Gideon Theophilus Unterkoffer (![]() ![]() @ 2010-01-13 20:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-06-29 |
Who: Gideon and Caliban
When: A little before midnight
Where: Not so far from Shimmer
So late, there weren't many people around, just a few college students or folks on night shifts taking breaks or heading out to the clubs and bars nearby, though on a Monday night that was pretty slow. Gideon didn't mind the lack of an audience. He played a little quieter, but not much. It wasn't like anyone was trying to sleep around here. Gideon's sour mood from earlier in the night had sunk into a sort of quiet, dull introspection. He wasn't paying a lot of attention to his fingers, and he wasn't really bothering to sing. His voice wasn't exactly tired. It didn't wear out the way a mortal's might, but he started to feel a little strained and tired. He'd probably head home soon, while not thinking at all about all the niggling doubts and little heartaches that had been plaguing him lately. Bed would be pretty good pretty soon, especially since he was a little hungry. And nothing to do about that until tomorrow.
So his fingers picked out the Rolling Stones slowly, the chords so familiar it didn't require a moment's real thought to strum out the songs. Gideon sat under a streetlight. It was habit. The fuzzy, yellowish glow made his hair glimmer like rose gold and turned his papery complexion almost ruddy, making the colors on his batik shirt and bandanna pop sharply. He couldn't feel the heat, but the muggy night left him slightly damp and a bit wilted, but with the slightly cooler night air he just seemed rather languid. As he ran through "Black," humming slightly, his foot tapped out the rhythm. The song as familiar as his own heartbeat helped keep him grounded and didn't let him retreat into all his petty little woes, depressing as the lyrics were. A very slight breeze blew a lock of hair into his face.