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Tweak says, "That's what you think..."

Simon will just LIVE in this booth forever. (magienoir) wrote in yegods,
@ 2012-07-16 12:53:00

Entry tags:

!log, simon renaud, sydni rorkov

Summertime.

WHO Sydni Rorkov & Simon Renaud
WHERE Books Beneath the Bridge
WHEN July 16th, 2012, Evening
RATING PG
SUMMARY Sydni's spider senses are tingling.
STATUS Complete

New York City is a wealth of cultural opportunities come summer. From concert series to outdoor festivals to screenings in the parks across the city, one can't really complain about a lack of things to do. One can complain about a lack of people to do things with. Jackson has been a bit mum lately. Simon can only assume Sunny is the cause. Luz can't go anywhere at night. And, of course, Daisuke is still in DC. So Simon has had to fall back on some older ties - college friends - to fill his hours. They don't fill them quite as enjoyably as Daisuke does, but at least, it's better than sitting at home, counting the hours. So when he got a text about coming out to a free reading in Brooklyn on Monday night, he figured, why not? Worse that could happen is that it's boring, and they leave early to hit some dive bar. Though he doubts it can be too boring. History, he thinks, is usually reasonably interesting, and New York in the 30s is sure to have some curious factoids to hear.

So here he is, manning their picnic blanket and the bottles of white wine they've put in other less conspicuous bottles, while his cohorts seek out a restroom. It's all well and good. The reader is decent, and as he suspected, the content has some interesting stuff to impart. Still, he finds that the wine is making him feel a little sleepy, and by the time his friends return, he's thinking he needs to have a walk, or he really is going to fall asleep. Passing off the baton, but not leaving his bottle behind, he gets up and wanders between the people assembled - some sitting straight on the grass, some with foldable chairs, and others with blankets, like his party. The maze of people is a little hard to parse in a tipsy state, but he's not so far gone that he can't manage it, though he does feel annoyed that he has to make an actual effort to do so.

He stops at the outskirts of the gathering, stretching his arms over his head. He's felt various buzzings of magic throughout the evening, which doesn't surprise him, though he hasn't really tried to seek out the sources. Still, it seems like the kind of thing that a lot of Arts Guild regulars would be into, and it's not that far from the Catacombs. However, as he pops his shoulders, he realizes that he's feeling magic very close to him, and so he turns his head, trying to see who it is, since it doesn't really take a lot of effort from this distance to do so.

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motherstouch
2012-07-17 12:13 am UTC (link)

Sydni was enjoying what the city had to offer. This first summer here, taking a break from classes, allowed her to find a good number of programs and events for families and kids. Next summer, if she decided to go ahead and teach summer classes, she'd have an idea of plenty of things Lex could do to entertain himself. This week and next, he was at an art camp offered at one of the local schools, and that meant Sydni had days to herself to write or simply enjoy herself. And today, she had been drawn to the Books Beneath the Bridge event for many of the same reasons, although her bottle held nothing alcoholic.

The brunette, too, had noticed the buzzing of other demigods in the area, but unlike Simon, she did try to locate them, which was almost futile in the dense group of people. However, when she feels the tingle originating from Simon, she quickly notices and recognizes him. Surprised to find a familiar face, she smiles and heads over.

"Simon! It's a surprise to see you here. I didn't expect to run into anyone I knew," she explained.

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magienoir
2012-07-17 01:52 am UTC (link)

Simon is turned in exactly the wrong direction to spot her, but her voice leads him the right way again. It takes him a second to recognize her, but eyes that electric blue are pretty rare, so it really is only a second before he smiles a little, mouth bunching in the right corner more than the left and making his dimple crease, and gives her a nod, stepping towards her. "Sydni, it's good to see you," he replies. He doesn't know her quite well enough to kiss her on the cheek, but he does hold out a hand to shake hers, if she so desires. "It's a fair crowd. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you in it - English professor, am I correct?" he asks, tilting his head before taking a little drink from his bottle of wine.

