Joshua 'Jay' Guthrie (redfeathers) wrote in x_aftermath_x, @ 2008-09-22 23:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | cannonball, icarus |
Who: Icarus (Open to Cannonball)
When: Friday, October 10th, 2008
Where: Courtyard
What: A brotherly Guthrie interaction
Status: In Progress
Rating: PG
Chilled fingertips pressed the bronze strings of his acoustic guitar down against the dark, wooden fretboard. With each strum of his right hand, the fingers on the left readjusted to form another chord. The changes were staggered, lacking the fluidity of someone comfortable with how a tune went. While Jay could recreate anything he heard with his voice, it was different when it came to getting the guitar to do the same. This especially was the case when it was a song he'd never hear anywhere except within his head. It was a work in progress.
He worked through the progression again, faster this time through and murmuring some initial lyrics over the sound of the strumming, testing their fit. His heel bounced against the support of the stone bench he was perched upon, tapping out the rhythm that accompanied the melody. The baggy hem of his jeans scuffed along the stone, while the lack of anything better than an old Cumberland High tshirt was causing goosebumps to prickle with the on-again off-again fall breeze. He wouldn't be able to get away with such attire much longer. That thought crossed his mind as the ruddy-feathered wings strapped down beneath that old shirt shuddered in protest of the cold. Had they been out and not bound down to his back, the downy cover could at least shelter his shoulders from the weather. But Jay seemed blissfully ignorant or somehow content with an occasional shiver.
Working through the second verse, he reached the part where he imagined the bridge. As the notes grew higher, his hands moved down the fretboard, nearing the body of the guitar. Jay was nodding, still mouthing the words he imagined flowing along with the notes. Eyes closed and..
*SNAP*
With a high pitched "plink" the first string gave way, breaking between where his finger had held it down and where his right hand strummed. Jay's left hand flew back away from the instrument but the stressed out string had already left a reddened mark against his bare arm. Blood rose to the surface where his flesh had been sliced, but barely grew to anything more than a drop before the wound had mended itself.
"Aw, hell..." In what he thought to be an empty courtyard, Jay didn't do much to censor himself. While the small cut was gone, there was a lingering sting as well as the annoyance of having to go back to his room to get a new string before doing anything else with his guitar.