Just Rigby. (troubador) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-04-02 23:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-14, melody |
I'll wait for you there, like a stone
Who: Rigby and Melody
Where: Melody’s studio
When: Afternoon
Rigby had been meaning to get in touch with Melody long before now. Sure, they’d exchanged a few texts, so he knew she remembered who he was, but the whole demon thing kept him from being willing to go out. Knowing what one would do to him, no one could blame the guy. He wasn’t interested in getting mindfucked by a demon again, and the fact that he’d been able to chill with Kai had been even better. Anything that let him get to know the fellow psychic even better was good in his book - despite the fact that he knew his best friend didn’t approve of her. Things Rigby had never thought would ever happen: Graham not liking a girl.
There was also the thought that he knew exactly what Melody’s powers would do to him. She was an amplifier, she’d said, and she was going to spike his telepathy. Rigby liked to think he could handle it, and this was going to be a much smaller meeting place than a crowded bar after a show would be. The less people around, the more his powers couldn’t fuck with his head. That was what he kept reminding himself as he drove over, radio off, fingers idly tapping the steering wheel. He could feel when he was getting close, because suddenly everything got louder.
Wincing, he pulled up to the studio and killed the engine. Well, at least he knew Melody was actually here. Grabbing his guitar, he climbed out of the Ranger and knocked on the door.
Melody had hardly been back in town a day. She’d gotten a call from a friend in Nashville who wanted her to join her down south for a few sessions, and that was the sort of thing Melody couldn’t deny. She’d hopped a plane, and had made no plans to return to Michigan until she heard that Alanna had turned up. She’d still had to wait a few days and finish up the actual work, but she was back now - and the good news had hit her like a mega dose of caffeine straight into the vein.
She was trying to be a responsible adult and unpack her things when she heard the knock on the door. Knocks on the door were always much more interesting than being a responsible adult, so she hauled ass through the house to see who it was. “Rigby!” she said, upon throwing open the door. “How are you?”
No matter what he did, being around Melody meant that his powers were going to spike and he was going to know everything that went through her mind. Fortunately she did know he was a telepath, and therefore knew what was going to happen, so he didn’t feel quite as bad about it. He knew she’d been tyring to unpack and procrastinating, so maybe dropping by unannounced wouldn’t be so bad after all. “I’m all right.” Rigby was probably one of the few people on this earth who could consider being technically homeless and living out of his truck to be “all right.” “Don’t mean to be interruptin’ nothin’ if’n you’re busy, I can always stop by again later.”
Melody wasn’t the sort of person who considered interruptions, well... interruptions. In the studio was a different matter, but down there, the world upstairs could blow up and she’d never know about it. In the real world - that is, the world outside of her studio - interruptions were just like... sidequests. Even if she kind of sucked at video games. She waved the idea off and held the door open. “Please, come in. I just got back into town. And I’m minus my house guests, so hopefully there’ll be a minimal amount of voices.”
He didn’t have to stretch out too far to know she was telling the truth, if her guests were here, he’d hear them. “I appreciate that,” he said as he followed her inside, nodding his thanks for the open door. “No offense meant to your guests and all, just gets mighty hard to figure out what’s going on around me.” Was Melody thinking about... video games? Rigby shook it off, knowing better than to make sense of some of the thoughts he heard. Sometimes people’s brains just went off in entirely different directions for reasons he’d never understand. “I was hopin’ we might talk ‘bout some music stuff, if’n you got the time.”
“They were temporary guests anyway,” Melody shrugged it off. There was still Ginevra, but Ginevra was a swan. A familiar, sure, but she was pretty sure people didn’t hear Ginevra unless Ginevra wanted them to. She was outside, anyway. Way out of Melody’s amp-y range. “Made of time. Do you want something to drink? Want to see the studio?”
She had a swan staying with her? Rigby had heard a lot of weird things over the years, but rarely anything about swans. Whatever, he wasn’t the kind of guy to judge, and he just shrugged it off. As far as he was concerned, the swan could stay outside, if only to make sure his brain didn’t explode. “Water’d be mighty nice of ya.” Out of nowhere, he remembered going to Autumn’s and the sweet tea she’d made. First time he’d had that outside of the South in a long time. “And yeah, ‘course I do. Ain’t spent much time in a real studio hardly ever.”
