2nd Tune [action/voice]

[keepsmehonest]

[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?

Comments

[ voice ]

[talentsgirl]

[Molly hadn't been expecting such a pleasant surprise when it came to opening her journal today. When she clicks on the voice, Geordie is first greeted with the sound of applause.]

That was beautiful.

[ voice ]

[keepsmehonest]

[That gets a smile from Geordie, even if the look on his face becomes a little more bashful when he sees the picture accompanying the applause. He's never exactly been smooth around girls he finds attractive.

But the joy of having his fiddle easily overcome any awkwardness around the opposite sex.]

Thank you. That's the best kind of response I can ask for.

[ voice ]

[talentsgirl]

[Still smiling, Molly continued.]

It's like a different kind of dance, isn't it?

[ voice ]

[keepsmehonest]

It's whatever you want to make of it. That's the beauty of music. No matter what the composer intended, it's up to you to take what you will from the piece.

[A moment's pause and then a chuckle, as if he was sharing a secret. It's a silly attempt at flirtation but he leans in closer to the journal before continuing.] But I am, in particular, fond of those tunes you really can dance a storm to.

action;

[etudes]

[ Don't mind Kotomi here. She's standing a little bit away from the fountain, but she's just.. pretty much staring in awe at he's playing the fiddle. She's so amazed that she practically seems like some sort of statue, frozen in awe.. ]

action;

[keepsmehonest]

[It's been so long since Geordie could lose himself in his music like this that it takes him a few minutes to notice Kotomi watching. When he does see her, nearly finished with the second piece, he winks.

Then, once finished, he moves the fiddle from his chin and carefully places it on the fountain's edge. He waves.]

Hey, Kotomi!

[etudes]

[ Unfortunately Kotomi's brain is finetuned to the part where she doesn't hear it when people call her just 'Kotomi' without saying 'Kotomi-chan'.. which leads to these kind of situations all the time.

These kind of situations being her just.. staring. She's not speaking up, not saying anything, as if he never spoke to her to begin with. She's just staring in the same way she did before, as if she didn't hear him. ]

[keepsmehonest]

Kotomi! [He calls again before picking up the fiddle and bow and walking over to the girl. It's not that far a walk anyway, and she seems somewhat distracted. Geordie stops a few feet away and waves again with his free hand.] Good afternoon!

[video]

[idealism]

That was pretty.

Do you know the Devil's Trill?

[voice]

[keepsmehonest]

Thank you. [He pauses for a moment, taking the time to sit on the fountain's edge and place his fiddle in his lap.] I've heard of it, but it's not exactly in my normal repertoire. Baroque, right? By Tartini?

[voice]

[idealism]

I think so. I'm honestly not sure.

[Tsuzuki would follow suit, but the edge of the fountain looks cold. He hides his hands in his coat pockets, trying to keep them warm.]

I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?

[action]

[keepsmehonest]

[The first busker out in the summer and the last to move indoors in the winter. That's always been Geordie's way. The cold doesn't bother him so much. The jacket he found here is warmer than any of the ones he ever owned back in Newford.]

Geordie Riddell. [He stands and offers a hand.] I've only been here a couple of months.

voice:

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio has no appreciation for the music. He has some sentimentality toward the fiddle, but that's the sum of it. The actual sound... is, to him, a toneless droning. Easy to tune out when that's all it is.

But the question--]

There's not much rhyme or reason to when they occur. Or who they take. Or where they will be.

voice:

[keepsmehonest]

I've noticed that much. [His voice is grim when Geordie speaks and you can almost hear the frown in his voice.] The lack of rhyme or reason to who they take. Do they always include women and children?

voice:

[captainhornblower]

[Horatio sighs.]

I've yet to see one where they haven't. Some of the women can... hold their own, certainly, but there is no excuse for taking children.

voice:

[keepsmehonest]

[The sigh is echoed.] I don't even know what they think the children can do.

[Action]

[tapdancinskelly]

[For a time Brook only listens to the familiar sound of a fiddle from behind the fountain, wondering if he should even interrupt. It sounded quite nice, and Brook could certainly appreciate the music, as he himself was a professional violinist. But rather than simply intruding on him while he played, Brook decided to accompany him. After listening for enough time, he could pick up on a good counterpart he could play to the tune, for a harmonic accompaniment. He wasn't sure who the violin player was, as the fountain blocked his view of him, but anyone who appreciated music was fine in his book. He still wasn't about to reveal himself to the fellow violinist in the middle of his song though, in fear that seeing a skeleton might scare him out of his focus.]

[Action]

[keepsmehonest]

[A wide grin spread across Geordie's face at the sound of another fiddle joining in. There's no finer compliment he can think of than inspiring another musician to join in a tune. A street corner is every man's property and Geordie, for one, is more than happy to share.

He picks up the tempo just a bit, curious to see how the other player will react.]

[Action]

[tapdancinskelly]

[Brook in turn also picks up the tempo, curious to see if perhaps the fellow musician was testing his level of skill, or perhaps issuing him a bit of a challenge. At the most appropriate time Brook can see a transition to another song working, Brook begins to play an even faster paced song. One that Brook himself had written two years back.]

[Voice]

[doubleppk]

The drafts are about every other month. About as often as New Feathers.

And nicely done sweetheart. I see you found her [The instrument] after all!

Do you know Les Poules Huppees?

[Voice]

[keepsmehonest]

[He's too distracted for a moment to hear her question. Even if he had only really been eligible for a year of the Vietnam draft before Nixon ended it, that worry wasn't something you easily forgot. War was never exactly something that he was interested in.

Every month. And here, it wasn't even just the men. That bothered him more than the draft itself.

A few seconds pass before Geordie manages to snap himself out of his thoughts.]

Les Poules Huppées? [He pauses for a moment, recollecting.] I think I might. I went on a Continental kick a couple of years ago. Tell me if this sounds right.

[And with that, he starts to play.]

[Voice]

[doubleppk]

[She closes her eyes to listen and waits until it's over before speaking up again] Thanks hun, that's the one.

You played it beautifully, but... so much anger. Something on your mind?

[theoniongirl]

[This.

This is everything she'd been missing for a year, and waiting for since Geordie had arrived. When she hears that fiddle, there's no question in her mind who is playing.

It's almost comical how quickly she abandons her canvas, scrambling over the arm of the couch to reach where she'd set her open journal on an endtable.]

Where are you?

[because there's no way she's missing this]

[keepsmehonest]

[He can just hear the enthusiasm in his voice. Best reaction ever.

Geordie laughs, all serious thought forgotten in favor of his best friend.]

By that fountain in the middle of the plaza. It's a great place to reach an audience.

[theoniongirl]

[she doesn't answer. There's no time for that.

Instead, she grabs her satchel as she hurries out the door, not even bothering to put her brushes in turpentine before she leaves. (She might regret that, later, but it's a price worth paying.) And, less than ten minutes later, Geordie will have a breathless, grinning artist come running up and, regardless of what he's playing, engulf him in a happy hug.

...it's only one small interruption.]