime and anyplace within the [community profile] luceti world that do not fit into a given post, please use this!

Just give a date and place, and whether this will be via journal or in-person!
keepsmehonest: ([action] fiddle playing)
[Geordie hasn't been here very long, not when he thinks of it in comparison to Jilly and some of her friends. But every day without his fiddle has felt like a lifetime. Barely a day had gone by before his arrival here that he hadn't had his instrument by his side. It's gotten him through both good times and the bad, especially the bad. So long as he was able to pluck a tune from his old Czech fiddle and lose himself in the music that filled the space around him, taking what he wanted from the notes and chords, he could survive anything.

He had his voice. That was an instrument no one could take from him. But it wasn't the same as his fiddle. His fingers longed to fly over the neck of a fiddle while the bow moved in a furiously fast tempo or glide in a languid slow dance with the fiddle strings. His performance at the wedding had been adequate with a borrowed violin, but Geordie can't help but think it would be better if he had his own familiar instrument. He would have played all of Jilly's favorite tunes during her amnesia, hoping one would've piqued a memory. And every day it was clear skies, he would've been out by that fountain, busking his time away.

It's not being so far from Newford that bothers him. Not even being so far from his brother and his friends. Not the shifts of even the depressing draft system that reminds him all too much of Vietnam and the luck that somehow held for him and Chirsty both. It's that lack of a fiddle - his fiddle - that really felt as if it would slowly drive him mad.

He had taken to haunting the items shop every day since his arrival. And today, for whatever the reason, his search has finally paid off. The case might be missing (much to his disappointment) but at least his fiddle and bow have finally made it here.

For the rest of the day, you can find him by the fountain, playing the fiddle without a care in the world. Eventually, a tune can be heard through the journal.]

I'm taking requests, if anybody has any.

[A few seconds pass in which he plays another quick piece before falling silent. He sets down his fiddle and picks up the journal, regarding it somberly for a moment before asking,] So just how often do these drafts occur, anyway?

1st Tune

Sep. 5th, 2012 01:36 pm
keepsmehonest: ([interest] eyebrow raise)
So, I've got to say, I feel a little silly doing this. Talking to a notebook isn't exactly commonplace where I come from. I've been told I can write into it too, but that almost makes it feel a little too personal. Like I'm writing in a journal instead of... broadcasting on the radio or making a phone call to group of people. I'm not exactly much of a writer, either. That'd be my brother, Christy.

[He laughs a little awkwardly before pausing. Yeah, he feels more than a little ridiculous talking to a book. It's part of the reason he's waited so long before addressing Luceti. Aside from taking the time to settle into the extra room in Jilly's studio. And searching the store for his fiddle.]

I'm Geordie Riddell. From Newford. New York. That's in North America. On Earth. [Then, muttered under his breath:] ...I can't believe I'm saying this. [He clears his throat and continues in a louder voice.] Uh, 1979.

I just arrived here a few days ago, but apparently my best friend has been here a lot longer. Some of you may know her. Jilly Coppercorn? Terminally cheerful artist that almost always has some paint stains on her person?

She's the one who suggested I use this... whatever it is... to try and locate my fiddle. It's an old Czech fiddle, manufactured around the turn of the century. Worn but well taken care of, recently restrung, and the initials G.R. are on the left part of the lower bout. The last time I saw it, it was in its case - scruffy, black with a picture of a blonde Victorian woman in her mid-twenties and a list of Irish drinking tunes inside.

They're very important to me - fiddle and case both - so if you've seen anything fitting the description, let me know?

keepsmehonest: (Default)

Name: Geordie Riddell
Fandom: Newford series by Charles de Lint
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Time Period: Two years after the short story “Timeskip” and a year before “Paperjack,” both found in the anthology Dreams Underfoot. So approximately 1979.
Wing Color: The black/blue of a raven’s wings.

the app )


keepsmehonest: (Default)
Geordie Riddell

October 2012

2122232425 2627

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags