one, i'm still sleeping, and this, i'm just dreaming it [open]

[goodweather]

Who: Phil and you!
Where: All around the ship
What: Exploring, orienting, experimenting
When: Early June
Warnings: None yet


(( ooc: a note before you read, if you haven't seen phil's ooc post, please keep in mind that he's a CRAU! mostly this means that he has a big pair of eastern screech owl wings stuck to his back. ok bye <3 ))

three, it's flashback from when i was twenty and ate magic mushrooms (meta)
So.

He's been spirited away. It's not the same as the last time this happened. The last time, it was a whole alien planet with a whole entire city--multiple cities, actually, and he could actually arrange his whole housing, get a job, get insurance, the whole shebang. He built a whole new life that lasted for about six months before the Magic Moon Apocalypse kicked in. It's also different than the longest day of his life.

This, though unlike the others, bears similarities to both of those things: first, in all three, death was never permanent (though in the second it had consequences). Second, like the last one, people from other realities have gotten pulled into the fray.

He doesn't know what that means. It's something he'll need to get a bigger sample size for before he can draw any real conclusions on it, and he doesn't really want to.

i. four, it's some kind of reality show

[ Knowing that this isn't a real vacation, and dubiously confident that the captain(?) here will do any actual announcements about inclement weather or that there is any crew that is both capable of reading and keeping an eye on weather maps, Phil has decided to put his skills to use. The bridge is completely locked off, meaning he can't access any of the actual, professional forecasting equipment. Meaning he has had to make do.

He's perched on the highest deck on the edge of a rooftop, dead center of the ship to minimize the rocking. In front of him his a collection of items that he's had to reach into the farthest recesses of his memories of middle school earth science experiments to construct:

- A barometer made of an upside down wine bottle in a glass, filled with some water and marked up with sharpie.
- An anemometer made of plastic straws, paper cups, rubber bands, and a pencil.
- A wind vane made of plastic straws and cut-up postcards. This and the anemometer are both stuck into one of those plastic cups with the lids and filled with water, just so they're reasonably anchored in place.

All of this, plus a fridge magnet thermometer and a compass keychain. They're cheap shit, but it's all he's got. He's been checking on these things for the last three hours. Occasionally he'll mark something down in one of those cheesy notepads with a Serena Eterna brand pen, but every reading has been the... exact same. It's only three hours, not the biggest timeframe, but still... ]

ii. five, it's amnesia

[ Music has always made him feel better.

He doesn't have his sheet music with him, which is kind of a pain, because that's part of what he finds so comforting about it. Not too much improvisation; everything he's being asked to do, laid out in detail before him. But that's alright. He'll do just fine.

So he sets up. After the Billy Joel set in John's, Phil sets up and dinks around on the keys a little bit, warming up his stiff, weathered fingers. He knows he's in a public place. He knows that practicing and warmups never sound pleasant. He doesn't care.

After about fifteen minutes, he picks something and starts to play. ]

iii. six, it's a stroke (wildcard)

[[ Got anything else? hmu! ]]

Comments

I

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Trapped in a ship that's smaller by the square footage than some neighbourhoods in her city, there's few places Darcy can go that doesn't have people. The rooftops is usually one of them, as she shimmers up in the shadow of one of the tall pole-thingies she didn't know the name of. Someone else up here would usually be a sign for her to leave the same way she came, but the owl wings are familiar, and Phil wasn't the worst company. Nearly-silently, she came to sit herself beside him, legs folded neatly underneath her. ]

What's with the straws and shit?

[goodweather]

Jesus—!

[ Phil startles and drops his pen. He turns to see Darcy having suddenly appeared next to him, and wipes a hand down his face as his feathers smooth back down. ]

First of all, please don’t do that, [ he says as he quietly tallies this as a habit she’s probably going to continue. ] Second, they’re forecasting instruments. Or what I could make of them anyway.

[ He gestures to each as he talks. ] Atmospheric pressure. Wind speed. Wind direction. Last two’s self explanatory. It’s not perfect, but any real onboard equipment’s in the bridge, and it’s been locked every time I checked.