"How have you been?" he asks, glancing around to see if her son is around, but this might be a liiiiittle dry for a kid that age. "Do you get to have the entire summer off? Or do you have to teach summer classes?" he asks, searching around for a post or something that they can comfortably lean on. "I've sometimes thought about being a teacher, just based on that, but then... I'm also European, and five weeks mandatory holiday and all that."

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motherstouch
2012-07-17 03:20 am UTC (link)

The French were so much friendlier than Americans. Americans offered handshakes, while French people kissed. Sydni did know that, but she wouldn't have thought of it, not when she was in her own country. So, she took his hand, a little surprised at the formal gesture since it wasn't their first meeting, but happy to return it. "Yes, I am," she answered with a nod for emphasis.

"I've been well," she answered, though there was briefly a distracted look on her face - that wasn't entirely true, but she didn't really know Simon well enough to talk about her sudden loss of the Russian language and the pain it caused her. Still, she wasn't distracted enough to miss his glance and she smiled. "Lex isn't here - it's a bit dull for a young boy," she explained. "He's at an art camp for two weeks. Just during the day. It breaks up his summer to have a few of those camps to go to, and it gives me time to write... Or enjoy a day to myself," she added with a smile.

"Oh, well, this year I took the summer off. Usually I do teach the summer semester, but..." Sydni paused. "It's our first summer here, and I wanted to be home with him." When Simon talked about teaching, she looked very interested and a bit eager. Sydni loved teaching. Chuckling, she said, "Most teachers I know need the summer off. It's strange but... I always feel like I'm on a stage, performing when I'm teaching. Like there's never a minute of down time - the spotlight is on me. And I have to fill that space of time with this... sometimes improvised script. So, there's a lot of pressure?" The brunette paused as she thought of the right word. "Demand," she settled on. "The summer off is almost a necessity."

Sydni had been so busy talking, she hadn't noticed the intuitive sense prickling at the edge of her mind, now that she was quiet, though, she realized she was getting one of those feelings and furrowed her brow as she tried to both listen to Simon and tune in to her gift.

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magienoir
2012-07-17 03:23 pm UTC (link)

"Art camp," Simon repeats, turning it over in his head. It's one of those aspects of Americana that's a little foreign to him. He never went to any camp during summer. His grandparents kept him busy, yes, but it was lessons, not a camp - swimming, violin, piano, and even some dance and drawing. So somewhat like an art camp, he supposes, but maybe not. In general, his vision of 'camp' tends to run alone the lines of a group of ragtag, socially awkward boys who must join together to fulfill some sort of sports-related quest or take down a bully. He imagines art camp would be nicer than that, though. Less having to deal with spider-filled boats and archery and sweaty hikes and horses (ugh horses). "Does he like it?" he asks after a moment, pale eyes turning back to Sydni.

He quietly surveys her. His impression of her to date is that she is almost painfully shy, so the idea of her performing in front of a group of people on a daily basis is a little mind-boggling. Then again, she seems to love her subject so intensely, maybe that tears down the walls of anxiety. He thinks he might like giving lectures, though. He likes being looked at, he likes talking, he likes it when people notice how clever he is, and so it seems that if performance is a large aspect of teaching, he imagines he'd like it - at least, the lecture part. Having to read the essays and exams, however, seems tedious. Still, it's something to consider for some later - should he have a later - life pursuit. "That doesn't sound bad," he remarks after a moment.

"It sounds fun. I think I would enjoy it. Perhaps someday, I'll teach history of music. There's so much people don't know about the composers who've written those songs they know so well. I'm especially interested in the biographical data of LGBT composers, as I'm sure you've noticed. I think there could be a lot of interest for something like that."

His eyes flick momentarily to the sky, and a little frown furrows his brow. It's near the new moon, but it isn't quite the new moon yet, and even a sliver of a moon can still produce light if the sky is dark and clear enough. With Daisuke out of town, he has to be careful not to get caught in that situation. He does love going out at night, but it's really only safe indoors. He'll have to probably depart soon, though the sun is still out now. He turns back to Sydni and smiles a little. "What will you be teaching next semester?"

