2007-07-16: You Made It Sing


Portia_icon.gif Rafe_icon.gif

Summary: After playing some music in the park, Portia runs into one very strange kid named Rafe and they connect over music when he hears her play.

Date It Happened: July 16th, 2007

You Made It Sing

New York City - Central Park

Guitar in hand, notepad with lyrics she's scribbling on, and guitar case nearby, Portia is quite content to sit under a tree and play. She strums a little, singing along, although not terribly loudly. Just enough that anyone walking near her might hear.

GAME: Portia has rolled CHARISMA+PERFORM+CREATIVE and got a result of FANTASTIC.

Someone is walking by, and someone does hear — a rather tiny and unassuming /someone/, short and skinny and meandering through the park with a very distant expression. Rafe is scruffy as always in frayed jeans and an oversized black t-shirt, backpack on his back and saxophone case toted along. The music draws his attention, and his steps slow and then halt as he looks at Portia, expression snapping abruptly back to the present. He examines her with intent curiosity.

Continuing to play, Portia's song finally ends and it's then that she notices she's being watched. Or rather listened to. Or perhaps both. She smiles, sheepishly. "Hi there." She glances towards the case. "What've you got there?"

"You're good," Rafe says, thoughtful curiosity breaking into swift and sudden cheer as the song ends, a wide smile spreading across his face. He tips a glance down towards the saxophone case, too, but his gaze slides over it, past it, and lights on the ground instead. "Grass," he informs Portia earnestly. "It's everywhere these days. Would you like some?"

"Grass." Portia can't help but smile at the boy's rather random reaction, and she looks back to him. "Can't go wrong with a little grass. Good place to practice, too. Would /you/ like some?" She offers, patting a spot nearby on the grass to sit.

"Good place to practice," Rafe echoes, and sits himself down cross-legged on the grass, hands splaying flat against the ground and running the blades of grass through his fingers. "It's green today." He seems a touch baffled by this. "Sometimes I practice near the water."

"Really? It's hard for me to find places to practice. Home's crowded." Portia grins, strumming a little on her guitar. "What do you play?" She peers at the grass. "Guess it must be a good day."

"My home was crowded so I got rid of it." Rafe considers this, and then frowns briefly. "No, backwards. They got rid of me." He leans forward to open his saxophone case — the instrument within is well taken care of, in contrast to the boy's scruffiness. "It could be purple," he says, flicking a glance back towards the grass. "Or blue. If someone stole the yellow."

Portia laughs at the idea of just getting rid of home because it was crowded, and she grins a bit. "Sounds fun. I'd do that if it wouldn't worry my Mama so much. Mr. Gomez is a pretty scary man sometimes." She shakes her head though. "You seem nice. I don't think they'd get rid of you. Better to think the other way, right?" She nods, glancing at the saxophone. "Wow, that's pretty. We should play. It might be fun. I've never really gotten to do much music with anyone else." She pauses. "Purple grass would just make it seem like we're on another planet. Which.. y'know, New York practically is.

"Well, there's aliens in the park," Rafe says, voice dropping low as if confiding a deep secret. He takes his saxophone out, slipping a reed into the mouthpiece. "They didn't like me much cuz of —" Rafe frowns deeper and then shakes his head again, a bright smile chasing the expression from his face. "It's okay cuz now I can sleep /anywhere/ and nobody nags me to do homework."

So the kid's a little weird. But he's pretty nice, and she likes his strange way of viewing things. "Well," Portia says, "I think that is a wonderful life. Could be better than having to share a room with a bunch of people you aren't related to and you're not even sure if they hate you or talk about you behind your back." She can't help but laugh. "I dunno which is worse. Staying here or going to Mississippi with my Dad, who is like.. the biggest asshole in the world. He doesn't get my music." She strums her fingers on the strings. "You want to play?"

"Why's your dad mean? Who d'you live with? /I/ think my life is great! I play music and draw lots of pictures and nobody /else/ ever knows about the aliens cuz I think you can't see them if —" Rafe breaks off abruptly again, his train of thought easily derailed as he finishes getting his sax ready. "Yes." He nods once, emphatically. "I know the chords on guitars but I can't make them sing like you made it sing. My sax talks to me easier. We can make them dance together."

"I live with my mom and… well, the rest is a long story. And Dad? Dad's just a jerk. It's the way he is. One of the few people who can look at me and make me cry, and believe me, that list of people is VERY short." Portia glances back over to him at the image of the instruments dancing and she smiles. Falling silent, she instead lets the air be filled by the sound of a guitar and a sax.

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