if one day is good, is a day sufficient?

[cestrumnocturnum]

Who: Benji Ryans and You!
What: The city is rebuilding itself, and as does everyone else. Benji about town.
Where: Various places!
When: Many times!
Notes: An open log! Refer to the post content for starter ideas. Hit me up if you'd like me to set up anything! Otherwise, go for gold. Suggestions: daylit Mafaton, Aspic, Badside, Brock Marsh, but you know, wherever is clever, Trevor, ask if you're unsure. (Also dream things are welcome, if you are keen, but let me know first in plurk or PM.)
Warnings: Dead eye stares, and teal deers below. Will add as they occur.

There is a morning where she brings her violin with her. The case gets laid out on the street, and her first attempt at playing levels off into obscurity; that no one wants to listen to mediocre musicianship for long at least saves her from the agony of completing the piece. She never necessarily performs; she sits on the stone steps of some building that's being advertised for lease, lanky legs together and aside, ankles crossed, a demure shape in black and grey and an aura of unkemptness that speaks more of habit than it does being windswept and interesting. She thinks of Victorian literature with unusually talented orphans busking for bread, and remembers her cousin playing the piano with her to an audience of three to five, cigarette smoke in the air and then slightly condescending applause, and quietly attempts to play again.

She won't earn much even then, but at least this time, the music winds complete over the cobble stones, mewling out its stilted melody.

Her errands take her to different reaches of the city. She has an allowance for cab fare and train rides, but likes to walk; it's a good way to get to know the city, even if it means setting aside a couple of hours for slower travel. Since signing up with the Personification Initiative, she's been able to earn wages for the first time in her life. Frivolous forays into playing music on the street corners have been exactly that: frivolous. She teaches literacy to adults, those who arrive in Baedal without the necessary skills to survive. She hears about the Spatters, as well, and the House that offers similar services, and occasionally winds up walking those streets, attempting to avoid the ones where it seems like the Fog is thicker than usual.

Food is bought in outdoor markets in early mornings, contributing a little to what she takes from Njoki's pantry. Sometimes she will even sit down somewhere and buy some tea and a muffin and feel incredibly indulgent for it. Clothing is primarily bought from second hand places, judged by its practicality and comfort and whatever aesthetics she's feeling that day. Books are usually borrowed from the Library, dependent on their availability, and usually not for herself, but those she tries to teach. She is not an expert, but knows that people will only do things if they want to do things, and she selects nonfictions of vivid interest, slim short story compilations, things she thinks those she tutors would find interesting.

At night, she sleeps. Sometimes she dreams.

Comments

[cestrumnocturnum]

It's a few shekels amongst another-- few shekels, really. This is not the most profitable way to earn a living, and Benji isn't doing herself many favours by huddling up here on this stoop, more engaged in what she's doing that making it worthy of listening to. But music is music, and the violin can be pretty when you know what to do with it remotely, and she heard that voice, for as long as it lasted.

"Oh, thank you," she says, not quite shy, more demure. She also doesn't get up, content to peer up at Clio, stretching out her fingers as if she'd been tensing them through her playing. The violin is lowered. "Was that you I heard back then?"

[caoineadh]

"Yes, that was me," Assuming that Benji is talking about the singing, since Clio can't think what else it would be, "Sorry if it was rude of me, it's just... been a while. And I liked your music."

She doesn't think there are rules against singing along - unless she'd been trying to steal paying costumers ("paying customers") from Benji - but the apology is there anyway, just in case. She doesn't want to make enemies here.

[cestrumnocturnum]

Benji doesn't appear to be in the market for enemies right now, even if she tends to stare kind of hard and cold even when she doesn't mean to. "It wasn't rude," she says dismisses. "You're very kind to like my music, because it's not very good." She doesn't think so, anyway, but he doesn't know many amateur violinists, as it stands.

She certainly isn't bad. "I was more wondering why you stopped."

[caoineadh]

Clio could say she likes all music (unture, disco is literally the worst thing) but she goes another route, "A little unpractised, maybe, but I think it was still good." And sometimes unpractised is better; Clio tends to prefer more natural performances, rather than fancy, technically good concertos and the like.

The second statement is harder to answer, "I was --" Held captive and had cold iron shoved in her mouth so she couldn't sing, but that's not something she'll discuss with anyone except her close friends, "It's been a while, and it didn't feel right."

She'd tried and failed to find Ilde's lament, and she wonders if she'll have to wait until someone dies for singing to feel right again.

[cestrumnocturnum]

Maybe she's an artist, and that's why it has meaning. Benji would not call herself the same-- she's always felt particularly uncreative in comparison to others-- but can understand sensitivity. She assumes, and she has to assume because asking strangers personal questions is a temptation she tries to avoid, that the woman's vague words speak a little of displacement.

"Well, it was nice of you to share," she says, bending further down to drag closer the open case and collect up the coinage. "Did you used to sing, before here? I don't think I've ever really earned for my music before."

[caoineadh]

"I sung in a punk band, a long time ago," It wasn't really that long ago, but six years feels like a hundred when there's an apocalypse in between. And when she doubts she'll ever see anyone from her old life again. London is a long way away (especially when she can't cross oceans without great difficulty).

"I don't think I earned much for it either, we weren't especially popular," Decent enough, and with a small following, but they never got very big. She wonders if things might've been different in that alternate universe she keeps hearing about.