May. 9th, 2008

[info]ada_crowe

Week Nine: Thursday

Who: Ada and Caibre
Where: House of Fire Common Room
What: A first meeting

Ada was tired of being cooped in her room and felt like she was beginning to annoy Rhett with her constant presence in his. Wasn't her fault he had the better DVD collection and a bigger TV, but that was besides the point. What mattered was that she needed some time away that didn't involve her getting herself into trouble, even if it did sound pretty good at the moment. The farthest she was wiling to venture, however, was the common room, mainly because she couldn't be bothered to put shoes on and walking beyond the House of Fire would require that her feet be covered in something. Her current outfit of faded blue jeans, bare feet, and a white tank top that read "Mama Tried" across the front suited her just fine for the moment. Wearing Merle Haggard lyrics across one's chest was never a bad thing, after all.

So she grabbed her acoustic guitar from her room and headed down to the surprisingly empty common room. Everyone must be up in their rooms studying, she thought as she sat down cross-legged on the couch. She was sick of studying. She'd never done as much of it in her life as she had over the past week and she'd damn near had enough of staring at stupid books.

No, it was definitely time for some music, even if she had to play alone. The change of scenery was slight, but managed to spark a bit of inspiration, even if the room was just like an oversized living room with couches and chairs and a television that was currently on mute, sparing her from the inane conversation on some sitcom rerun. She began to let her fingers move along the neck of the guitar, sliding from fret to fret and stepping from string to string. It wasn't any particular song that she was playing, more just a basic melody that expanded into something more complex. She was no Jimi Hendrix, but she was a good guitarist and her dedication to the instrument showed in the way that she was able to put together complicated strings of chords and picking patterns, creating music that had only existed in her head before that moment. It would sound better on one of the electric guitars, but this would work for now. Besides, it wasn't as if an instrumental jam session like this one would ever be played in a concert or on an album. People tended to want to hear words.
Living as dangerous as dynamite sure makes you nervous, but it makes you feel all right )
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