|Sadie Lynn (sirenonstrings) wrote in repose,|
@ 2018-10-05 20:30:00
|Entry tags:||*log, hugh christian, sadie marella|
Who:Jeremiah March and Sadie Marella
What: Sadie goes out busking, meets a new person
Where: The Capitol, Arts and Theatre district
When: Afternoon sometime.
Rating: TBD, presume low, will update as needed
Status: Log, in progress
The dinner had been just the thing Sadie had needed to reset and re-balance herself. A taste of home, a song in her heart, and people who cared for her and felt happy to see her, and even the end of summer couldn't cut the spring in her step. Indeed it was that swell in her chest, the return of her smile, that saw her set out to the Capitol. It would be her first time returning to the busking which had carried her across the country since returning from the trip and, without a doubt, the excitement she always felt about performing in front of people had returned.
It didn't hurt either that the day was bright, one of those last days of the year before the leaves would change when Summer gave its last roar. Her outfit was a reflection of it as well, an embracing of the last of the warm days before sweaters would take the place of T-shirts and skies would turn grey as leaves turned auburn and gold. These, in truth, were her favorite kind of days; when the warmth swung back against the cold, when hands could be left uncovered to feel the breeze roll on them as they moved over strings.
Once she'd picked her spot for the afternoon and set about strapping washers on the bottom of her feet to help with the percussion by way of dancing, she'd just started to play. There hadn't been anything in mind but pouring out notes that might convince the hours to stretch on by way of perfect fifths. They weren't so much songs, but strung together jigs and reels, with her feet scraping out breaks between the notes. It was bouncing notes and fluttering fingers, smiles and laughs, the sound of people clapping and change being thrown into the open case which would earn a flash of bright blues and the mouthed 'thank you'.
She'd find someone, probably another busker who seemed like they'd not had the most profitable of days, and give them the money before she left. It had become her norm since working for the carnival and seeing her needs met, plus she'd been there. She'd had to get by on nothing but her skill with her instrument, but those days were behind her now. Now she had the luxury of playing because she loved to play and nothing more. Now, she wanted to pass along some of that good fortune to others because that was the person she'd become.
Sadie hadn't even noticed the crowd that had gathered, a trait that was atypical of her, as songs began to blend together in a flurry of fingers and feet. She couldn't even really say what had moved her away from pop song covers that people liked to, what was probably, most appropriate piece of classical music there was to play right now.
She rarely touched the classics in public. They were tied to special feelings, emotions she struggled with at times, and those were the very last things she wanted bleeding into the sounds her bow made when put to string. This one though, it carried not a stitch of what she was worried it might. It was clean and pure, filled with warmth and just the right amount of haunting melody. It was an homage to what her summer had been, more than she even realized as she broke into one of the more recognizable movements of the piece and let herself bounce around before the gathered crowd like a dervish made of horse hair and stripes.
While the expression for changing seasons might have been 'In like a lion, out like a lamb', Sadie had no intention of letting go of summer without one last roar.
The applause drew bright blues and the crowd, as it often would, began to disperse when they saw the bow come to rest against the instrument as a sign she was taking a break. Sometimes people lingered, praising and thanking her, even asking questions, and she gave them each a piece of her time. Anyone who looked like they so much had anything to say was not someone she'd ignore. Even so much as a lingering gaze was met with the warmth of her own eyes, an invitation to open ones mouth and let the words come out.