Participants:
| Scene Title | Never Thought About It |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lyrical interpretations and stranger's maladies sometimes go unnoticed, but both are brought to light when Quinn meets Nora properly. |
| Date | January 9, 2011 |
Pollepel Island wasn't exactly where Robyn Quinn had expected to find herself this weekend. Or, well… not for the reasons she was here, anyway. The trip had originally intended to consist of seeing if there was anything she could do on the mainland, checking up on folks, and generally trying to be as much of a help as she could before she got tied down with work at Studio K.
That, of course, had been fore she realised that Elaine Darrow may have taken a trip to the island, to clear her mind or see what she could do or whatever bullshit would constitute leaving a crummy note and taking off.
So far, that line of investigation hadn't turned up anything. The only tall redhead that people had seen about was Rue, and even she didn't seem to be around at the moment. Which had left Quinn with a bit of unease, some questions, and very little to do to pass the time as she waited for Nadira to finish her business with Griff, whatever she had gone tot alk to him about. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind her coming back tot he island to help Quinn babysit.
But for now, she's reclaimed the keyboard she left behind on her last trip and replaced the batteries, setting up in a corner of a hallway, intending to kill some time providing music for anyone who would listen, until she was told it was too late and she needed to shut up so that people could sleep. Her pieces have largely been unrecognisable - original, of her own writing, altered parts of songs and the like, though at this moment the sounds of Green Sleeves echo down the hall, Quinn looking only half interested as her fingers move over the plastic keys.
There is the soft whisk of cloth along faux-stone wall as Nora's hand trails along, guiding her down the hallway, the sound accompanied by the soft and dull percussion of the soft-soled shearling boots hitting the ground in tentative tempo. And finally, a voice as Nora comes around the corner, stopping a couple of feet before the musician's niche.
"Got a coffee cup? I'll throw in the dollar someone left in this Goodwill sweater, but it's my entire fortune," the blind girl says lightly, her eyes near but not quite on Quinn's face.
Wrapped up in playing as she's gotten, there's a bit of a start from Quinn as she's addressed, but her hands don't flater as they work across the keys. She smiles in Nora's direction, not entirely aware that the gesture can't be seen. "If I did, it would probablya ctually be full of coffee," she replies with a laugh and a shake of her head. "glad t' know someone likes hearin' me play though. I think I've gotten a few "Can't you turn that down" comments, but that's about it. The Irishwoman's head tilts, foot tapping for a moment. "Nora, right?" Granted, she only knows that because she ehard Howard call teh girl by that name. "You're welcome t' sit an' listen, if you want."
Nora nods at her name, fingers moving from the wall to her pockets for warmth. Peeking through the swoop of dark hair that partially obstructs non-seeing eyes, there is still bruising to the side of her face, now turning green and blue and purple from where Brian's head collided with her cheekbone and temple.
"Sure," she says, though she doesn't move to sit, instead backing up and leaning against the wall. "You're good," she says a moment later, as if remembering that it's polite to compliment others. "Not my favorite song, though. A little medieval for my blood."
Quinn quirks an eyebrow, looking from Nora down to the keys. "It's a soothing song, at least for me. Nice, quiet. Something I ocould sleep to. Not one a' my favourites, but…" Fitting of her mood goes unsaid as she makes a few more keystrokes. "An' thanks! Always good t' hear I'm doing somethin' right. Makes me feel less nervous about things." She chuckles a bit, bringing the song to an end as she leans back in her seat. "If you've got any requests, I'll give it a go if I know it." There's a pause, and then Quinn turns, offering a hand wthout realising better. "Robyn Quinn, I don't think I've introduced m'self before."
"It's soothing. I can see that. I play the quiet Beatles stuff when I need that, or maybe like, Cat Stevens or even Elton John. But you know, like old Elton John, Elegy for a Friend era?" Nora says, the music talk bubbling up a little more readily.
The hand goes unnoticed, and her own don't come out of her pockets to accept the proffered shake. "Nora Rosenthal," she replies when Quinn introduces herself. "Nice to meet you. Properly, I guess. I remember you guys played a bit back. You are good. I didn't meant to disrespect your taste. Sorry." The latter comes a little stilted, and her gaze drops a little.
Quinn's hand lingers for a moment,fingers flexing once before she retracts with a shrug. Guess some people just don't like shaking hands! "What? No, no disrespect, you're fine," she replies with an amused laugh. "Oh, yeah. That was… me, Huruma, Abby, an' Eileen. With that keytar, I must seem daft."
