Who: Piper and Damien What: Meeting & a Muse with a new charge When: Sunday afternoon Where: The park Warnings: None
Even for Miami, where beautiful weather was the norm, today was rather lovely, Damien decided, leaving his small apartment, the sun beckoning to him to come out and enjoy its delicious rays. He brought his guitar, of course, for there were few places where he did not take her, she was his constant companion, much more than any woman he could think of. Females came and went but his love of music was forever.
He didn't mind walking, it was good for him, and with the rising price of gas, it was more cost efficient anyway. He smiled at the people he passed, engendering return smiles from them, for his energy was most contagious, and few could resist his charm, even when subconciously applied.
There was a park he knew of, not too terribly far, and he enjoyed being in it, today being no exception. He found a place to sit beneath a friendly oak, setting his baby on his lap, his fingers finding the strings of their own volition, as he began to play - first chords, one following another in simple succession, before building up to phrases, and one of his favourite songs, a love song he had written himself. Have love song will travel.
It had been years since the Muse owned a pet, and by years, one usually means centuries when talking about an immortal. Piper had only recently gotten in the habit of walking Pitch on a regular basis - but lately the question popped up in her mind as to whether this particular dog really needed to be 'walked' or simply let outside. Or something. What exactly did a god-dog do? Still, a nice calm walk around town wasn't going to do her any harm. Or so she hoped. No shortcuts or alley ways.
In truth, she had looked more like herself than she had in weeks as she meandered around the part. The brightly colored short sundress she wore stuck out like a sore thumb in the Miami sun, along with her pink and purple striped hair and oversized sunglasses. But, it was Miami. The Mod-70's look wasn't completely unheard of.
She was minding her own business (and Pitch's as the doberman wandered ahead of her) when she heard the song. The Muse, not surprisingly, turned on her little wedge heel and started off towards the source, confused dog following after.
When he sang for his own pleasure, Damien's songs took on a balladic sound, not often found in his concerts, although lately he seemed to be incorporating them more and more, drifting away from the popular to the esoteric. He did it to please himself, more than anything, singing of beauty, and of love, lost and found and otherwise. He was a hopeless romantic himself, and dreamed of finding the perfect girl for him. Someday. Somewhere. Somehow.
He also happened to love musicals. And thinking of meeting his future someone made him think of West Side Story, so he changed directions, launching into Something's Coming...
Could be..... who knows.......
Piper finally found the source, and did not fight the broad smile that played onto her lips as she watched him play. The message and feeling in his song was apparent, though it did not quite have the effect on her it did to the people passing by. It was hard to influence a master of musical influence, naturally.
So, she stood and waited. Interrupting a song was a terrible thing to do, and she enjoyed his music and gladly waited for him to finish with that piece before she honed in on the unsuspecting musician.
Damien finished the number, slowly raising his head, his long red hair falling across it by habit. He simply pushed it aside, smiling at the audience which had gathered unawares while he played, although this was rather common. After all, it's what he did for a living. Some threw cash onto the ground before him. He neither encouraged it nor discouraged it - it simply was.
Since he didn't begin another number immediately most of them drifted off, to other occupations. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the animal - he loved animals - but he made no move to befriend it. Generally, animals approached him, and he knew enough not to try to initiate anything with a strange creature.
"Hello you," he said softly, "a music lover too, are you? So am I. I see we have something in common, don't we?"
The doberman looked his owner and after receiving a small nod from the Muse, he sauntered over to the stranger. Piper stayed back at the end of the length of the leash - despite the fact she didn't feel her furry little friend needed one. It made for less nervous people on the street.
The doberman was friendly enough, sniffing the new man but otherwise making no sign of a threat. Once satisfied that the man was friendly enough, Pitch seated himself on the ground, looking between the man and Piper.
Damien glanced up, squinting against the sun, at the animal's owner. "You have a nice dog there," he offered, "I think he's a canine music lover, god knows I can use all those I can get." He reached out his hand, to let the animal sniff at it before he gently petted him. "I like animals," he continued, as if a question had actually been asked, "They're so honest about things. If they don't like someone, they make no bones about it. And they're good at knowing good from evil...."
"And this one is particularly good at it," Piper said with a smile and took the opportunity to move forward and give her companion an affectionate pat on the head. "I refuse to go anywhere without him anymore because of it. His name is Pitch."
"Hello Pitch," Damien said, "this is my companion, but she doesn't have a name, not really." He laughed at himself as he said it. "But I've personified her, haven't I, ,made her a female?" He indicated the guitar in his lap as he spoke. "Not sure why, but it just seems right. My name is Damien, by the way. Damien Carroll." And he smiled most disarmingly at her.
"There's nothing wrong with having a connection with an instrument, one that has great personal value," Piper replied with a charming smile of her own and extended her hand. Sitting between two fingers was a crisp white business card, reading almost exactly as she spoke, "Piper Edeson. Arts and Repertoire Executive. Pleasure to meet you, Damien."
Ah, an agent. Not like he hadn't known others of that ilk before. Had one even. But he took her card politely, reading it thoroughly, before placing it on his leg, having no ready access to his pockets without standing. "Pleasure is all mine, Miss Edeson," he replied. "I do have a great connection with this guitar, I've had her for years. Music is my life... my everything... But I'm sure you've heard that before from lots of others..."
"Yes, I have. However," She gave her shoulders a small shrug, "Very few mean it. Music isn't a hobby or simply an art, it's a part of one's soul. It needs to be loved and nurtured - too many people nowadays simply want to waste their talent for fame or money, or even just a small scrap of attention to fortify their self-worth."
