[ Still grinning by the time she makes it back, he preps his next few arrows. He shoots them off in quick succession, landing them in a close grouping but not quite on the bullseye. ]
At least I'm not trying to reenact that scene from that Mel Brooks movie.
My mom can trace her ancestry to Great Britain, so I kind of am. [ Putting on a really bad British accent, he continues: ] Do you have Georgia in your blood, Miss O'hara? I think not.
Oh, totally! If anyone could get away with it, it's us.
I don't know if I'm prepared for that kind of commitment, actually, that's a lot of social pressure and I might give into keeping all the wealth to myself. You sure you want me as your partner in crime?
[ Tsk, tsk. ] With great power comes great responsibility, Nat. I'd have to follow you and make sure you stay on the right track or something. I wouldn't want to have to find someone else.
[ Henry's still not quite sure how he got here, but he's always been pretty good at rolling with the punches. He just hadn't expected that getting punched by a giant would roll him onto the beach of some phantom island he'd never heard of before.
But hey, the water's great, for the middle of winter! ]
A lifetime of promises and she remains here, punished for her loyalties, longing for those who will never return her affections. She knows she should stay inside, where she's protected, but when her attendants inform her that there is a new person on the island, Calypso can't help but wonder.
So she's there, standing on the shore with her russet-colored hair blowing in the sea breeze. Where is he? ]
[ Maybe that hit knocked a few screws loose, because Henry hasn't left the water yet. It's not that bad, really, and he's still hanging out in the waves when he sees a girl walk up on the beach, and he waves to her enthusiastically. ]
[ This is a very poor idea, but Calypso has never really been one for self-restraint when it comes to company. So she unknots the sarong and unwinds the fabric until she's in a modern (for him) bathing suit. With a gaze cast over her shoulder to her alcove, she sighs and hurries into the water. ]
What's your name? [ She calls when the water reaches her knees. ]
[ As soon as she comes closer, he's struck by how beautiful she is - and that's really the only word to describe her. But Henry's not one to freak out just because there's a pretty girl around, so he just smiles and chills in the water. ]
Maya liked this place, even if none of her friends could come here with her. The Blank Canvas was a rather selective club. Only one rule defined who could enter, and after that... well, there were some minor things about following the law, but even that could be overlooked if everyone had a good time. Talent, only the talented could get in. Poets, writers, dancers, singers... provided you could prove your creativity on the spot the first time, you were given your membership right then and there.
So Maya came here once or twice a month, took up an entire lounge sofa, and wrote music while nursing a wine cooler she probably shouldn't be drinking. When she saw someone who seemed nice, or she knew was talented she'd smile, strike up a conversation. But generally? She just enjoyed the freedom away from her fellows at school and the rules around her to just do what felt right. Which for her was a drink, music, and company.
Henry had found this place through a few friends, one of his fellow jazz pianists from school he liked to jam with now and then. It's been a few years since he started coming, so he was pretty well known in The Blank Canvas by now, though he's never gone out of his way to play like he owns the place or anything. It was just a good place to hang out, a nice, chill environment to help him relax.
Usually, when he came, Henry would be lounging in one of the chairs, sprawled out with a bowl as he listened to the medley of sound. Today was a different story, however, and he was seated at one of the pianos, high as a kite as he played, but enjoying himself. It wasn't about sounding perfect, after all; it's about creating.
Maya kept writing notes on her new song, trying her best to take in the creativity of the atmosphere without being drawn to anything specific that wasn't her's. Which worked mostly, there were only a few people playing. Most of tonight's crowd were visual artists, there was a painter working on a nude model, which was both painting designs on him and oh-so-subtly fondling him. And while Sitars sounded cool she never really took inspiration from it directly.
But some of the stuff Henry was doing to the poor Piano did sound good, with a little polish anyway. She jotted it down before realizing that, well, stealing soemone else's work was a bit rude. "Hey Henry, okay if I use some of that? You had some good progressions in there I like. I'll buy you a drink or something?"
He didn't even pause, just kept on playing as he looked over at her with a grin, leaning slightly in her direction as he spoke. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind."
Henry had never been stingy about it. As far as he was concerned, music was for everyone. Anyone could enjoy it; they just needed to be in the right frame of mind. That was why he liked this place, though - everyone could appreciate what you did, in one way or another, and the effort (or lack thereof) that went into it. For him, it was all about the freedom to create and enjoy art, in whatever form it took.
And maybe the marijuana helped with that, but hey. No one here was judging.
"I want to hear it when you're done," was the only price he named, though he wouldn't be against a drink or two later. He was just curious how she'd make it work on the strings.
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perfectforyou) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
arrays2013-12-22 03:33 pm
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[ Henry doesn't sound the slightest bit offended, just amused as he looks between Natalie and her last shot, right on target. ]
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Maybe it's 'cause I prefer training over improvisation.
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[ Still grinning by the time she makes it back, he preps his next few arrows. He shoots them off in quick succession, landing them in a close grouping but not quite on the bullseye. ]
At least I'm not trying to reenact that scene from that Mel Brooks movie.
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[ She snorts, leaning against the tree behind him. ]
Who would you be in this context?
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[ She grins, slinging her bow over her shoulders. ]
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Are we still doing the stealing from the rich to give to the poor thing?
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Oh, totally! If anyone could get away with it, it's us.
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I don't know if I'm prepared for that kind of commitment, actually, that's a lot of social pressure and I might give into keeping all the wealth to myself. You sure you want me as your partner in crime?
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I do have killer aim, though.
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But hey, the water's great, for the middle of winter! ]
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A lifetime of promises and she remains here, punished for her loyalties, longing for those who will never return her affections. She knows she should stay inside, where she's protected, but when her attendants inform her that there is a new person on the island, Calypso can't help but wonder.
So she's there, standing on the shore with her russet-colored hair blowing in the sea breeze. Where is he? ]
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Hey! Come on in, the water's fine!
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[ This is a very poor idea, but Calypso has never really been one for self-restraint when it comes to company. So she unknots the sarong and unwinds the fabric until she's in a modern (for him) bathing suit. With a gaze cast over her shoulder to her alcove, she sighs and hurries into the water. ]
What's your name? [ She calls when the water reaches her knees. ]
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It's Henry.
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So Maya came here once or twice a month, took up an entire lounge sofa, and wrote music while nursing a wine cooler she probably shouldn't be drinking. When she saw someone who seemed nice, or she knew was talented she'd smile, strike up a conversation. But generally? She just enjoyed the freedom away from her fellows at school and the rules around her to just do what felt right. Which for her was a drink, music, and company.
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Usually, when he came, Henry would be lounging in one of the chairs, sprawled out with a bowl as he listened to the medley of sound. Today was a different story, however, and he was seated at one of the pianos, high as a kite as he played, but enjoying himself. It wasn't about sounding perfect, after all; it's about creating.
no subject
But some of the stuff Henry was doing to the poor Piano did sound good, with a little polish anyway. She jotted it down before realizing that, well, stealing soemone else's work was a bit rude. "Hey Henry, okay if I use some of that? You had some good progressions in there I like. I'll buy you a drink or something?"
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Henry had never been stingy about it. As far as he was concerned, music was for everyone. Anyone could enjoy it; they just needed to be in the right frame of mind. That was why he liked this place, though - everyone could appreciate what you did, in one way or another, and the effort (or lack thereof) that went into it. For him, it was all about the freedom to create and enjoy art, in whatever form it took.
And maybe the marijuana helped with that, but hey. No one here was judging.
"I want to hear it when you're done," was the only price he named, though he wouldn't be against a drink or two later. He was just curious how she'd make it work on the strings.