InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "MADRE DE DIOS!"

Andras Caradog Maredudd Eynon (marmotmusician) wrote in snyderville,
@ 2009-12-08 01:37:00

Entry tags:

andras eynon, sierra jimenez

Who: Sierra and Andy
What: A mid-afternoon curbside gig, of course
Where: Monroeville, on a rather quaint corner by a coffee shop with a zombie down the street a ways.
When: ...mid-afternoon. Wanker.
Rating: PG to begin!
Status: Incomplete

For December, the weather wasn't too terribly dreary, and conditions were lending themselves wonderfully to a quick stop in a small town for some music. His fingers were cramping around the steering wheel, protesting after too long a stretch of improper use. These were strumming fingers, Andy! He really needed to remember his own personal limits, lest some sort of coup occur.

He picked a corner, pulled his fedora on to trap his body heat from escaping from his head, and set up his appropriate gear. His guitar came out, the van door was slid shut to keep Pug warm and toasty within, and Andy began the beatific, soulful creation of melody and tune that burned passionate within the ardent chambers of his heart.

Me and my friend Dan are going to get some beers
and then we're going to go down to the park and drink them there.
We'll bask out in the sun, bring a guitar and play some songs,
call up our friends and invite them out to share
what might be the last weekend of existence,
because there's zombies all around this fucking place.

He did not notice how the original lyrics were altered by his own tongue, simply realising that a crowd had yet to form adoringly around him. Andy pursed his lips, studying the empty street directly within his scope of sight. A rather nasty creature was twitching along in the distance, but that nutter was heading the wrong way. Besides, Andy was no longer in the business of playing for zombies. Other than that one jerking mess of meat, Andy's choice location was empty. Barren. A wasteland of lost souls trapped without music and without care!

Andy battled through a setlist anyway, rather mindless about it, if one was to be particularly frank. T'was depressing, having not a single audience member. The weather was even too chilly for Pug to join him with his ferret leash secured around a sign post or some such.

Thus, the Bloodhound Gang, indie acoustic-style.

Sweat baby, sweat baby
Sex is a Texas drought
Me and you do the kind of stuff
That only Prince would sing about
So put your hands down my pants and...

...Andy spotted a girl, grinning pleasantly when he noticed she had all of her vital parts in order and was not moaning for a romp with his skull contents. He turned to face her as she approached, strumming skillfully in her direction as his song of choice took a charmingly calculated turn.

Rivers carve the country, a landscape shaped by a stream,
so I will swim in the river as long as you need.
Darling oh my darling you know that everything that I do
is to try and make me good enough for you.

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breezingonby
2009-12-09 01:33 am UTC (link)

Catching sight of herself in the storefront window right before her image was obscured by a flier for a church potluck (all you need is a casserole and the Holy Spirit!), Sierra backpedaled until her face was once more staring back at her. Leaning closer, she eyed a smudge in her lipstick and brought her hand up to smooth it out, hesitating as she looked for any other imperfections. Nodding once in satisfaction, she leaned back and ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out until it fanned around her shoulders and framed her face, a move not only meant to slake her vanity but to provide some coverage for the tips of her ears, exposed to the cold as they were. Happy once more, Sierra hefted her earth-friendly canvas bag higher onto her shoulder and with a jaunt in her step and a hum in her... throat, she continued her way back to A Page Turned.

As far as hideaways from flesh-eating zombies went, the bookstore (that Sierra reasoned she was still technically employed at, despite the noticeable lack of paying customers) fit her needs surprisingly well, mainly in that it kept her entertained. Shelves of books, magazines, comics, CDs, and puzzles kept her mind off the turmoil outside and with a little extra reinforcement and a trip to the nearby camping goods store, it was not a terrible fortress. It had only seemed like the logical place to flee to after poor Mr. Carlson took a turn for the worse. What better place to plan your next move than a building where Dr. Seuss was a mere aisle down to administer his own brand of medicine? Sure, occasionally she had to run out for food and other miscellaneous items, but for the most part she was cool just chillin' in one of the comfortable, conveniently placed armchairs designed for your reading pleasure.

That afternoon, however, Sierra decided maybe it was time for a little redecoration. Brighten the place up! Give it some Sierra Flair! This was exactly why she was now walking back to her home away from home with a bag full of The Dollar Store knick-knacks and some canned food she'd stopped to pick up along the way. Retail therapy, man.

