Participants:
| Scene Title | Duet |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Two women with extraordinary gifts tear a hole into the future, through the power of song. |
| Date | October 16, 2011 |
Dim light floods the white-walled sanctum of Else Kjelstrom. From in her round, bay window, synthetic rain streaked on faux glass at her back, she looks more relaxed than she has in years. Clean, truly clean from the Refrain, she is a shade more flush with color and filled with a sense of life and purpose, muddied by hints of confusion and a moment of something that she can't quite recall. Her legs are folded beneath her, acoustic guitar in her lap, and eyes trained on a much younger woman seated in the same posture on a pillow down on the floor.
"So," Else strums a string, tuning the guitar. "Y'ever sang b'fore?" One of the prophetic musician's brows raise. At the question, Julie Fournier offers a warm, enthusiastic smile accompanied by a shake of her head. There's a crooked, mirthful smile that dances across Else's lips, and she plucks another string. "Can I tell y'a secret?" Her dark eyes flick to Julie for a moment, and the girl doesn't respond, just leans forward eagerly.
Else lets the question go unanswered, for a moment, tuning a few more strings. "I never was taught properly," there's a raise of both of Else's brows at that. "I don't even sing well, classically. I just've — let it out?" She smirks, tuning another string. "Singing with someone else hides the imperfections, too. If y'can harmonize, y'pick up each other's slack."
"I understand harmonies," Julie finally speaks up. "Papa has me read quite a lot, and musical literature is fascinating. I had to study the frequencies of sound in order to understand how — "
"Oi, baby bird," Else laughs and shakes her head. "S'not a classroom, yeah? Jus', relax. If y'can do what Luis says y'can, we'll make beautiful music together." Another twist of a key, and Else seems satisfied with the acoustic guitar's tuning. Julie flushes red at the gentle chastisement, hunching her shoulders forward and offering Else an apologetic smile.
Else strums a few chords, then nods to herself. "Ok, I'll get us started," Else instructs, "and you join in when you feel it." Julie nods in agreement, clearing her throat at the same time. She scoots a little closer to Elle, watching as the older woman begins plucking at guitar strings, then strumming a steady riff. Julie watches, mystified, as Else's eyes begin to cloud a milky white and lid partway, as though she were staring through everything.
"Oh mother, can you tell me?" Else begins, letting her voice hang in silence after the last note.
"Tell me, where we're going?" Her voice cracks with a tone of desperation, and Julie exhales a sigh as her eyes begin to cloud white as well, throat works up and down in the silence, and then —
"Oh mother, can you show me?" Her voice is a higher pitch than Else's voice made coarse and rough by years of smoking.
"Show me, where we began?" But Julie's voice also has a hint of desperation in it.
"Oh mother, can you tell me?" Else slips back in, and the pair of prophets form a sympathetic rhythm.
"How long, we have to go." Julie finishes her verse, and then to two break out into a harmony together.
"Far, far, far, from the pages we've unturned"
"Far, far, far, all the faces have changed"
And then, they're perfectly in synch with one another.
"Oh, from up here we can see forever"
"But that doesn't feel like so long anymore"
"Oh, from down here we can reach for the sky"
"But that doesn't feel quite so hard anymore"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the place we came from"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the light and the dark"
"Oh we're far, far, far, but there's miles yet to go!"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the shadow below!"
"Oh, from far away all our troubles look small"
"But that doesn't help us forget how they've come"
"Oh, from right here we remember the lost"
"But that doesn't help us who survived the fall!"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the place we came from"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the light and the dark"
"Oh we're far, far, far, but there's miles yet to go!"
"Oh we're far, far, far, from the shadow below!"
"Oh mother, can you sing?"
"To me, a song"
"Oh mother, can you tell?"
"A story, to come"
"Oh mother, do you hear it?"
"The voice of the sun"
"Oh mother, did you know?"
"We've been here before"
"But we're far, far, far, from our life and our love"
"We're too far, far, far, from the safety of home"
"Oh we're far, far, far, but we're not looking back"
"We're gone, gone, gone, and the way back is closed!"
"The way back is closed!"
"The way back…"
"…is closed."
As the paired sybils both drop from their prophetic reverie at the same time, Julie looks around in wild-eyed bewilderment. "Did — did it work?" There's an expression of confusion on her face, on ehand pressing to the side of her head. "I… I think I lost some time there, some kind of autohypnotic response to — "
"Gosh," Else interrupts, "y'sure do like y'big words." The musician cracks a smile and motions over to a recording device on the nearby table. "S'how it works, baby bird. Go on," she motions for Julie to get up.
"Why don't we see how it worked?"