[saltwaterlungs]

Wasn't doing it on purpose, pay more attention to your surroundings, [ She deadpans. Darcy glances over the equipment, squinting at it as he speaks, then at the end she raises a hand to pause him. ]

You know the Captain is in the bridge, right? The asshole keeping us here? It's important to me that you know that.

[ She's not gonna blame him for staring death in the face for more information, but she wants to make sure he knows what he's doing when he does it. She glances over his notes, ]

I don't know what the numbers mean, but it doesn't look like they're changing.

[goodweather]

Yeah, I know. That's what a bridge is for.

[ While he's been given the sort of loose rundown of the idea that the man would make for extraordinarily shitty and vaguely unsafe company, no, Phil has no clue of any of the real points of what makes the Captain dangerous. Nothing beyond "he's the guy who brought us here and traps us here." ]

They're not. I mean, it's not as if these things are that accurate-- [ hell, the way he's getting readings off of the anemometer is by tapping a beat into his metronome app by how many times the red cup makes a full revolution and seeing what BPM comes up, ] --but... yeah. I know it's only been three hours, but there should probably still be some variance, especially over the ocean. The wind vane hasn't even changed. It keeps pointing southwest. I'll keep checking tomorrow, but...

[saltwaterlungs]

It's probably not going to change, if it isn't already. The Captain is... lazy. I don't think he thinks about how things work. You know there's no plumbing in here? The taps and drains don't go anywhere. And the temperature's been about the same since I showed up here.

[ Darcy restrained the urge to fiddle with the instruments. They were spinny, she wanted to spin them more. ]

ii

[millay]

[Maeve is getting a feel for new places, new people. So far, she hasn't heard anything outside of the Billy Joel music from John's. She's wandering by when she hears something new. It's not familiar, which gives her pause and she stops just inside the door. For the first time someone is actually playing. She notes the wings. Curious.

She's quiet for a while, but she does move inside and take a seat so she can better listen. She's done her best not to be noticed. In case this wasn't meant to be viewed.

Once the music stops, she claps politely.]

Well played, darling.

[goodweather]

[ If he had it his way, he would be somewhere more private, but he doesn't get to be picky about his venues in a place like this. He can't possibly expect that nobody will be there by the time he finishes.

And there is someone. A very polite-looking woman had apparently come in at some point and he hadn't particularly noticed, wrapped up in performing as he was--but she's here now, and speaking to him.

He turns to her and gives a little half-bow from where he's seated. ] Thanks. I used to play onstage a lot, but not in the past few years. Stopped when I moved.

[ That is, he used to spend every night as keyboardist for the Punxsutawney Band at the Groundhog Day Banquet and only stopped when the clock finally ticked over to February 3rd. All the same to him, though. ]

[millay]

[She smiles as he bows, listening for a moment for any coding. There is none, but she's less surprised to find herself surrounded by...others. She's not sure he's human given the wings. She's never seen one with wings. Still, it's hard not to be a little uncertain with most others.]

We had a piano at the Mariposa. It was... [She pauses, considering the words for a moment] Something similar to the old saloons in the old west. So I'm told.

[The lie is enough truth to get her through, but she wonders how long the lie will last.]

Is that a favorite of yours? The song you just played?

[goodweather]

[ He inclines his head slightly as she talks. He's never heard of the Mariposa. He knows the actual word, of course, but it's clearly some kind of Place. A building, maybe an establishment. Maybe a ship like the one they're on now. ]

It is. [ Phil rests a hand on the keys. ] I like to play a lot of jazz, tend to go for the more upbeat stuff, but I guess I needed a quieter night. Something to de-stress, y'know? Can never go wrong with Thelonius Monk anyway.

[millay]

[The Mariposa is, as far as Maeve knows, just a part of her world, but it felt like her home for so long. She did run it after all. But she doesn't explain much about the brothel that existed once upon a time. If he asks, she may, but she's hesitant to reveal too much too soon.]

I understand. [But not who Thelonius Monk is.] I never learned to play. But I feel I would lean towards the more somber music. I can appreciate the upbeat, however. [She mostly remembers rowdy cowboys singing various songs. Strangely she can't remember the titles or the words.]

ii.

