Stratocaster [Aidan]
Posted: 21 Feb 2015, 08:57
--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
<Aidan> The now warm beer sat before her, untouched of course and more of a sad reminder of the life she used to lead. One that now seemed to haunt her more and more as of late, like a ghost she could not shake no matter how hard she tried. The **** with the storm did little to help her mood either, instead it had caused some strife with Asteria given her rightful concern that Aidan had decided to leave the apartment in the first place. The whole just needing to be alone hurting the other woman and Aidan wished that she could explain herself better but no even she was sure what was up with her.
So, here she sat in the one place she remembered feeling safe. One of the earliest memories she had since she started this new life. When she, Asteria , Reilly and Lan had laughed the night away at their new “family.” Since her capture with her…human kin…the thought of family was one whose meaning she felt she had lost and yearned to know again.
Lancaster d’Artois The night was a little quieter than usual, which was a godsend for Elliot. Although he had physically recovered from his illness, he still sometimes had bouts of fatigue; he couldn’t work at his usual rate, running around the city to attend to all of his businesses, plus some. The others were all running smoothly, however, and he had come back to Lancaster’s to relax a little. Sometimes relaxation was not a thing at the pub. Some nights, everything that could go wrong went wrong, on top of the place being packed to the rafters.
Not tonight, however. There was a lone player on the stage—a woman on the piano, singing soft blues melodies, her voice deep, soothing and husky. Elliot slowly roamed the establishment, clearing up glasses and wiping down tables. Feeling content, in the kind of way one feels when tired but not stressed. Lazy, even. He hadn’t noticed Aidan until he approached her table. He hadn’t seen her for a while.
“Aidan. Long time no see,” he said as he dropped down into the seat opposite her. There were small signs of his previous ailment—the way he clenches and unclenches his fist to nudge away a small cramp, and weary look in his eyes. But that was about it.
<Aidan> The voice cut through her zoning and she jumped slightly, eyes a bit unfocused before she finally seemed to recognize the man before her. “Oh…hey Lan,” she said with a small smile. “Yeah…kind of just been…about. Sorry about that,” she apologized without much thought to the matter. “How have you been?”
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot shrugged. "Don't apologise. You don't have to tell me what you're doing every second of the week," he said with a smile. It felt odd, to not have a drink in front of him. But he didn't get up to go and get one. Instead, he remained sprawled with his legs out in front of him, his palms flat on the wood of the table. "Could have been better," he said, still smiling. "And you?" he asked. It was common courtesy to ask, even though he could feel the swirling eddies of Aidan's dark mood volleying for the space between them.
<Aidan> “Yeah though I feel like I have kind of just been a ghost lately,” she pushed up, off her elbows that had been resting on the table to sit more up right and actually make the effort to look him in the eye. “I’ve been…” words just seemed not there so she finished her sentence with a shrug. “Kind of…alive? Not sure if that counts for us, but…” another shrug, while she leaned back and crossed her arms, almost like she had to hug herself to try and keep herself safe from some unseen force. “Why could you have been better?” she asked to try and deflect the conversation from herself for a bit.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot watched Aidan carefully - she raised herself to look him in the eye, so he made sure to keep eye contact. His eyes were his usual blue, filled with curious concern. It was hard not to want to fix things when he could feel them. Could feel just how much something hurt, or didn't hurt, or wasn't there. A foreign feeling, but that didn't make it any less potent. He laughed, lightly, and shook his head. "Turns out I got tetanus poison. That storm? I got hit in the head with a flying street sign. I think that was where it came from," he said. He'd had plenty of time in bed to think about it. "Some nights I think I'm more human than human," he said, though there was still a light smile on his face. As if the idea of being able to get sick, even nearly fatally so, was a comfort to him rather than a curse. "You know if you need to talk to me about anything, you can... yeah?"
