Topic: The Beckoning

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-03-31 17:13 EST
Sauntering across town from her night in the West End at Club Blue, Hope was still electrified. Sunrise was still a few hours away and she enjoyed the way the evening's warming trend licked at her skin. She came upon Third street and the Hands Over Hollywood Cafe. She couldn't quite place the establishment's name; she could, however, place the fact that she had heard music coming from within on more than one occasion. In fact, she had been keeping her eyes on the place for a few moments each evening as she awoke.

She heard the quieted sounds of a guitar being plucked. It was the kind of gentle fingering that came from a musician deeply in love with the sounds he was able to usher forth. Hope felt the corner of her mouth soften into a smile. "An artist," she mused, "unwilling to part with his instrument, lest an idea strike him empty-handed." She moved closer to the door. The lights had been dimmed, tonight's show was seemingly over. Or was it?

Keaton

Date: 2006-04-03 14:51 EST
It is a matter of interpretation, whether or not the show is over tonight.

The lights are low inside the cafe, abandoned coffee mugs and beer bottles and even a few cocktail glasses in the process of being cleaned up by the maturely pretty barrista. The socialists are still there, as always, arguing quietly in the booth under the Audrey Hepburn posters, a couple is necking with just enough noise to let you know that they're there beneath a large, leering print of Mechagodzilla, and the musician is on the stage, picking and strumming, at once fluid and careful. His stare is out of sight, hidden by the blanket of his bangs he always keeps loose from his ponytail, but if it would be anywhere, it would be on his guitar. He sits indian-style to cradle that instrument in his lap, arms tense enough to play, his form relaxed enough to be playing music. His white button-up is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and the t-shirt hidden beneath the Oxford and behind the guitar professes his love for the Ramones. The notes speak of Spanish classical, but also of folk. He's well-traveled, or he's been taught by someone well-traveled. Probably the former - if there's a hipster in this room, he's it.

A petite young woman with auburn hair in pigtails sits on the floor by the stage, her back against it, eyes shut for the moment, out of his line of sight - he mightn't know she's there listening.

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-04-04 17:11 EST
Hope brushed up against the door, feeling it move at her urging. She stood on the threshold for a moment or two taking in the scene before her. She knew she was going to do well in this city...she liked the way it smelled. But above all, she found a place that promised to exist for the love of art.

She moved through the dim room, catching more specific notes of the conversational din as she neared the musician. Her cool eyes raked over him, as well as the slight woman at the stage's apron. Hope remained in a somewhat empty cloister listening to the guitar sing forth the dulcet tune at the command of her master's attentive fingers.

In fact, the Toreador stayed rooted to the spot until the last note of the musician's song rose from the instrument's taut strings. Hope didn't yet applaud, in fact, she didn't yet make a sound. She was invested too much in what she'd seen. She found a place that actually reminded her of the places she'd frequented before she left the Western lands and headed for the Jade Empire. For the first time in a long time, Hope felt as if she had indeed come home.

Keaton

Date: 2006-04-04 19:42 EST
The moment Hope enters, the little lady at the lip of the stage looks up and bugs out. Petrified of being caught listening stealthily to the cafe's resident fox, she straightens up and scurries away. Maybe down the street to the record store. The guitarist's eyes follow her as he finishes his song, a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. His eyes are brown, good-natured, and gentle when narrowed and earnest when wide. Right now they're narrowed, as they catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar face. He tucks hair behind his ear to get a better look at her, reaffirming that she is indeed a stranger, and his nose twitches imperceptibly... but no, she hasn't been around long enough for him to place her scent.

The smile remains in place for a moment, hanging in the air, until he plucks a few more notes as he asks: "So... any requests?"

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-04-05 16:22 EST
Her lips curling into a modest grin, careful not to give too much away, Hope moved from the solitudes of her niche. "I've always been a sucker for a sad ballad," her voice felt like cool drops of rain on the back of the neck, soothing and disarming all at once.

Coming now into full view, the kindred's height was something of a surprise, followed closely by her pallor. Still, she knew that there were others around like her, she could smell them everywhere. Hope figured that in a place like this city of Rhy Din, anything goes....and pretty much went. That's what intrigued her about it. It was very different from her most recent dwellings where tradition and honor were the very life blood of society. She had found herself feeling suffocated by the constraints of the Eastern lands. She was a Westerner, obviously, and her home beckoned to her. Hope knew that obeying that call was one of the best things she had done in a while.

