Before Everything Is Gone


eve3_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Before Everything Is Gone
Synopsis Two musicians meet for the first time - or the first time properly
Date March 15, 2010

The Rock Cellar

Recording studio.

To get away from the craziness that is the world in New York City is a blessing. Some people retreat through alcohol.. some through drugs. For Eve.. it's always been art. Specifically for right now? It's music. The woman is in the studio by herself, currently listening to some rough vocals she laid down. A slow, melodic piano piece in the background.

The songstress is leaning back in the chair. Her eyes closed as she listens to the music playing, dressed in a dark green dress that reaches to her calves, a pair of black boots come to cover the bit of leg that would show normally.

Her hair is free and hangs almost to the floor in the long chair she's sitting in and leaning back. Curly today, she didn't want to straighten it after the shower. She hums softly to herself as she listens to the recording. Making notes in her head.

She has an idea, and an idea always gives Sable a purpose to her stride, a steadiness and momentum that causes her to course through space and time in her own dynamic stillness, seed crystal of her imagination gathering particulates of perception and building a structure in the musician's mind.

That's not to say every shape that forms is pleasing. They can't all be winners, and some disintegrate under their own weight, collapsing into perpetual incompletion. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and Sable chooses her source pool of stimulus carefully, filling her ears with the music she wishes to draw upon.

So absorbed is she that she doesn't notice that the sound booth is in use. She piles on through and stops upon seeing Eve's near-reclining form. The yellow eyed woman tilts her head to the side, peering.

"Now who're you, eh?" she says, cracking a crooked smile.

Without even opening her eyes, Eve replies, "Eve." Said softly, though she could hardly be heard as her voice soars powerfully on the song she's working on. Her pale skin gleaming under the light from scented oil, it smells of lavender and.. cinnamon as she raises a hand to wave lazily at the other woman.

With a soft smile and a nod, she leans over to stop the track from playing and looks over at Sable. Sable's eyes are an unnatural yellow while Eve's are a eerie light grey. "Who're you?" she counters with a soft smile as she stands and stretches out, she must have been listening to that track over and over for a while. It's almost exactly how she wants it, bluesy soul with the darkness that normally comes from her songwriting.

As she stands, her booted foot nudges her messenger bag lying on the floor. The singer/songwriter looks at Sable, taking in her appearance and trying to place her accent. Do all the women around here have accents?

No matter how close she listens, Eve won't discern some singular accent from Sable. There is a little bit of authentic southern twang, but its exaggeration is pretty obvious. The odd cadence and rambling of her expression is, in the end, idiosyncratic and likely performative. Put on, maybe at first, but now worn with such comfort that it does not seem 'false', however constructed.

"Name's Sable," that woman says, sidling forward and offering a hand to Eve, "'n' Eve, sweetie, you were named right. I'd believe all th' fair womanfolk in th' world got you f'r a first model," she flashes a grin, "gonna have t' watch out, though, you try 'n' tempt me with anythin'."

The very folksiness of her accent and affect makes it hard to tell just how serious she's being with her flattery, but when it comes to music her seriousness cannot be doubted. Sable points at the speakers. "Y'all don' have t' turn that off. I was diggin' it," she dips her head, "gimme a listen, babe."

The older woman has the decency to blush a bit at Sable's words and she nods her head. "Yes, you'd better watch out. I've heard that I'm quite hypnotizing." Eve has finally taken her meds, just hours before. So she's in a much more stable place than earlier this morning. While Sable's accent is all her own, Eve has the native New Yorker accent. Always proud to proclaim that she will always be a city girl.

Eve tilts her head towards Sable and dips her head. "Well then if you'd like a listen.." a soft smile crossing her lips as she leans back over to press the play button. "It's for my EP.. Shadown's Dawn. Robyn Quinn? She's going to co write a song with me." Eve explains softly as the piano starts again.

The piano bit could easily be heard as someone with exquisite skill and that has been playing for a very long time. The voice that emits from the speakers could be described as smoky, a certain powerfulness behind it that seems to come out from nowhere.

Just keep tumbling, tumbling.. down.

Will you catch me if I fall..?

Just keep tumbling, tumbling down..

Ending on the floor..


The chorus sung in a sorrowful way, clearly Eve isn't happy when singing this record. Her eyes close as she tries to pick out the things she wants to change.

"Hypnotizin'?" Sable says, with a laugh, "I'll try 'n' do my best t' keep from fallin' int' yer eyes in that case, babe, but I c'n already tell that'll be a hell 'f a job." She lifts her arms, swinging them as if trying to keep her balance. "See? Already tippin' int' them," her head tilts, "those… grey?" she whistles low, impressed, "Babe, thass jus' sex. Hat's off." Sable doffs an invisible cap before sidling little closer. Not for further sallies, but rather so she can tilt her head and listen to the music that Eve plays.

Her absorption is deep, her brow knit in thought for brief moments between closed-eyed immersion. She waits for the track to complete before speaking, not wanting to disturb the object before it concludes.

"Yer blue, babe, that's sure 'nuff. 'N' it sounds deep blue, which is real fine. Tell me, doll, where'd that feelin' come from? What or who'd be so fuckin' unjust as t' bring you unhappiness, eh?"

Chuckling at the other woman's comments, Eve runs a hand through her thick hair with a light smile before she's watching Sable's reaction to the chorus that was just played. She again closes her eyes as the track plays and then when it ends, she looks up towards Sable with a dark intensity to her eyes as she is asked about the inspiration behind the song.