<Aidan> “So, you almost died?” she said somewhat shamed that she had been so disconnected to even notice or know about it. Since her…sire had made it a habit to spawn more vamps she kind of unplugged from the family a bit. Now, here it was that the one man who might as well be that for her and to her, had nearly died but she had not even noticed. “I’m sorry…” she said her voice legitimately held regret and shame that she had not noticed. Which, helped to ignore his offer for her to talk, she was not sure if she wanted or was ready to talk to him about anything just yet.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot shook his head. "I don't think it was that bad. I was laid up in bed for a while, is all. I'm not sure it would have killed me..." he said, slowly. He wondered, then, whether it could have. But if there was one thing most people would recognise about Elliot is that, most of the time, he had an unfailing kind of optimism. Death hadn't occurred to him. "Just like I don't expect you to keep me up to date on everything going on in your life, I don't expect you to be keeping constant tabs on mine. It's fine," he said with a shrug. He was aware Aidan hadn't commented on his suggestion to talk. But he doesn't push the matter.
<Aidan> “You are so easy going sometimes, I wonder how your genuine kindness has not been crushed by the world yet,” she said with a small smile and a sigh. “If you ran for office people would vote for you. Just when you give that smile of yours and do that whole, “Everything will be fine”, thing that you do, people would really feel comforted in that and believe it,” she shook her head that the image and smiled some more. “I know I do…or at least…” she shrugged unable to admit she was no longer certain about how life would be anymore. More if she would be safe…or…more importantly, if those she loved would be safe in the future.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot laughed, then. A genuine laugh because he found her observation to be thoroughly amusing. "Yeah? Sure. Maybe they'd vote for me in the beginning but then they'd realise the whole everything will be fine thing is a farce. And then they'll throw stones. En masse, like a hoarde of villagers with torches, ready to burn my house down," he said, the smile still broad upon his features. But then he shrugged and shook his head. "Not for vampire politics, though. I'm too weak for them," he said with a dallying smirk. He could feel the hesitation in Aidan. It was all well and good telling people everything was going to be fine. But when it turned out not to be fine, then there was something to make up for.
<Aidan> “Yean no; you’re not made for that. Not at all,” she said with smile and felt herself relax a bit more. “You are too nice for that. Too kind. But, you could run for like President or whatever and people would vote for you. Unless you started to play your guitar,” she teased. “People don’t want their ear bleeding you know?” The fun banter was nice and made her feel more at ease and at peace, not much so but it was there. This was like those moments when she and Asteria shared together when they were home alone. Teasing and joking at one another, with the silence that may happen not one that felt heavy or strained. It was more of a comfort than anything else.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot assumed a faux seriouness. "You're right. No need to torture them with horrible music, right?" he said. Another of the weird and wonderful tics about Elliot's vampiric make-up was the inability to lie. But so modest and sincere, it didn't gag in his throat, the idea that his own music might be horrible. Besides which, he understood that the genre wasn't for anyone. "They'd much prefer a bit of heavy metal. Some wailing, maybe," he said, thoughtful. "Maybe I should change my genre. Work on something a little different. Scream into the microphone every now and again."
<Aidan> “Oh yeah, that scream rock is the ****,” she chuckled then remembered with a sad kind of smile. “I still have to get with you to learn the guitar for that song I want to play…” a slow sigh was done when she realized how long it had been since she had asked him this. So much time had just slipped away from her and she was not even sure how or why that was the case.
Lancaster d’Artois The mood had slowly been thinning. Almost like it was a thick sludge of marshland before, the rains had come and the mud was slipping away. But now, it started to return again, for whatever reason, and Elliot straightened in his seat as if trying to chase after it. To stop it from getting worse again. He flicked his head toward the roof. "There are guitars upstairs. We can go and do it right now if you want," he said. The top floor was supposed to have been a love nest for he and Pi, but they hadn't got around to it yet. At the moment it was all just storage - a place where Elliot kept his extra instruments. Stock leftover from Curlew. Because really, in the end, they had eternity. Lost time wasn't something to mourn anymore.