[gapmoe]

[ truth to be told, ingo is not the biggest fan of bars or clubs. however, it does seem as if something different is taking place at john's tonight. something pleasant and soothing.

and to think that it's none other than phil playing the piano! that makes the surprise of it better still, hence why ingo is, for once, careful not to make too much noise as he settles down off to the side of the stage to listen in. one mustn't disturb a man who is in the middle of performing, after all.

as soon as phil finishes playing the song, ingo offers him a round of very enthusiastic applause...

along with a loud hearty: ] Bravo! Wonderful!

[goodweather]

[ He did hear someone come in, and he heard whoever it was settle close--not that he paid them too much mind, concerned as he was with playing and not willing in that moment to engage in acknowledging another person. As quickly as he registered their entrance, he's back to losing himself in the piece. In the notes. In the keys and the pedal and the hammers, in the quietness of the night.

Which, as soon as the last of it finishes ringing out, is promptly shattered.

He turns around with a sort of stressed confusion, which settles as he immediately pinpoints and recognizes Ingo, which contextualizes the volume. Okay, yeah, his speaking voice was already kind of loud, so okay, go figure. (And even with such avid applause, he's still so stern... it's a bit confusing, but his voice and his actions are so enthusiastic, Phil's willing to just take him at his word.) ]

Ah--thank you, uh, thanks. [ He talks in a low and even voice in the hopes that Ingo might eventually tone it down a little bit to match. He's just not in a loud sounds mood, is all. ] Nice to see you again. Those shirts treating you well?

gently handwaves introductions we haven't reached yet

[gapmoe]

[ at first, he's a little surprised at the air of stress to phil's movements— but ingo is not entirely blind to his own lack of volume control, not when the mannerisms of someone he's focused on convey with such clarity that he might have spoken too loudly yet again.

hence, he looks just the slightest bit embarrassed, almost as if trying to make himself a little smaller in his seat. with both hands on his knees, loosely curled into fists and bunched in the fabric of his slacks.

when he speaks up again, it is indeed softer. he has kind of a pleasant, light voice as long as he isn't yelling every word. ]

Likewise, Phil. It was a pleasant surprise to come across you. [ and he means that. ] I cannot complain.

[ actually, he can. because this ship is A Lot. but he doesn't.

what he says next comes with slightly raised volume, because it's something that just happens when ingo gets excited about things. ]

Your skills were most impressive!

[goodweather]

Thanks. I practice a lot.

[ He sees the way the other man seems to fold in on himself a little, so Phil steps down from the piano chair to sit at the edge of the stage, putting them at a bit more face height; hopefully that will make things a little more casual. ]

I didn't really get to bring any of my sheet music with me, but I think I figured it out.

[gapmoe]

[ funnily enough, despite the stony face, ingo is quite expressive in how he perks back up once the tracks seem clear of obstruction. like a beanstalk going from wilted to thriving. in fact, he leans forward with eagerness to convey his appreciation. ]

You most certainly did! I can tell you must have spent many hours honing your skills.

ii

[firewalled]

[Rich may not have the talent for piano, but he can certainly recognize when someone has skills. He has enough of an ear for music that he'd probably pick out a misplaced note in a piece more often than not just based on what sounds right.

He can't find anything wrong with this piece. It's flowing, relaxing, warm in all the right ways. He doesn't intend to linger, but he takes a seat, resting his head in his hand with a soft smile.

...He misses playing his guitar, suddenly. He hasn't touched it in a year at least, but suddenly he wants nothing more than to pick it up again.

When the man seems to be finished, Rich offers up some polite applause.]

Definitely better than Piano Man for the hundredth time. You a performer?

[goodweather]

[ Phil hears a teenager. He turns towards the voice and--hesitates for a moment, as he sees how scarred up the kid is, and the fact that all that gnarly stuff is on a kid. To his credit, he moves past it pretty smoothly and gives him an even smile. One of the rules of courtesy: never mention anything that someone can't fix in a few seconds. Usually that applies to stuff like pimples, but he's pretty sure this counts too. ]

Hey, thanks. I used to do it a lot, but I stopped in the last couple of years after I moved. Kept practicing, so I was still playing, just not as much.

[ He dances out a few notes across the keys. ] Good to know I still got it.