It was just as Sierra was turning the corner that she realized that the song she was mindlessly humming along to had changed and the lovely sight of a lone man playing his guitar set the tableau for the following scene. Walking closer, Sierra dismissed the far-off shambler in order to focus all of her attention on the man, smiling back when he turned in her direction and waving in greeting. Upon hearing the lyrics, Sierra laughed in delight and put an exaggerated sashay in her hips right until she stopped in front of him, winking in good humor. Dissolving into applause, her gloved hands muffling the sound somewhat, an idea struck her and she paused her clapping to reach up and pluck one of the plastic flower bouquets she'd found at the store from her bag. Throwing it at this musically-inclined stranger, she exclaimed, "Brava!"

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marmotmusician
2009-12-09 04:28 am UTC (link)

Was a glorious thing, women. He'd every tool in his bag of tricks to get such a point across with the paintbrush flourish of a master artist, but Andy was an odd one. His preferences branched across every shape, size, color and creed, and such a broad selection of beauty just made the words a bit harder to get out sometimes. Especially when zombies were toddling along down the road and he was mildly concerned with Pug's general state of warmth.

Ah, but he received a flower toss, so he supposed his choice song had done its job. He smiled once more and thanked the inventor of the guitar strap, as this fine gent allowed him to release his instrument and suavely catch the bouquet before it could approach the cold, desolate slab of paved earth he was standing upon.

Plastic flowers in hand, guitar wound securely around his chest, Andy thought it appropriate to bow to his audience of one. His flowered mitt marked the end of his outstretched right arm, his left gripping his hat to tip it as any gentleman should. Terrible idea, very likely, his curls known to spring forth with astounding determination if left to their own devices without regular shearing, but Andy was often without reason at the very moment he was with charm. He glanced up while still bent in his stoop, cheeks all a'dimpled with mystery and mischief. "Grazie, bella."

His Italian was best left at just such a simple saying, so Andy returned to his full height, still finding ample reason to stretch his lips in an upward curve of joy. At last, someone who understood the spirit of his craft! And that toddling zombie had disappeared into the horizon, which added another ZombieBuck to his count. Forty-nine! Oh, he'd forever attribute that to her.

"Someone must adore me if they put you in my path," he said, cheesy as ever, and rather typically without a care. "I'm Andy. And you're called?" Andy paused, squinting into the dark abyss of linguistic differences that separated him from a true Texan. "Named. What're you named? Miss. Hm."

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breezingonby
2009-12-13 12:17 am UTC (link)

His choice song had certainly done its job. Truth be told, Sierra didn't require a lot, in general. A tone deaf accordion player would still garner some positive attention from her as long as the music came from a place of joy. If someone was trying to apply themselves to something it shouldn't go unnoticed, after all! To give her a guitar player with a voice, mix in some lyrics and a little bit of intent, however, and true excitement was sparked, cheeks were lit aglow with pleasure, and a touch of rightness came back to her world. What a lucky day!

The catching of the plastic bouquet was a smooth touch from this fine gent and Sierra appreciated the effort, unable to help the giggle that escaped her when he bowed. Easily charmed? Check. The appearance of a crop of curls that were trying to climb their way to freedom only to bounce happily in the air once that was achieved and the dimples that punctuated the impishness of his grin simply endeared him to her even more and she reached up to tip an imaginary hat right back at him. Despite the chill in the air, the bleakness of the empty streets, she found herself relaxing into a comfortable mellow yellowness, like a stick of butter left on a hot stove. Without all the mess, of course, because it was metaphorical.

"Thank you. You're very sweet," she said graciously, complimentary words like little Hershey kisses to her soul. When he continued, Sierra tried to place that accent of his (it was quite unique, wasn't it?), shifting her bag a little to relieve some of the pressure on her shoulder and waiting for him to finish with a lingering smile on her face. Sometimes people just had to try things out a bit, is all, and she was happy to give him a moment. Her smile back in full force once he finished, she replied, "Hello, Andy! My name is Sierra. People usually call me Sierra, too. You can, of course. I can't tell you how lovely that was. Not many people would brave the..." Here Sierra had to pause, not quite sure how to continue. It had been a while since she'd met anyone new. Were zombies considered polite conversation nowadays? Deciding to err on the side of caution, she waved a hand in the direction their zombie had just disappeared to and continued with a rueful smile, "Elements. Not many people would brave the 'elements' like this."

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marmotmusician
2009-12-18 05:59 am UTC (link)

His song? His song? Oh, but here was this creature, this angel, parting her lips to let out warm easy honey with each word, each flick of tongue, each breath! His own words, even the lyrics ripped torturously from his very core, adopted the significance of the mundane once she showed her earthly roots and proved that he was not simply imagining her.