"Place been here long?" she now stood in her dramatic black velvet cowl cloak (a gift from an actor long ago) and simply contoured white gossamer gown beneath. Hope had always favored dressing in opposing styles; perhaps it was because she was something of an enigma herself. Her gray-green eyes surveyed the musician as she judged his heartbeat, steady, and a hair's breath from calm.

Keaton

Date: 2006-04-06 22:59 EST
His eyes trace curiously over her, noting her height and her complection and the particular uniqueness of both. Then again... as his nose gives another little twitch, he recognizes that scent, and she can see his smile grow a little. "Sad. Got it." And he plays a variation on "Angie" he's been toying with for a while, with some extra notes added in to give a feel of smooth crescendoes that'll actually make the song decently interesting even without any vocals going on. Indie is his style, but he can do classic rock and likes it in small doses.

"Not particularly," he replies, not letting up on his playing at all, head lowered again. "The foundation seems kinda old... but I think this place has been a cafe for several months at the most. I only got here in December myself. That's..." He pauses, sucking in a quiet breath thoughtfully, touching his teeth to his lower lip, then letting it go. "...Nearly four months." He grins. "How about yourself? I haven't seen you around this city before, and I think I recognize most faces I see between here and the Inn. I do an awful lot of walking aorund."

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-04-09 17:53 EST
A glimpse of sparkling white as her upper teeth tug on her lower lip before she eases closer to the musician. "I'm a newbie, I guess you could say. I've come round here only recently." Hope's eyes are taking him in, noting his expressions and gestures carefully. There was a brief moment of recognition on his part as she ventured forth, but she guessed it was not her name that signaled the look. "Name's Hope," she threw him a carefully coy smile, one that she'd practiced for generations. "I'd say it is an interesting little town you've got here, but you are a bit of a fledging, too." An alabaster hand reached up behind her head and pulled down her hood, letting those closely shorn platinum locks spring into place. "I like your music, by the way. Thanks for playing loudly enough for me to hear." Her eyes moved over him, picking up something she couldn't quite place. "Just what brought you here? I mean, we've all got a story, don't we?" Letting a bit more of the white shine through her smile, she mentally settled in to find out just what it was about him that intrigued her.

Keaton

Date: 2006-04-26 19:18 EST
"Why would a musician play too soft for the people to listen?" His eyes gleam cleverly, and he stops the song to concentrate on the conversation. Somewhere next door, someone begins playing music, barely permeating the walls. His acoustic set aside, the fox scoots forward, feet dangling over the edge of the stage. "I'm Keaton, and I'm a traveler. Came here by accident... I suppose." Instinctively, his hand has drifted to the neck of his guitar, though there it ineffectually remains. "I s'pose I was looking for a place like this... and by accident, I found it. There's a lot of places to see, so I usually don't stay anywhere long... but there's a lot to see and do here, so here I am." He narrows his eyes slyly. "Maybe I was running, kinda - but here I realize there's nothing to run from. Rhy'Din's a funny place like that. What about you... Hope?" He finds her name very interesting - he's always loved interesting names.

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-04-28 14:51 EST
"Running, were you?" her painted lips slid into a practiced smile. "There's the beginning of a story if I ever heard one." Hope could turn on the hypnotic qualities of her voice when she wanted to, however, right now, she simply was content to talk and to listen. "I guess we're all running, aren't we? Either running from or running to. I won't ask."

She smirked and appeared to slink down into a chair, her long form practically melting into a sitting position. "Me? I was running from. Boredom," she let her teeth part as she laughed. Hope ran her fingers through her hair, letting the curls spring back into place when her hand was finished. "Just got in from the East. Someone said they called it the 'Jade Empire.' Me? I just called it home for a while."

Stretching a bit, she let her gray-green eyes roll up to the ceiling as she recalled the summary of her stay there. "I thought it would be exotic...and it was. I thought it would be different....and it was. I thought it would be the end all be all....and it definitely was not." She lifted her chin, posing with a smirk. "Still, it was distraction enough. Until I found myself bored of the same show every night." Hope looked at Keaton, she could now place his scent, and it lent a wider grin to her lips. "You know, Keaton, you remind me of someone..."

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-05-03 17:07 EST
"But maybe that's a story for another day," and as a languid smile sauntered over her lips, Hope's form rose cleanly from the chair. Her long fingers had reached into a fold in her cloak and she produced a thin silver case. "We can't have all those secrets out in the open so soon, you know." A cigarette slid from the case, she cocked her head to the side and let her platinum curls lean. "I'll let you get back to your music, Keaton. I will see you around, I'm sure." A snap of the match and her cigarette was lit. Her green-gray eyes lingered for a moment on him before a veil of smoke wafted its way up. It seemed as though Hope nodded to herself before she turned away, leaving renegade tendrils of smoke undulating and twisting in the air. Her long, easy strides carrying her with unnatural grace, Hope was at the door in a moment. She turned and inclined her head to the musician, letting the light from the entrance glisten off of her alabaster skin. Moving from the building then, she left a delicate wake of light gray smoke.