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motherstouch
2012-07-17 09:43 pm UTC (link)

"Well, today was his first day, so we'll see. He did choose it, though, so I'm hoping he does. He likes making things, so I don't think he'll be disappointed," she surmised. Of course, Lex would also be spending a couple of weeks with his grandfather at the end of the summer - and most of that time would be outdoors on the hiking trails and beaches. One, he needed time with his grandfather (just as much as his grandfather needed time with his grandson), and two, it would give Sydni peace and quiet to finish prepping for her classes.

Simon's impression that the brunette was painfully shy was not incorrect. And part of her ability to get past that in the classroom was indeed the love of her subject. However, it was not quite strong enough to breach her timidity when it came to guest lectures or readings. Her publisher had urged her to do readings when her collection was first published, and Sydni had, had to cancel the few she scheduled; the only one she'd actually attempted, she'd ended up vomiting beforehand and then nearly fainting. The publisher decided that could be bad press, much to Sydni's relief.

"Oh! Yes, that's always really interesting. So many kids are so unaware of those famous artists - composers, writers, and so on - who were gay or bi because it's not always covered in the traditional textbooks, and certainly not covered in many public school classrooms. I can't believe the number of my students who are surprised to learn that Shakespeare was definitely bisexual, and may well have been gay. And potentially also pagan," she added as an afterthought.

"It's so sad, though, too, that so many of these great artists suffered from different mental illnesses. I can't decide if it's because so many were trying to live lives outside of what society considers 'normal' or because creative minds are prone to it," she mused. As soon as she said the words, her intuitive feeling grew and she knew that something was not quite right with Simon. The revelation was startling enough that she cast a surprised look at the other demigod before she could compose herself and secure a more pensive look. Should she say anything?

Trying to get back to their conversation and focus on his question, she paused only a moment before answering, "Oh, um... Romantic Era Poets, Poetry 101 and 201, of course... English 101 - not my choice, I assure you, but it's one of those required courses that new teachers have to teach... Literary Nonfiction, Women's Poetry of the 19th Century... And I've left room for some independent studies. I've had some students approach me in the past, and this time I made sure to leave room in my schedule."

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magienoir
2012-07-18 12:45 am UTC (link)

"Nothing is quite as soothing as creating," Simon replies, looking back at her and smiling, though his attention is increasingly on the afternoon light on the buildings across the river. His eyes flick to the sky, finding the white slip of the waning moon there in the pale afternoon blue. He sighs a little. It's not like he was always in danger before Daisuke. In fact, he managed on his own in this city for three years before, but he's grown used to that safety blanket, and he feels bare and vulnerable without it. The worst that could happen is probably what went down last fall outside Mavros's mausoleum - he just sort of passed out in the cemetery and slept there. No, that isn't technically the worst thing. The worst thing could be that he just... doesn't pass out, doesn't snap out of it, doesn't return to himself again, or doesn't for a very long time. He swallows a little roughly. Maybe that's it. It's not just him anymore who stands to lose a great deal from that, but the person he loves best, too.

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a long drink of his wine to steady his nerves. "I'm surprised it isn't just assumed. After all, only men could play women at that time, and I'm certain that with all that brotherhood and gender swapping, a lot of men found themselves getting in touch with their bisexual side. Then again, one would never want to be caught out at it back then..." he trails off. "You should watch 'Stage Beauty,' if you haven't. Deals a little with it, and has two very handsome actors in it." When she starts talking mental illnesses, though, he clams up, his face quite suddenly going neutral and ambiguous. "Yes, there are an unfortunate lot of Hemingways and Rothkos in artistic history... Plenty of Kerouacs and Schumanns." He shrugs, smirking a little. "But I think that whilst there is a link, we can't all be mad and creative. Perhaps often times, it's just the misunderstanding of a creative mind."