As thoughts of romance and brilliant guitar riffs swirled in his foggy mind, Andy's grin took a dopey turn, assuming a crooked, pleased stance typically seen only when drugs were present. He had no reason to complain, of course. The man had no idea what was going on, something rather distinctive in his world. "Usually?" he asked, still basking in the warmth of simple pleasures, introductions and the like. "What are you called unusually?" He didn't suppose that would count as prying.

The man, in his own defense, was still distracted by the melody of her voice. Andy rarely heard a voice he didn't like, but that lilt of husky femininity that somehow wove its way into the voice of every woman he ever met was enchanting, no matter how many times he crashed into that particular wall of captivation. He let out a hum, absently spinning his hat before flicking it to land where it rightly belonged. "Creepy crawlies aren't enough to curb my craving for the road. Ah, I've played myself straight into a web of my own making. Why escape, s'what the truth is."

Then a bit of sociability finally kicked in. "Aye...um. What's it tugging you from your own comfortable elements? If it's not beyond my place to ask, mind."

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breezingonby
2009-12-20 01:11 am UTC (link)

Gazing at his face as she was, Sierra didn't miss the soft transformation, the mischief of his grin gentling into something easier. Amidst a brief, not especially vivid flashback to her trip to Berkeley that one time, though she wasn't quite sure if the circumstances were exactly one and the same, the cold became a secondary concern as she was slowly embraced by a warmth that had nothing to do with how nippy the air was and everything to do with finding herself in the company of someone so pleasant. How lucky was she to meet such a soul during a time when she was really more likely to meet someone without a soul altogether!

"Well, unusually," Sierra started, tilting her head a bit in thought. What a wonderful question! With a light smile that was just dancing on the edge of pleased laughter, she straightened once more and began. "Miss Jimenez. Sierra Luciana when I forget to call my mother. I get Sienna, sometimes. You. Miss. That girl. Anything anyone can think up, I suppose. I'm not too particular."

Glancing at his hat when it was perched atop his head once more, she paused for a moment as she imagined Andy on his travels. As he marked the landscape with his presence, gifting those areas where he chose to stop with some of the life that had been taken from it, infusing the air with a reminder of the human spirit. Hoping that her sincerity rang through her words, she said, "I think that's wonderful. If you find fulfillment and happiness doing what you've been doing. If ever there was a time to follow your bliss it's now, yeah?"

His question brought her out of her daydream and reminded her that she'd had a reason for leaving the safety of the bookstore in the first place, other than the cosmic one that had clearly led her to meet Andy. Patting the bag nestled against her side, she said with a happy grin, "I've been thinking about giving my stronghold a makeover. It has been so kind as to shield me from danger, I figure I should be kind enough to help it express its personality a bit better. You can only stare at posters with Einstein quotes on them for so long before you want to shake things up, anyway. I just needed a few things." Bringing her hand up to tease her hair a bit, she added a bit distractedly, "Oh, and food. Peaches for your awfully kind service?"

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marmotmusician
2009-12-24 04:13 pm UTC (link)

He was drawing a glowing, horrifying blank as to the meaning of Sierra, but he gave a small cheer with Luciana. He knew that one. As much as he knew anything these days, anyway. Nothing to base a dissertation on, but rocky logic never bothered Andy much. "Oh, that's Latin, yeah? Light. Glorious!"

Overexcitement always at the cusp of becoming reality, Andy moved on, still chipper and smiling after the flexing of his intellectual muscles. He had no idea how this little factoid tied into any current topics at hand. "A calling's a calling. Even a bitty one yelping like a mouse." And with that, he gave his guitar a lazy strum, which actually worked a lot better than one might've thought, adding a flash of his skill to prove some odd little point. Andy didn't notice, but someone in the cosmos probably did.

He perked with the mention of personality and food.

"You won't mind terribly if I share with Pug, will you?" he asked, turning his attention to the sidewalk, the stop sign, the street. "I left him just th−" Andy said, adopting a sweeping expression of I could've sworn... before he grinned and looked back towards Sierra. "That's right," he happily recalled. "He's in the van. Toasty little bugger, that one. Doesn't appreciate how the cold smells."

And then he hopped to action, ducking out from the strap of his guitar to rest it lovingly back in its case. "Like to meet him? I suppose he'd be glad to see something besides my frightful face." All the while forgetting entirely, of course, that his angel of the afternoon knew nothing of Pug's general existence, let alone his tangible animal form. He started towards his extravagant van.