Her words struck a definite chord inside of Damien, resonating with the truth of his own feelings. He nodded, a bit more enthusiastically, as he replied, "Money is nothing, and fame is shit. It's doing what your heart tells you to do, forces you to do or else you feel like nothing. It's playing for yourself, and only incidentally pleasing other people, doing what your soul dictates. That's what it's all about, and that's why I gave up the agent I had cause all she wanted was the money, I don't think she even liked my music....." He paused for breath, his fingers naturally strumming across the strings.
"Most Agents are worse than the would-be performers." Piper practically spat before she removed her sunglasses. Much easier to see within the shade of the tree. "More people to put their name behind, the better. Whereas I work officially for a tiny industrial record label and most of my other 'work' I do on the side to those who are worthy of it," yes, she said worthy. "Unfortunately, this is Miami. Not many of those around."
"Other work?" he asked curiously, not sure what she meant. Oh, where were his manners? "Have a seat," he invited her, "I promise that I don't bite." He patted the ground, as if to show her it was completely safe to do so.
After a moment of situating the skirt of her dress just so, she took his offer and sat. She released the leash holding Pitch to her, but it made little difference as the dog sauntered over once she was situated and laid his head in her lap. "I guess you can say I light the path a musician chooses to walk down. One who has their head on straight and doesn't do it for the wrong reasons, that is."
That sounded.... intriguing... he had to admit. "And once you've decided who that is, what do you offer him or her?" he asked curiously, idling picking out Stairway to Heaven as he listened to her. Not that he was interested, mind you. He was doing alright for himself. But if he were completely honest with himself, a few more bucks wouldn't injure his artistic sense of being either. And would make billpaying easier. He also wouldn't mind getting a slightly better class of dump to live in.
"Whatever they need." She said with another shrug. "I can get them a backing band, vocalists, a record deal, live gigs,Inspiration alone if they ever need it." Though, she didn't mention that last bit usually came with a price, and the rest did eventually. But that was the small print. "Enough of an income to properly live off of without having to play in public for some spare cash..." Piper looked down at the money he had gathered thus far, and her youthful face looked back up at him with a small frown. No, she didn't approve of that. Not when Melpomene did it, and not when very talented strangers did it.
"I could use a half-way decent gig," he admitted, "just to make ends meet." He strummed his thumb across the strings, changing chords. "I'm not looking to make it big, though, I don't want that. I just want to play. Be heard by people. The rest of it doesn't matter. I had an agent before, but she was...... pushy....." He glanced up at her through his red lashes, watching for her reaction. If she even seemed as though the money was the important part to her, they would part company right here and now. End of story.
"I'm an agent, sweetie. Not a slave driver," she said with a small laugh. "My job is help you get where you want to go. If a small club or bar to play in a few nights a week for some cash is what you want, then I make a few phone calls and see who's interested for taking a look at ya. Just so long as that talent of yours isn't wasted." Because that would be a terrible shame. And this Muse of music wouldn't allow it.
He considered her offer thoughtfully, recognizing the practicality of it. It would keep him in strings, anyway, and a place to sleep. "It wouldn't keep me from playing here, would it?" he said. He enjoyed the time spent playing in the park, or on impromptu street corners. But he also enjoyed meeting other musicians, and that was always a possibility when one played gigs.
Piper fought a frown. "I suppose not. But I'd be more careful with it. With talent like yours, some of those gigs may get you fangirls~" She cooed playfully, before that dissolved into a soft bit of laughter. "But yes, I don't see why you couldn't if you enjoy it."
Fangirls? He could tell her many stories about fangirls, and fanwomen, if he wanted to. These were of no real interest him. It was all about the music. Romance never seemed to go well in his life anyway. "Good," he said softly, "then I'd be very happy to see what you can do...." Feeling rather pleased with himself, he began to play one of his own compositions, a ballad, one he never performed upon the stage. It was rather lyrical, and if he had chosen to sing, the words were actually in Greek. But for the moment, he simply hummed along instead.
The tune made her smile, and she reached to pull a pen out of her purse, and pulled one of her own business cards out to write on. "I will do that, Damien. But I need to know how to get a hold of you." She said softly, watching his fingers move against the strings briefly before turning her attention to his face. After an audition, it would take no time to get him in somewhere.
He recited the number of his cell phone - one of his few luxuries. He kept in touch with his parents with it, let them know how he was getting on. They had spoken of maybe coming to Miami once he was settled. He hadn't bothered with a house phone - this once was more than adequate to the job. As for how long he was staying in Miami, he couldn't yet say. A lot would depend on how this turned out, and if he felt he were being pressured in any way.
Once she had the number and the Muse was satisfied, she patted the dog so it would move enough for her to stand. "You'll be hearing from me soon, Damien," she said, and saluted him with a silent goodbye before returning on her path - leaving the musician behind. Oh yes, she had plans for this one.
Damien's attention was diverted by a young couple, who approached him shyly, and asked could he play something soft and romantic, and he obliged them with a rendition of Greensleeves, bringing a smile to their besotted faces, as well as his own. He was a sucker for romantic things. He put his future potential agent out of his mind. Que sera sera, after all.
Summary: While out meandering to clear her head and take Pitch out for a change, Piper comes around a particularly talented musician. And as a Muse would do, she jumps on the change to take him under her wing, and the two walk away from one another with an agreement.