He isn't sure if she is aware of his issues. Back in November, he had half-jokingly alluded to 'pleading insanity,' he thinks, though he didn't think anyone had taken him seriously. Of course, now a good number of people know he's Hecate's son, and all one has to do is go to the library to read up about a few of his more infamous siblings to find out that many of them share a very unfortunate curse. He really hopes that if she is trying to work that out of him, she isn't doing it out of pity. He can live without pity. He takes a little breath and forces another smile, realizing he's been brooding over his bottle, eyes fixed on the sunset painted buildings. "Romantic Era poets sounds like a lot of fun. I've always had an especial fondness for Shelley and Hugo, of course, though I prefer his novels to his poetry." He smiles faintly. "J'ai rencontré dans la rue un jeune homme très pauvre qui aimait. Son chapeau était vieux, son habit était usé; il avait les coudes troués; l'eau passait à travers ses souliers et les astres à travers son âme."

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motherstouch
2012-07-18 10:29 pm UTC (link)

Sydni smiled at Simon's observation. She could certainly agree with that - her most peaceful moments were when she was writing. Yes, she enjoyed other beautiful things - sunrises, mountaintop views, poignant moments - but reading and writing beautiful words? That was when her soul seemed to soar. Of course, the brunette was unaware of his predicament with the sun setting. Her intuitions only gave her some insight into what was happening around her.

Again, Sydni had to agree with Simon. "Well, I'm not surprised that people don't make the connection with all male actors, but it's true that it was so much more dangerous, and maybe it's because you have to draw conclusions from his writing and his life in order to understand. It's not just blatantly put out anywhere, though, it is rather obvious to anyone who isn't closed-minded," she agreed. "And I will, thank you." She always enjoyed getting recommendations on movies. Especially if it was something that she might be able to use in a course.

The poet frowned at his next statements because her intuition was giving her a growing sense of doom. She didn't agree that it was often a misunderstanding of the creative mind, since mental illnesses were rather serious, not just little quirks and oddities. It could be a misunderstanding sometimes, but not often. For the life of her, she couldn't really figure out how to ask Simon, or even warn him, about her intuition. It was just so... personal. But if he was suffering from such a problem, she wanted to say something. Maybe he didn't recognize it, or know where to seek help. It isn't pity, but concern.

Before Sydni can settle on what she wants to say, Simon moves to another topic. "Oh yes, the Romantic Era poets are my favorite, too. I just love how... the words seem to pour down the pages. Just so, well, not whimsical... Fantastical, maybe." She frowned. Still not the right word. She didn't want to say romantic - that was redundant. As Simon related the passage in French, the brunette shook her head. "It's been too long - I don't know what that means. If it were written, I could probably get the gist of it. From Hugo?" she asked. There was almost a girlish sigh. "Les Mis is my favorite... book, musical... everything. It's an amazing story."

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magienoir
2012-07-19 01:12 am UTC (link)

The windows of the buildings across the river are darkening, though the sunlight seeps between the streets in a hot red-orange-gold glare. Over the tops of the buildings, the sky is growing a rich pinkish orange. It's really quite beautiful. There's a little bit of a breeze picking up, too, though it's still too hot and arid to be enjoyable. He pushes his bangs from his forehead, where they're threatening to stick with the thin sheen of sweat that's been sitting there all afternoon. He carefully blots his face on the shoulder of his shirt a moment before drinking the rest of his wine and turning to face her properly.

"It's still dangerous," Simon replies with a mirthless little half-smile. "Which is to say, if there's still a threat now, one can only imagine what it was like back then. And I am not suggesting all male actors engaged in homoerotic activity. Just that I suspect it wasn't exactly an anomaly." It's said in a conversational tone, though - a light counter-argument rather than a judgement. "I agree. No one would be blatant - could be blatant - about it without fear of imprisonment or even murder. It just wasn't acceptable, and so like with many others, a lot of it is speculation more so than proof. Still, I believe he was bisexual."