Keaton

Date: 2006-05-18 16:55 EST
Keaton can only watch as she speaks... finding himself entranced by the alluring woman, whose seduction is her storytelling. Though, in hindsight, nothing was really told. A gentle smile curls his lips, and he nods too as she decides it's time to go. The story was cut short, and he never really told his... but perhaps another night. He has a feeling she won't come out in the daylight.

"We'll share our stories sometime... traveler..." The large brown eyes watch her leave... and fall to his guitar again. The strings vibrate, and the shy woman creeps closer again, taking up residence at the edge of the stage, and the guitarist can't help but think that this night is a sultry night...

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-06-02 18:06 EST
As evenings would go by, gently and quietly, the Toreador was often found reclining on a rooftop that neighbored the Cafe. Her long legs stretched before her, usually crossed at the ankle, Hope would listen to the music licking at the air as it exited the doors and windows of the establishment down below.

It became something of a habit. Hope would stop here first, before she fed. She thought of it as a delicate opening to each evening. Often, the heat from the day was still palatable in the air, the scents of hard-working citizens dousing the newly formed evening breeze. She truly found herself enjoying this new city; and enjoying the music all the more.

She knew that she would run into the musician downstairs again, or even a few others. If one thing were true, it was that Hope had no trouble juggling.

Keaton

Date: 2006-06-24 11:00 EST
The rooftop neighboring the cafe so happens to be Keaton's, all varieties of independent music trickling out the windows more often than not left wide open in the summer months. The season deepens, the heat becomes unbearable in his loft, and one evening, not long after sunset, the fox seeks shelter atop his building. There is a grunt as five familiar slender fingers grasp the little brick wall up top... another noise, and he's hoisting himself up, abs curled around the edge, face lifted just enough to see what's going on. His shirt is plastered to his sticky skin, as sticky as the air around them.

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-06-30 17:41 EST
A set of green-gray eyes flickered over to the brick wall. She watched as the fingers curled securely and helped to hoist their master to a new height. The evening was sultry, indeed. Perhaps it took a lesson or two from the alabaster beauty with the platinum hair.

"Well, well, well. To what do I owe this monumental visit? Or should I stay along the demure lines of...'A stranger? Happening upon my unsuspecting presence?'" A playful smirk licked at her lips, "Somehow, I think you would prefer the former, Keaton."

Hope was sitting near the edge of the building atop an aluminum shutter designed to fit over a protruding pipe. Her legs were nearly bared between the gathering of gossamer-like fabrics she employed in the early summer heat. Truth be told, she was pleasantly surprised at his visit. As much as she longed to hear the music that wafted its way up from the windows below, she detested listening to it alone.

"How've you been? I didn't know that anyone else knew of my little perch," her voice was musical itself as it wound its way around the subtle breeze and cooed against his ear. She was an expert at giving off a casual and whimsical attitude, though her eyes never left him.

Hope of Shin Tang

Date: 2006-10-21 01:31 EST
The muse, as she liked to fancy herself, was in a bit of a quandary. She had fallen stagnant, even in this city ripe with chaos. Hope had grown bored, as she was apt to do. After all, when one has literally nearly done everything, it left very little with which to amuse one's self.

It was a crisp autumn's evening, most definitely cold by mortal standards, when the Toreador found herself once more in the vicinity of the cafe. She had met other artists since her arrival in this new city, and even inspired a few. Hope's willowy form had lain stretched beneath one piano, the gentle curve of her breasts had been the subject for two sculptures, and the cool skin of the back of her neck, just beneath her upswept platinum locks, had been written about in a poem entitled, "Moonlight."

Hope found herself wondering if this was all the city had to offer. A question she often pondered shortly before moving on to the next destination. She never really had viewed herself as a wanderer...she fancied herself more of an explorer. Always seeking, always searching, always lusting for an avenue of art that would take her closer to that edge of passion and release that gave her the only true pleasure outside of feeding.

Her bone-white nostrils flickered as she sniffed for the curious scent that she associated with Keaton. The marble-smooth skin around her mouth lifted as she eased into a slow smile. Hope had found her evening's vessel.