Yrael, the Eighth Bright Shiner (
mogget_cat) wrote2009-04-16 03:44 am
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New Orleans w/Jason
From the bar, the two of them step out into the humid, New Orleans night. The clouds cover the stars and moon, leaving it up to the streetlamps to cast light upon the people who are out and about this evening.
There's the scent of rain in the air. Rain, and the scents of people, cheap hot dogs, alcohol, and the underlying scent of the city, always there.
"It's not far. Just a few blocks over," Yrael says as she looks out at Bourbon St.
There's the scent of rain in the air. Rain, and the scents of people, cheap hot dogs, alcohol, and the underlying scent of the city, always there.
"It's not far. Just a few blocks over," Yrael says as she looks out at Bourbon St.
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Yrael leans back against the bar, pretending to listen to the current performers, a garage wannabe group called Outrageous Flavor They're enthusiastic, Yrael will give them that.
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He smiles to Jack and nods a thanks.
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Ignore the not'cat at your back, Jason. She just swallowed wrong. The coughinglaughingfit will pass shortly.
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He glances over his shoulder at Bianca, shooting her a not too friendly look and praying they call her onstage soon.
He turns back to Wik. "So you must sleep in the daytime and perform and/or try to enjoy quiet drinks. Hmmm...sounds like quite the life to me."
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Yrael ignores Jason in favor of the Outrageous Flavor going on onstage. It's kind of outrageous. Or is trying to be, at least. Enthusiastic Flavor may be more appropriate.
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He laughs. "Well I guess I can scratch 'vampire' off your list of occupations." He's joking, of course. He wouldn't really think she was a vampire. They smell completely different...
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"Get a lot of the hardcore fans around, do you?"
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If it's one thing he's come to hate, it's the vampire freaks. Only want one thing, and it's not him. One woman...girl...even went so far as to ask him where the vampires slept...whilst in mid-coitus. Talk about a turn-off.
He turns slightly to offer a hand with a wry grin. "I'm Jason, by the way. Not one of the crazies. At least I don't think I am."
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Granted, he's usually hearing the more genteel French right before being rolled, and he couldn't remember it if he wanted to.
"Where'd you come up with Wik?"
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The name got extrapolated from there, then shortened.
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He eyes her appreciatively. "You know? I wouldn't have pegged you for working in the library, but it kinda makes me happy to know you do. Makes reading look good."
His smile broadens. "You could do lectures at the local middle schools, and you'd have teen boys hitting the library in droves."
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"Hmmmm, we do need to get our numbers up. Even if the boys wouldn't be there to actually use the library, if they walk in the door, they count. The question would be if I could stand dealing with the middle school boys being there."
Wik pauses, then shifts to lean her elbow on the bar. Despite herself, Jason is offering interesting conversation. "What about you? What do you do when not listening to unfamous people wanting to be famous?"
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He chuckles and drops his head slightly. "Me? Well..." I'm like the PA for the master vampire of my city who munches on me at least every other day, I hang out with the leader of my local werewolf pack to which I am a member, and sometimes offer myself up for sex with our local necromancer who has become a real life succubus.
He grins. "I strip."
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"Really?"
She looks him over.
"You any good? Most people wouldn't come right out and admit that."
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He cocks an eyebrow at her, giving her a roguish look. "Why lie? You never know when someone's going to call you out on it."
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He shakes his head, scooting a little closer to converse without shouting.
"Nah, I'm from St. Louis. I'm here visiting an old friend." His grin is mischievous. "Why, you want to catch the show?"
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In the background, the mediocre band draws its enthusiastically mediocre song to a close, to mediocre applause.
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The laughter in his eyes means that he might be teasing. Then again, he might not...
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She meets his teasing with her own.
It just so happens that after Outrageous Flavor has cleared the stage, Bianca Silvestri is called up. From the applause and few cheers as the pale girl from the seat behind Jason takes the stage, her name is recognized.
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He's about to make another suggestion when Bianca is called up. He smirks over his shoulder, turning so that he's able to see Bianca onstage, but still remain close enough to Wik to converse. And to just be close.
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Up on stage, Bianca sits at the piano. After a moment of pause, her head tilted as if listening for something to inspire her, she begins to play.
Whoever said that rock piano was impossible never met a Bright Shiner on a mission. The beat is fast, the tempo driven on by the fierce, rhythmic chords of the keyboard. It's a challenge, picking up the spirits of all of the bar patrons who hear her, urging them on, especially when she begins to sing. Her voice carries the challenge, the quick, forceful chords of the piano carry the urgency of it.
"Gotta fight- gotta strike-
'cause there's no turning away
From what you don't want to know.
Gotta see- gotta be-
If they're all going astray,
Don't let them take you in tow.
You're a one-man shift in the weather...
You're the woman who just won't sell...
Climbing up, I'm ringing the belllllllll-
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you're gonna make your-
mark this time...
Ooh-Ooh-Ooh you gotta set your-
hope on fire..."
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