robin (crackedthecode) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2019-09-17 19:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *hannahgrace, cappie, robin buckley |
mid-august
cappie ✦ robin buckley
cappie brings his new song into spin in & out, and meets a new musically-inclined pal g complete |
Ever since Bonnie had left Atlantis, Cappie had been putting off finishing off the final touches on the song they’d recorded together. However, he’d bitten the bullet and hired the recording studio for a few hours and now, finally, it was done. And it sounded amazing, even if he did say so himself. The sense of achievement was bittersweet. It would have been so much better if Bonnie had still been around to share it with him, or any of the Rioters for that matter. Still, he thought it was only fitting that the rest of Atlantis got to hear the song, if only to remember Bonnie by, along with all the others who had left too soon. For that reason, with his guitar case stuffed full of copies of the single, he made his way down to Spin In and Out. Cappie hadn’t spent much time at the record store, despite his mounting interest in music. Looking around at the shelves and shelves of records, CDs and even a few of cassettes, he thought that was probably a misstep on his part. There had to be every song ever recorded here. “Niiice,” he murmured to himself, running a hand over the spines of a stack of records. “If you’re impressed with this,” Robin chimed in, grinning at the boy from the next aisle over, where she was restocking records, “you should see the other aisles.” If she didn’t already work there, she would have spent all day just browsing and listening to samples. From the guitar case that he had in hand, Robin guessed he might be the same way. “Looking for anything in particular?” Cappie looked up for the source of the voice and smiled when he saw the girl in the next aisle. He guessed, from the way she was handling the records, that she worked there. He thought he’d seen a network post about her arrival a few weeks back. “Actually, I’m hoping to add to your collection,” he said, reaching over his shoulder to fondly tap the guitar case. “I’ve just finished recording a song and I thought it was only fair the rest of Atlantis gets to hear it. Can I leave you some copies?” Robin didn’t bother hiding her intrigue: her eyebrows shot straight upwards, and she leaned forward in interest. “Absolutely.” There was a spot in the store for local talent, and in Robin’s opinion, it wasn’t nearly big enough. The other reason she was interested - outside of a purely academic, wanting-to-share-music perspective - was that she hadn’t played any music with someone else since she’d arrived, and she really missed it. She’d gotten used to weekly jam sessions, and then there had been band at school. A part of her was aching for that sort of company. Steve was great and all, but she didn’t think he could hold a rhythm. “What genre do you play?” “Okay, great,” Cappie grinned, hoisting his guitar case off of his shoulder and carrying it over to the desk. He placed it down and unzipped the front pocket, where he’d stuffed all the CDs he’d burned. He took a stack out and put them in a pile on the desk. “I don’t know,” he replied, with a bit of a quizzical look. “I guess I’ve never really tried to classify it.” He picked up one of the CDs and held it out to Robin. “Why don’t you play this, then you can tell me?” “Sure.” She was curious as it was, so this gave her a good chance to play it right away. She popped the lid on the CD player behind the desk -- Robin had mostly gotten over her surprise at how far technology had come, but it still brought a smile to her face when she thought about how easily accessible music had become, and how prevalent CDs would eventually become -- and slid the disc in. She glanced back. “Nothing wrong with not labeling yourself, of course,” Robin said. “People are gonna try to put you into a box for the rest of your life, you know?” “I know,” Cappie replied, wrinkling his nose. It was one of the reasons he’d put off declaring his major for so long. He hated just having to be one thing. He liked to experiment, learn new things, try new experiences, write whatever the hell song popped into his mind. Some people said that made him flakey and non-committal but he just saw it as being free. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t settle down into one box someday, he just wanted to be in control of when that was and which box he chose. The song had begun to play in the background and, after a few bars, Cappie heard Bonnie’s voice kick in. “This is my friend Bonnie. We wrote the song together,” he told Robin, pointing up into the ether where he imagined the music swirling around their heads. “She’s gone now though,” he added, frowning. Robin had gotten sucked in immediately, drawn to the lightness of the notes. When he told her about Bonnie, she looked at him again. “I’m sorry.” It must have been really hard to not only lose a friend but a writing partner, because there was a sort of vulnerability that went along with writing music with another person that didn’t often cross over into other friendships. At least, that was Robin’s experience, but she knew she didn’t open up that easily. “This is really good,” she added after another moment. The music soared as the drums kicked in, and she caught herself instinctually tapping her fingers along with the beat. It wasn’t at all what she would’ve expected out of him, but that was the magic of music. “Thanks,” Cappie replied, smiling brightly. It was weird to hear the song playing in a different setting; until then it had been kept safe inside the recording studio but now it was set free. He was glad it’s first reception had been positive. It gave him confidence that he was right to have finished the song off after Bonnie had glitches out. “So what genre would you say this is?” he asked, once the song had been playing for a little while, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “Sort of…” Robin squinched her face as she tried to find the right words. She assumed her struggle to settle on a word or two would only prove that he was above labels, but Robin knew that the world didn’t operate the way she wished it would. If he meant to be successful, he’d have to commit to something, or at least that was Robin’s experience. For all her criticism of what was popular and cool, Robin still was someone who wanted to fit in. “A sort of folksy pop? More progressive and industrial than the contemporary pop out there, though, more experimental. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but I’d put it somewhere in the pop rock arena.” Cappie nodded slowly as he considered the label. He supposed he could live with “folksy pop” or “pop rock”. Neither was exactly what he would have called it himself but he wasn’t mad at them either. It made sense, he supposed. He remembered, from Breckentale, that the Rioters had played mostly pop rock. It had been heavier than the song that he and Bonnie had written, thanks to Tonks’ influence (or Ari, as she’d been called there), but it’d had the same vibe. “Do you play?” Cappie asked suddenly, a hopeful expression dawning on his face. He’d asked around before, looking for people to play with, but had drawn a blank. This girl was new, though. Robin felt a bit anxious after giving him her take on it. She didn’t think there was anything bad about what she’d said, but she knew how musicians could be protective and sensitive about their work. She didn’t want to put him off, especially not when she thought it was a good song. “Yeah, I do,” she told him. “Piano, guitar, drums. I tried my hand at the sax, but I wasn’t great. And I really couldn’t afford lessons.” She paused and laughed, dryly. “Or a sax so I could teach myself.” Cappie’s eyes lit up. How long had he been hoping someone else who was musical would turn up? How long had he been searching for someone who could play the freaking drums?! “And singing?” he asked, sounding as excited as he knew the expression on his face looked. “Do you sing?” “Ehhh…” Robin shrugged and tried to pretend like she was only so-so, but she couldn’t keep up the lie for too long before she was grinning back at him. “Yeah, I can sing. I think I’m all right.” “Yeah, you are,” Cappie replied, nodding as a smirk slid across his lips at the sight of her grin. “You know what this means?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “We have to jam!” “Really?” Robin knew she sounded surprised, but it was too late to try to hide it. “Are you --” She’d wanted to ask if he was sure, but he sounded sure enough that she knew she didn’t need to ask. He wouldn’t have been that enthusiastic otherwise, right? Finally, she nodded. What did she have to lose? “Okay. Okay, I’m sold. I’m Robin, by the way.” When Bonnie had left, it had felt to Cappie like a door had closed on an era - the end of the Rioters - but here he was, standing in front of a newly opened window. “Cappie,” he replied brightly. |