"Haven't you ever felt like you the rug was pulled from under you?" A tilt of her head as the question is poised there in the air between them. "Like you'll never stop falling and nobody is there to help pick you up?" She continues and her delicate hands are placed in her lap as she regards her fellow musician with a stare, eyebrow quirked on one side.

"It wasn't just one person that made me feel that way, too many to count." She says finally and chuckles softly at distant memories at the verge of resurfacing but she'd take painful memories any day over the imagery of the visions she has during the night.

"Yeah," Sable says, nodding soberly, though she wears a crooked smile, "but don't make th' dread 'f hittin' th' bottom any less, nor less painful when y' do, nor less tiresome t' pick yerself back up 'gain," she sidles over closer to Eve, entering conversational proximity, easing into her acquaintance. "But I'll have you know, doll, I'm an expert 't catchin' gals mid-fall. So, if y' wanna cut th' whole glorious, miserable descent short-" she tips a wink, "y'all jus' call me."

The young woman unslings the guitar from her back and unzips the outer pocket of its bag, pulling out a mess of papers, beginning to shuffle them in her hands, trying to get them straight. "Aw… but lookit me here showin' off what an awful fuckin' messy creative process I got. How'd you get the melody y'all jus' played, sweetie? 'N' those lyrics, how long it take you t' get 'em right?"

"Heh, I'll be sure to call out for help from you if I start to tumble down." Eve says with a light grin, teasing Sable as she watches the shorter woman work, getting papers together and such. The older musician's eyes widen slightly and then she tilts her head up towards the ceiling.

"An hour." She replies to her question, that's Eve's thing. She's a songwriting machine, always has been. "I finished it really fast." She comments further.

"See, like, f'r me it starts easy," Sable says, pausing her speech to hold a piece of paper in her mouth while she sorts through what she has in her hands, "mmm," she plucks the paper out, "but it gets harder, puttin' it all t'gether. I'm always thinkin' on t' th' next b'fore I'm honest t' God finished with what I already begun," she gives Eve a sheepish grin, "but I'm big on production, f'r this here project 't least. So it ain't easy t' jus'… have it be done, dig?"

"I see." Eve nods her head towards Sable and her grey eyes take in the rest of the studio. "I'm so laid back with it.. I haven't ever actually recorded any of my songs.. ever. And I've been writing since I was 16.. and have so much written.. I need a file cabinet to hold them all.. if that's even enough." Eve chuckles and then she's staring more intently at Sable's papers. "What project is this, that you're working on?"

The songstress stretches, arching her back for a moment before she's in a relaxed position. Enjoying the company that Sable is giving her. Though.. she's never thought of partnering with the other sex.. Eve likes men too much she thinks.

Sable's eyes fix, owlish, on Eve as she confesses to her veritable archive. "That so?" she says, sounding intrigued and maybe a little impressed, though you didn't hear me say that, "I been at th' music game f'r that long too, but was movin' too much t' ever, like, get nothin' down that I knew I could hold onto. That sounds like a real fuckin'- like- I dunno," her vocabulary presents her with no term suitable to encapsulate, "That's somethin' I'd like t' see, though," she lifts a brow, "if our acquaintance goes good, hon, mebbe y'll show it t' me sometime?"

At the mention of her own project, Sable waves the papers she has in her hands, all of them handwritten entirely, scrawled upon with terrifically messy and undisciplined writing. "Jus', like… a concept album, sorta with some rock opera in there. Like I said, big ol' production thang. Hopin' I c'n give it 'nuff polish."

"I'm thirty-one now, so yeah I have a pretty large collection." Eve looks a tad bit impressed with herself, but she's not cocky about much. So music is all she's got. And well.. her dreams of the future. The raven haired beauty blinks and looks suddenly excited at what Sable says is her solo project. "Rock Opera?"

"That sounds right up my alley." She admits with a chuckle, "I want to open a performance space one day soon.. and every kind of music will be played there. I was thinking of even have a bit of rock and opera mesh one day as a full on show." Just ideas that she doesn't have the resources to bring to life, at least not yet.

"I'd love to hear the finished product, we'll trade. I'll let you hear my EP and then you can let me hear your solo project." She says with a slight grin as she closes her eyes.

Sable gives a laugh. "Opera? Shit, no not opera like… big wop type fellas in tuxes singin' real loud. Rock opera like- like Tommy, dig? Or Quadrophenia," she gives a grin, "somethin' 'f a disciple 'f Townshend I am, y' see."

A tilt of the head, a peer of interest. "Yer own space, eh? How deep in th' pipe is that there dream 'f yers. Is it all cloud thoughts 'n' mind bubbles, or are y' eyein' real estate?"

"My mistake." Eve says with a dip of her head and she's off looking around the studio now. At the asking of her dream venue, she tilts her head. "In my head for now, might stay in my head forever. The way things are spiraling down." It's almost as if Eve has switched personality, her eyes lidded as she stares at the wall and nothing else.

"You should try and finish that album quickly," she says in a low tone, "Before everything is gone." Her eerie light grey eyes flick from the vocal booth to the door.

Sable seems unfazed by Eve's sudden affective shift. She takes it well in stride, in fact, nodding her head and giving a grunt of agreement. "It ain't f'r no fuckin' reason th' topic 'f my project is th' end 'f th' world. Plenny 'f inspiration t' be found these days, these parts 'specially."

"It's so depressing." Eve breathes and then she's standing abruptly. "I'll see you around." She says with a blank expression on her face. "I have to.." she looks at the clock. "Go." She says quietly and then she's scooping up her messenger bag. "Will you let me listen to some of your stuff one day?" she asks in a grave tone, as if they don't do it soon.. then they will never get a chance too.

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