He feels a little sick now that he's sweaty and full of overly warm wine. For a moment, he considers whether it would benefit him to eat something now, or to go home, cool down, and then eat something. "I feel like postmodern narratives are so very... dry and emotionless. It's sad that all that beauty and allure was tossed to the wayside so quickly in favor of serious, masculine prose." He shakes his head. "But yes, you are right. It is from Les Misérables - about a man in love whose tatty shoes are filled with rain, and whose soul is lit by stars." He smiles a little crookedly. "You can't get too much more Romantic than that."

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motherstouch
2012-07-19 01:42 am UTC (link)

Sydni nodded. "I used to get nervous when I was out with a girl - you never know when someone is going to do something psychotic just because they don't like who you love. It's terrifying. And it makes me angry." And she looked it, too. Not much could make her blood boil - she was generally meek and mild-mannered - but prejudice and hate could almost incite her to heroic deeds. Almost. She was still perhaps a bit too timid. "I agree. There is too much evidence to support it to really think otherwise."

Again, Sydni could agree. To some extent. Some modern poetry was really quite interesting. Less of a rambling, hyper-descriptive effusion of emotion, and more like a snapshot, a still frame of life. It had something to say, because it required more of the reader to fill in the before and after. Or at least, that's how she read it. "No, not much. Though, I remember the scene where Marius meets Cosette in the garden? And Hugo describes how her dress puckers when she bends over to pick up a flower or something, exposing just a bit of the swell of her breast. And then he transitions into this thing about how roses were originally white, but when Adam looked on one half opened, it blushed red. It's such a beautiful comparison." Sydni would be doing some reading tonight. Now she wanted to devour some of her favorite poetry.

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magienoir
2012-07-19 01:48 am UTC (link)

He smiles at the recollection of that scene, because it is one that sticks out in his mind very strongly - as intense as Enjolras's death and Cosette's miserable life with the Thenardier couple. And while the whole Marius and Cosette heterosexual thing does little for him, that scene is undeniably fantastic - bursting with desire and magic and romance and longing. Hugo might even have used bursting at some point in it. He does remember the entire book, though he's read it many times. "Hnn," he hums lowly, smiling out over the park at the river. "To be quite frank, I think it may be the most beautiful piece of erotica I've ever read - that scene, I mean.

"I think what most people don't understand is that one doesn't need to read about..." he pauses, thinking about how being too frank might be offensive to Syndi's sensibilities. Clearing his throat lightly, he reroutes the train of thought. "...the actual act, or purple descriptions of a human body. To write longing that richly... I think that's what true erotica stems from. No, any art. Because art should be a reminder of our shared passions and experiences - a little prompt to remind us of something deeper and more intense that we, as humans, are able to experience."

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motherstouch
2012-07-19 05:26 pm UTC (link)

Sydni blushes when Simon calls it erotica, looking quite flustered and distracting herself by fiddling with her rings. However, as he continued speaking, explaining about longing and shared passions. Clearing her throat and pushing her timidity back (though her face was still feeling a bit hot), she looked up again. "You're right. That's it exactly - there's something... whimsical, nostalgic... Something deep and soulful that we all understand intrinsically." The brunette smiled. She was surprised at how well they seemed to get along. It was nice to have another artist to talk to, even the forms of expression they used were different.

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magienoir
2012-07-19 10:52 pm UTC (link)

Her discomfort with the word 'erotica' is noted. It's kind of cute. Erotica, in his mind, is so much less questionable than pornography, which he most certainly imbibes in. The idea that something pretty and artistic is viewed like that amuses him, as well, a little. He fiddles with the cap of his empty bottle, once again eyeing the skyline across the river, and then chuckles softly, nodding. "We are all connected, if only because we feel so many of the same things," he remarks, though whether he's being facetious or not is perhaps vague given his present expression. "It has been lovely talking with you, Sydni, but I'm afraid that I'll turn into a pumpkin if I get caught out here after sunset, so I really ought to be going. We should do coffee and Byron sometime."

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