Melody had a minifridge in the studio, so she just waved him to follow her and headed that way. “Your timing’s great,” she said as she walked. “I just got back from Nashville and I’m kind of, you know, amped. No pun intended.” Travel wore some people out, but not Melody. All that people watching and new places and faces, it was inspiring. Near the kitchen was a heavy door, and she pulled that open to reveal the stairs leading into the basement. “Come see my baby,” she invited. “I built the studio when I got the place. The basement was already finished, so it wasn’t as big a project as it could have been.”
“What’s got ya in Nashville, if’n you don’t mind me askin’?” Nashville was a lovely city, though he hadn’t been through there in quite some time. Every time Rigby went down south, he tended to miss home more and more, but he could never bring himself to go back to Savannah, no matter how much he missed it. Grinning, Rigby followed her down the stairs and into the studio proper. “Gotta say, ya got a nice place here, even without the studio.” And then he saw all the equipment, and it really was like a kid in the candy store, the way his face lit up. “Well, damn. I’d be in love with this place too.”
“Oh, an old friend of mine was recording down there. We used to jam all the time back in the day, and I cut a demo for her when she was still living in Michigan. She asked me to come down as a session musician and back-up vocalist for a few tracks. We had a great time,” Melody answered, as she turned all of the lights on. She truly adored her studio, her home, and she considered it the most comfortable room in the house. The control room had hard wood floors covered with woven rugs, and the walls were covered in a pale wood paneling polished to a shine. Mixed in with spare instruments and bits of equipment were overstuffed chairs and sofas, all upholstered in varying shades of pale blue. Over the booth window was a narrow abstract painting, also done in shades of blue and seafoam. Over the door to the stairs the word ‘Annwn’ was spelled out in blue sea shells. Bamboo plants and blue flowers were in each corner. She grinned again as she opened a mini fridge by the couch, and pulled out a bottle of water for him. “Thanks,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”
“It certainly sounds it.” Rigby couldn’t lie, there had been lots of times over the years when he’d dreamed about doing the sort of thing Melody was, recording music, helping other people out with their projects. It was mostly when he was a kid in Savannah, dreaming about a better life than the one he had, but as he’d gotten older, he’d realized that he really loved performing, and the music, and the rest of it would come with time, if it came at all. He didn’t need his name in shining lights, even if the telepathy would have let him. Looking around the studio, he let a hand drift over one of the chairs, looking up to see the word ‘Annwn’ above the door. “What’s that mean?” he asked, genuinely curious. Granted, he didn’t have all that great an education, but that was one he didn’t know. “And thank ya, for the water.” He held it up to her before cracking it open and taking a sip.
Melody took her usual seat at the controls, and gestured for Rigby to make himself comfortable. There was more to the studio, but it was all the soundbooth and storage closets, and Melody had a feeling if she brought out the instruments that’d be it for conversation. Which was totally cool with her, she just didn’t want to be rude and launch right into it. “Annwn is the Otherworld from Welsh mythology,” she answered. “It’s basically Heaven, as far as Christianity goes. This is my paradise, so it felt very appropriate. Every great studio needs a name.”
There would be plenty of time for music - at least that was what Rigby told himself. He was still new to this whole recording business, and all he’d brought was his acoustic guitar. The electric was in the truck, but he didn’t feel much like getting it right now. “I’ll be honest with ya, don’t know nothin’ ‘bout mythology. It’s a pretty name, though, and I think it’s fittin’.” Hell, Rigby had barely finished high school, and he’d never had the money, much less the ambition, to attempt college. And any place that let him place music was akin to heaven to him. “How long you had this place? I can’t remember if’n you ever said before.”
“My dad is Welsh,” Melody explained with a shrug. Not that her dad had really been the one to tell her the stories. He’d told the nanny to tell her though, and it was the thought that counted. Eh, she’d give it to him as a point. “Almost four years,” she answered. “I rented the house for about a year before I bought it, and built the studio over time - sort of learning as I went.”
“Ah.” Rigby supposed that was better than his dad, who was nothing more than a Southern deadbeat who’d treated his mama like shit. He caught Melody’s thoughts, of course - something about a nanny - and that was a world he knew nothing about. “Think it would be better, goin’ ‘bout it that way,” he said. “Learnin’ as you go, I mean. Gives a place character.” Much like how he wouldn’t trade his old truck for anything - it was a part of him now, and you could tell just by walking in here, seeing how comfortable Melody was with the place, that she was home here.