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breezingonby
2009-12-25 02:05 am UTC (link)

"Yes! Light. That's absolutely right," Sierra fairly chirped, enthusiasm like little butterfly's wings fluttering in her chest. Some might say that her excitement at this little comment was a touch inappropriate, but that small corner of her mind that always perked up when the person she was talking with mentioned something about her, specifically, had come to attention and, really, what could she do. Impressed with the trick he'd just pulled out of his hat, she asked, "What does Andy mean?" A thought struck just then, one that made her smile. "Or are you trying to make your very own, original imprint on the name?"

That flash of previous pep quickly mellowing out, Sierra hummed in agreement, the imagery of his words making her laugh. Still smiling, she closed her eyes as she listened to his impromptu, rather brief concert, the music expanding in the air only to quietly fade away. Opening her eyes, she was a bit more thoughtful than before. "I think if you can hear it calling, it was meant for you. Even if it's a bitty one yelping like a mouse, exactly."

Suddenly aware that, somewhere around here, there was another being entirely with his mention of this Pug fellow, Sierra was both happily surprised that there was another living creature around and vaguely embarrassed that she hadn't thought to ask. Who was she to assume that Andy didn't have a traveling companion? Maybe he even had several! Following his lead, she looked around, trying to see whatever it was he was looking for. It was between studying the stop sign and looking out at the street that she thought to answer his question. "Of course I wouldn't mind. We all deserve to eat, after all." Meeting his eyes when he looked back at her, she smiled, game for most anything.

Raising her eyebrows at the sudden flurry, she took in his next words, not quite sure if she should be amused or bemused. Finally deciding that there was a good chance that she was feeling both and it certainly wasn't terrible, she shook her head with a laugh and took a couple of quick strides to catch up with him. Once by his side, she reached out to poke his arm, to better punctuate her following statement. "Your face is not frightful. I'd like to meet him, but will... Pug? Mind you bringing someone back?"

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marmotmusician
2009-12-28 10:19 pm UTC (link)

Andy smirked, which could be rather unsettling on some people, but with his cheeriness of face and eyes, there was opportunity to get away with it. He didn't intend to be creepy anyways. He just thought his name was a funny topic. "Means 'man,' if you'd believe it. Or 'warrior,' also worthy of a snigger or two. Sounds rather formidable until you notice the frothing curls and general oddities." Smirk went into a smile, and all was back to usual.

"What I've come to realize is that a good selection of people fit their names in some way, even if they want to make some grand...sweeping...hm. Impression on the world. Maybe it's like people growing old to look like their pets or some such. Someone should conduct a study."

And then he hummed a random bar, squinting this way and that because he'd forgotten where his large, elaborately-painted van was. Somehow. Despite having been staring at it just a moment earlier as he walked. "Pug, Pug, Pug...hm. Do you − ah, there! Found it!" Always excited, ever scatterbrained, Andy thrust a finger forward to point and then grinned at his companion. "Pug loves all. He's very Zen. Good spirit, all that. He'll welcome you with open...ness. Openness."

Open arms? Really Andy?

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breezingonby
2009-12-29 09:41 pm UTC (link)

"Is that right? Man. Huh," Sierra mused. Straight and to the point, which she could certainly appreciate. Not that she could really say she knew much about Andy, this cheerful stranger that she'd only met a few minutes ago, but she could, ah, see how it fit him. This 'warrior' element, though, was something she found quite fantastic, a bit swept up in the picture of Andy, dressed in the armor of the old-world, fighting the dark forces with only his guitar and trusty sidekick Pug. Tickled pink by the thought, she said, "Oh, I don't know. I can see it. I think I'd like your version more than the others, to be honest."

Food for thought, that was. Tilting her head back, she gave Andy's theory a go, trying to figure out where exactly it fit into her own thought process. The soft jolts of her footsteps nary a blip on her radar, she narrowed her eyes in contemplation. "I hadn't ever realized it before, but I can see the truth in that. I wonder why that is." Shrugging, she tilted her head back to its upright and locked position. "My dad is friends with a math professor. I wonder if she would be interested in helping with that study. Statistics of some sort would probably be involved, right?" Ignoring the possibility that her dad's friend might have already been munched on by a zombie all the while, of course.

It was then, as she followed the yellow brick road as it was represented by Andy's pointing finger, that she came across a vision the likes of which she was quite sure had never graced Monroeville ever before. No, in place of the usual four door sedans and good ol' pickup trucks, there was a van so gloriously painted she had to blink once to make sure that all of those skittles and starbursts that she'd indulged in the past month were not, indeed, making her ~Tasssssste The Rainbow~. Stepping down off the curb, the only thought running through her mind 'Oh, God, color', she managed to pull enough concentration together to reply in the most absent manner, "Openness. Of course. I'll do the same. Right. This is your van?"

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