<Aidan> The now warm beer sat before her, untouched of course and more of a sad reminder of the life she used to lead. One that now seemed to haunt her more and more as of late, like a ghost she could not shake no matter how hard she tried. The **** with the storm did little to help her mood either, instead it had caused some strife with Asteria given her rightful concern that Aidan had decided to leave the apartment in the first place. The whole just needing to be alone hurting the other woman and Aidan wished that she could explain herself better but no even she was sure what was up with her.
So, here she sat in the one place she remembered feeling safe. One of the earliest memories she had since she started this new life. When she, Asteria , Reilly and Lan had laughed the night away at their new “family.” Since her capture with her…human kin…the thought of family was one whose meaning she felt she had lost and yearned to know again.
Lancaster d’Artois The night was a little quieter than usual, which was a godsend for Elliot. Although he had physically recovered from his illness, he still sometimes had bouts of fatigue; he couldn’t work at his usual rate, running around the city to attend to all of his businesses, plus some. The others were all running smoothly, however, and he had come back to Lancaster’s to relax a little. Sometimes relaxation was not a thing at the pub. Some nights, everything that could go wrong went wrong, on top of the place being packed to the rafters.
Not tonight, however. There was a lone player on the stage—a woman on the piano, singing soft blues melodies, her voice deep, soothing and husky. Elliot slowly roamed the establishment, clearing up glasses and wiping down tables. Feeling content, in the kind of way one feels when tired but not stressed. Lazy, even. He hadn’t noticed Aidan until he approached her table. He hadn’t seen her for a while.
“Aidan. Long time no see,” he said as he dropped down into the seat opposite her. There were small signs of his previous ailment—the way he clenches and unclenches his fist to nudge away a small cramp, and weary look in his eyes. But that was about it.
<Aidan> The voice cut through her zoning and she jumped slightly, eyes a bit unfocused before she finally seemed to recognize the man before her. “Oh…hey Lan,” she said with a small smile. “Yeah…kind of just been…about. Sorry about that,” she apologized without much thought to the matter. “How have you been?”
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot shrugged. "Don't apologise. You don't have to tell me what you're doing every second of the week," he said with a smile. It felt odd, to not have a drink in front of him. But he didn't get up to go and get one. Instead, he remained sprawled with his legs out in front of him, his palms flat on the wood of the table. "Could have been better," he said, still smiling. "And you?" he asked. It was common courtesy to ask, even though he could feel the swirling eddies of Aidan's dark mood volleying for the space between them.
<Aidan> “Yeah though I feel like I have kind of just been a ghost lately,” she pushed up, off her elbows that had been resting on the table to sit more up right and actually make the effort to look him in the eye. “I’ve been…” words just seemed not there so she finished her sentence with a shrug. “Kind of…alive? Not sure if that counts for us, but…” another shrug, while she leaned back and crossed her arms, almost like she had to hug herself to try and keep herself safe from some unseen force. “Why could you have been better?” she asked to try and deflect the conversation from herself for a bit.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot watched Aidan carefully - she raised herself to look him in the eye, so he made sure to keep eye contact. His eyes were his usual blue, filled with curious concern. It was hard not to want to fix things when he could feel them. Could feel just how much something hurt, or didn't hurt, or wasn't there. A foreign feeling, but that didn't make it any less potent. He laughed, lightly, and shook his head. "Turns out I got tetanus poison. That storm? I got hit in the head with a flying street sign. I think that was where it came from," he said. He'd had plenty of time in bed to think about it. "Some nights I think I'm more human than human," he said, though there was still a light smile on his face. As if the idea of being able to get sick, even nearly fatally so, was a comfort to him rather than a curse. "You know if you need to talk to me about anything, you can... yeah?"