“I had a lot of people tell me it was the smart way to do it. Make sure you don’t get in over your head and all that,” Melody replied. “Truth is, I probably would have gone all out on day one if I had the option available to me. It was just a matter of getting the money together. I worked a bunch of odd jobs and every check it seemed like I was doing something new for the place. I got into music kind of late in life, though. I had classical piano lessons growing up, but I didn’t take it seriously until I was in my twenties.” Which was a whole other long story, and probably too much information. “How about you? How did you get into it?”
Rigby nodded, completely understanding the whole “getting money together” thing. Shit, he did that often enough, but in comparison to Melody, it wasn’t so he could build an awesome studio. If he lived anything close to a settled life, then maybe he would have considered it, but the fact of the matter was that it just wasn’t him. He wasn’t good at staying in one place for longer than a few months, much less building something to call his own. “Hear ya on the odd jobs thing, been doin’ that for years just to get by. Put gas in the truck and all of that.” He looked down at his hands for a moment, looking down at all the callouses from playing guitar as often as he did. “My granddaddy had a guitar, when I was a kid. Was the only time I was happy, growin’ up - gotta understand, we didn’t have shit back then.” They didn’t have shit ever, come to think about it. “Remember my mama workin’ damn near seven days a week to make enough money to get me lessons, and to buy me my guitar. My old man,” and here Rigby snorted, “well. Didn’t like it much. But then again, he ain’t never liked nothin’ ‘bout me.”
Funny how many musicians came from bad family lives, rocky childhoods, or just plain old hard living. Music had a healing power, and in the few times Melody ever stopped to wonder about why she’d been so drawn to it after the accident, she had to consider that could be why. Then she realized she didn’t care either way. “My parents hate what I do,” she said with a grin. “Common enough theme I guess. Sounds like you had a good mom though.”
Keeping thoughts to yourself was hard around Rigby, and that was never going to change. Especially more so around Melody, when everything got louder for him. Therefore, when she was thinking about the healing power of music, and something about an accident, he filed that information away for later, same as he always did. It wasn’t his place. “My mama was the best,” he said. “Never did get much in the way of bein’ happy, but it worked out.” Kind of. He liked to think she was in a better place now, anyway. “If’n it helps any, I think it’s damn awesome to have your own studio ‘n all, so who gives a shit what your parents think?”
Melody grinned widely. “I really don’t,” she said. “Their issues are just that - their issues. If they want a relationship with me, they need to get over it. I’m open to whatever they decide, but I’m not going to let them hold me back.” Obviously. Her parents had cut her off financially, but here she was. Thriving. “So! Do you want to pop in the booth and take her for a spin?”
“That’s a good way of lookin’ at it.” And it was, it just didn’t work like that for Rigby, not after how he’d treated his mother. The only thing his old man was good for now was finding an early grave. Rigby lived his own life now, and there was very little that connected him to Will Walker. He thought that better for everyone involved. Hearing her offer the booth to him had him grinning, though. Whenever things got bad, music always made him feel better. “Don’t mind if’n I do.” He pulled his guitar out of its case, the acoustic his favorite, though he did have his electric on him as well, back in the truck. “You got any requests?” Hell, might as well ask, Rigby had a good repertoire of songs by now.
Melody grinned widely as she started up the system, and then stood to lead the way into the booth. “Surprise me,” she said. “Pick one of your faves.” She plugged in the main mic, and set up another one at guitar level. Then she handed Rigby the headphones. “You’ll be able to hear me through these,” she said. “In a minute I’m gonna want you to play a few notes to make sure I’ve got the volume right. Any questions?”
He followed her into the booth, taking the headphones she offered. Though he’d been around music for most of his life, it was his first time in an actual studio. He’d started doing this because it worked for him, not because he’d ever thought he could make money off it, aside from the open mic contests he won. There was a first time for everything, after all. “Sounds good,” he said, nodding as he slipped them on. “Just be lettin’ me know if’n you need me to be doin’ somethin’ different.” He took a seat on the stool there and tuned up the guitar, nothing but a few quick notes as he thought over what song to play.