keepsmehonest | 2nd Tune [action/voice]

[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?

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[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.]

[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.]

[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.]

[His own playing stills for a minute as he listens to the new song being played. The notes tell an amusing story, one that makes him think of jesters desperate to please their king in a chaotic and humorous scene reminiscent of the Three Stooges. And that's the beauty of music, isn't it? Whatever this composer intended, Geordie can chose to interpret however he may please. It keeps the smile on his face as he attempts to figure out the notes.

Then, after the first break in the piece, he joins in. His bow flies over the strings. The music doesn't flow as smoothly as it had with the previous piece. But he's learned by ear rather than by page. It's not that difficult to join in.]

[Brook is delighted to see that he managed to join in shortly afterwards, even keeping pace with Brook's own feverish playing. Satisfied with the way the last one went, Brook decides to try to lead them on one more song. A song of life and death, and a song more true to his heart than any other song.]

Although as a skeleton I don't have a heart. Yohohoho!

[He couldn't help but let the small skull joke slip through, before playing this song.]

[The slower song catches him off guard for a moment. It's unexpected after cheery tune after cheery tune. He stills his bow once again and closes his eyes, allowing himself the chance to enjoy rather than play. It's a haunting melody, one that makes him think of the Scottish moors he's never had a chance to visit himself. A banshee on a high cliff, surveying a death procession as it passes.

Beautiful.

When the violinist finishes, Geordie puts down his bow to clap.] Bravo!

Yohohoho! [Brook having finally finishes, reveals himself to Geordie.]

You have quite the talent yourself young man! When did you first learn to play if I might ask?

[For a good few seconds there, all he can do is stare. He rubs at his eyes and shakes his head. Disbelief. Clear disbelief. For all her claims of magic, both in Newford and here in Luceti, seeing a skeleton walk right in front of him is kind of... unbelievable.

Forget about a skeleton playing a fiddle.]

Um. I taught myself.

Ahh, self taught aye? I have a lot of respect for that, a few of my best friends learned their instruments that way as well. Of course, it was nearly impossible to teach them to be able to read music. Yohohoho!

Ye- yeah.

[Skeleton. Talking, walking skeleton. He's still gawking.]

Is there a problem?

[He's just casually sipping his tea, like it it's just an ordinary day thing for a skeleton to be walking around playing the violin. Which to be fair, it is for him.]

[He runs a hand through his shaggy hair before gesturing.]

You're, um. Not human. I've been told that's possible, but, well, you're the first I've really encountered.

What?! But I am human!

[Well... at least he was. I mean... look at the bones!]

I'm sorry. [Hands go up in a gesture of peace. He might not agree with his brother's books, but Geordie has flipped through them once or twice in the Newford Public Library. And one message is clear: don't get on the fae's bad side.] I didn't mean to cause offense. I was referring to your lack of skin?

Oh that? ... Aye, I suppose that does make me half the man I used to be. Yohohoho! You see I ate a cursed fruit that brought me back from the dead, and long story short, here I am!

...brought you back from the dead. [The words are slowly and quietly echoed, as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Which, in all frankness, Geordie can't.] That really shouldn't be possible.

You know what else shouldn't be possible? Being abducted to another planet by crazed scientists that stick wings on our backs. Yohohoho!

But yes! Devil fruit are strange things indeed!

[He held up his hands in that universal gesture of innocence.]

You've got a point there. It's been months, but I'm still not used to any of this.

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