[firewalled]

[Rich isn't going to comment on the guy's giant wings, so... no point bringing up how scarred he is, really. It's bound to be a sore subject, based on the way even that brief hesitation makes a flicker of nerves cross the boy's face. When they move on, his smile returns, and he listens eagerly.]

That's really cool. I used to play guitar, actually. Stopped a year or two ago too, but I was never good enough to get a gig.

[He snorts.] Or maybe that's more to do with the fact that no one's gonna hire a teenager.

[goodweather]

[ Phil smirks and raises an eyebrow like, uh, yeah, whaddya think? It's all in good fun, though.

And of course, he makes a note to not bring up the scarring. Kid definitely gets enough shit for it as it is. ]

Probably something more like that. Anyway, you got all the time in the world while you're here, right? If you can find a guitar, I don't see the harm in brushing up a little bit.

[ Take advantage of the things still in your control. Keeps you sane. ]

[firewalled]

[Someone in this cruise ship is actually smart then... Rich is very relieved their conversation seems pretty average right now.]

Yeah. Just the problem is finding one. Apparently, we can get random gifts from that faceless lady, so maybe she'll pick one up for me, but I definitely haven't seen one around in any of the stores.

If I do, though, we're like halfway to a band, right? [Phil is not gonna be in a rock band with a kid.]

ii

[ossie_oswald]

[ Oswald managed to find the piano in John's upon his arrival, and he intends on using it to manage his Clarity while he's here. Something solid, something to keep his hands occupied, something to quiet his mind. Naturally he's somewhat surprised to see someone else there already, and more surprised to hear him playing piano that isn't Billy Joel or an attempt at something like 'chopsticks'. It's lovely, and he can feel his mantle bloom in admiration. Oswald leans against the bar with his eyes half-shut, just listening. When there's enough of a pause to speak, he remarks- ]

I say, you're really doing justice to that tune, old chap. I just love Thelonious Monk. Always a pleasure to hear the old ivories tickled with some skill.

[goodweather]

[ ... Wow, did this guy step straight out of a 1930s radio show or something?

Regardless, here's a soul who actually recognizes the piece. Phil finds himself a little warmed for that fact alone. ]

Ah--thank you. [ He nods gratefully. ] I practice a lot. Or I try to, anyway. Always have to work to find the time, eh?

[ossie_oswald]

Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? I always tell my students, the only thing that will get you to improve is making time for practice. But I rather think many of them started lessons envisioning they'd be playing Chopin off the bat, rather than weeks of drilling scales and chords, wot.

[ Oswald laughs, light and musically. ]

Still, one must take time for one's joys in life, wot? It's the whole point of life, to find what makes one happy and to do it. No sense whittling away your days on work without leisure to make it worthwhile. That's what I say, in any case- can I get you a drink, old thing?

[goodweather]

Isn't it? It's all we can do, to make our own joy. Good company, good food, and something nice to keep the hands busy.

[ Good company, good food, and good jokes, really, but good work is important too. So much of life puts in all this effort to make it all so hard to get. Why play into it, if you can help it? ]

Uh--oh, sure, if you don't mind. I'll have a Jim Beam straight up.

[ He'd insist to pay for his own, too, but there's zero money here, so whatever. As Ossie's busying himself with that, Phil's stepped down to join him at the bar so they can sit and have a more proper chat. ]

You said you're a music teacher?

[ossie_oswald]

I'll drink to that, [ Ossie beamed impossibly wide. If they ever got out of here again, this fellow would do wonderfully in Spring. Oswald orders the Jim Beam, opting for a lighter Japanese whiskey for himself over ice. ]

Too many people seem to think it's frivolous, that life could be lived just as easily without material pleasures. That it's 'soft' to pursue joy. Few people know how difficult it really is to know what one wants and to pursue it. If it were so damn easy, we'd all be happy as Larry. It's always a relief to find someone who feels similarly.

[ He sips his whiskey, holding it on his tongue for just a moment, eyes shut. Then returns to the conversation with the same perfectly easy smile. ]

Oh, occasionally, mostly for passion more than anything else. I teach piano and occasionally I play the same for musical productions- little ones, nothing too impressive. What about you? How do you spend your time?