<Aidan> “So, you almost died?” she said somewhat shamed that she had been so disconnected to even notice or know about it. Since her…sire had made it a habit to spawn more vamps she kind of unplugged from the family a bit. Now, here it was that the one man who might as well be that for her and to her, had nearly died but she had not even noticed. “I’m sorry…” she said her voice legitimately held regret and shame that she had not noticed. Which, helped to ignore his offer for her to talk, she was not sure if she wanted or was ready to talk to him about anything just yet.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot shook his head. "I don't think it was that bad. I was laid up in bed for a while, is all. I'm not sure it would have killed me..." he said, slowly. He wondered, then, whether it could have. But if there was one thing most people would recognise about Elliot is that, most of the time, he had an unfailing kind of optimism. Death hadn't occurred to him. "Just like I don't expect you to keep me up to date on everything going on in your life, I don't expect you to be keeping constant tabs on mine. It's fine," he said with a shrug. He was aware Aidan hadn't commented on his suggestion to talk. But he doesn't push the matter.
<Aidan> “You are so easy going sometimes, I wonder how your genuine kindness has not been crushed by the world yet,” she said with a small smile and a sigh. “If you ran for office people would vote for you. Just when you give that smile of yours and do that whole, “Everything will be fine”, thing that you do, people would really feel comforted in that and believe it,” she shook her head that the image and smiled some more. “I know I do…or at least…” she shrugged unable to admit she was no longer certain about how life would be anymore. More if she would be safe…or…more importantly, if those she loved would be safe in the future.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot laughed, then. A genuine laugh because he found her observation to be thoroughly amusing. "Yeah? Sure. Maybe they'd vote for me in the beginning but then they'd realise the whole everything will be fine thing is a farce. And then they'll throw stones. En masse, like a hoarde of villagers with torches, ready to burn my house down," he said, the smile still broad upon his features. But then he shrugged and shook his head. "Not for vampire politics, though. I'm too weak for them," he said with a dallying smirk. He could feel the hesitation in Aidan. It was all well and good telling people everything was going to be fine. But when it turned out not to be fine, then there was something to make up for.
<Aidan> “Yean no; you’re not made for that. Not at all,” she said with smile and felt herself relax a bit more. “You are too nice for that. Too kind. But, you could run for like President or whatever and people would vote for you. Unless you started to play your guitar,” she teased. “People don’t want their ear bleeding you know?” The fun banter was nice and made her feel more at ease and at peace, not much so but it was there. This was like those moments when she and Asteria shared together when they were home alone. Teasing and joking at one another, with the silence that may happen not one that felt heavy or strained. It was more of a comfort than anything else.
Lancaster d’Artois Elliot assumed a faux seriouness. "You're right. No need to torture them with horrible music, right?" he said. Another of the weird and wonderful tics about Elliot's vampiric make-up was the inability to lie. But so modest and sincere, it didn't gag in his throat, the idea that his own music might be horrible. Besides which, he understood that the genre wasn't for anyone. "They'd much prefer a bit of heavy metal. Some wailing, maybe," he said, thoughtful. "Maybe I should change my genre. Work on something a little different. Scream into the microphone every now and again."
<Aidan> “Oh yeah, that scream rock is the ****,” she chuckled then remembered with a sad kind of smile. “I still have to get with you to learn the guitar for that song I want to play…” a slow sigh was done when she realized how long it had been since she had asked him this. So much time had just slipped away from her and she was not even sure how or why that was the case.
Lancaster d’Artois The mood had slowly been thinning. Almost like it was a thick sludge of marshland before, the rains had come and the mud was slipping away. But now, it started to return again, for whatever reason, and Elliot straightened in his seat as if trying to chase after it. To stop it from getting worse again. He flicked his head toward the roof. "There are guitars upstairs. We can go and do it right now if you want," he said. The top floor was supposed to have been a love nest for he and Pi, but they hadn't got around to it yet. At the moment it was all just storage - a place where Elliot kept his extra instruments. Stock leftover from Curlew. Because really, in the end, they had eternity. Lost time wasn't something to mourn anymore.