Shifting a bit in her set, she makes a few setting changes on her keyboard as she talks. "Your tastes, however, sound absoultely fantastic. Though I admit t' not bein' the biggest Elton John fan, he certainly has some wonderful songs." Fingers flex, and settle down on keys. "Anyway, it's nice t' meet you for real, Nora. You're welcome t' sing along t' this one, if you want." And with that, Quinn's fingers move over keys, a short introduciton played to make sure she has the right key, before turning into what is recognisably The Beatles' "Let It Be".
"My voice isn't as good as my playing, but I can try," Nora says with a chuckle. "And yeah, I don't like EJ for a lot myself, but some of his old stuff was decent. Not my favorite, but if I'm going for mellow. I'm more into the Doors and Pink Floyd and The Who and people like that, to be honest."
When the time comes for vocals, Nora lends her voice to the song, though she harmonizes here and there to let Quinn take the melody line. Her brows knit together a little at particular words. "Darkness." "See." She huffs slightly with exasperation and her eyes rise up to stare blindly at the ceiling midsong, her voice cutting off.
"The Who. Now there's somethin' fantastic. You'd probably get along real well with m' friend Sable." And with that, Quinn launches full into the song, taking the melody just as Nora had intended. SHe's happy to hear the other woman singing along, not too many people are willing to indulge her when she asks them to join in.
Nora abruptly dropping out of the song, however, has Quinn slowing to a stop as she looks over at the otehr woman. "SOmethin' wrong?" she asks curiously, her head tilting. "I didn't, like… pick a song with some bad memories attached or somethin' did I?" Her tone is apologetic, like someone who knows they jsut did something wrong - even if Quinn isn't entirely sure she did.
She isn't crying. If anything, the teenager's gaze is more stony than the fake stone of the walls that surround them as her eyes seem to pierce through that spot in the ceiling. At Quinn's question, she shakes her head, brows knitting as she finally brings her chin down. "It's one of my favorites," she says, voice flat.
"It's just so fucking passive," she adds, more irritably now, emotion flooding into her voice as she turns her face toward Quinn but seems to look through her. "Let it be… how the fuck is shit supposed to get better if you just 'let it be'?" she demands, as if Quinn should have an answer to this question.
Nora chuckles bitterly, without humor. "I always loved this song, but I never really thought about it until now."
Really, Quinn's never thought about it that way either. She quirks her lips a bit, letting out a small sigh. "It doesn't," she admits with a shake of her head. "You got t' do somethin' t' make things better. Even if somethin' small, you know? But…" she reaches back, scratching the back of her head.
"I dunno. I never really thought of the song that way. Amazin' how a song can lend itself t' interpretations, isn't it?" The question is meant to diffuse the sudden bitterness a bit, but Quinn's been watching Nora a bit sicne she arrived, how she was trailing along the wall, remembering her when she'd seen her before, the way she seems to look past her… it's like pieces are beginning to fall into place in her head, Tetris style.
"Be the change you want to see in the world," Nora murmurs — her advice to small Lighthouse children on the night of the Eclipse. It's a motto in her life, even if she's not quite as pacifist as the man who spoke the words originally.
She shrugs. "Sorry though. It's a lovely song, and you play and sing so well. I should… you know. Just learn to not ruin things, being …" her hand comes up to gesture vaguely, before she gives a soft snort. "Seventeen, I guess. That's what most people'd probably blame it on. Mood swings, hormones. Maybe lack of sunlight, being indoors all the time."
Quinn doesn't seem to recognise the words as anything spoken by a famous man, but she does sit up a bit when Nora murmurs. "I've never heard that before," she admits, smiling. "I think that's fantastic advice." She might be taken it in a meaning more leaning towards how it's meant, but she believes it regardless.
There's a bit of a rueful smile as she rises up from her seat behind the keyboard, stepping aside. "You're not ruining things, I promise. Things are still pretty tesnse an'… I dunno, I try not t' hang aorund here too much. I don't find it as stifiling as other, but…" she shrugs a bit, assuming that Nora hasn't lef tsince the last time Quinn saw her. "You said you play? You're welcome t' take out some of your frustrations on my keyboard if you want. I'd love t' hear somethin'."
Nora looks tentative for a moment, teeth raking over her lower lip before it curves into a little bit of a smirk. "You might appreciate this one," she murmurs, slightly mischievously. "Even if it's not … meant for keyboard, really. We'll see what I can do."
She takes a step toward the keyboard, then lifts her hand out. "I need help," is softly spoken, cheeks flushing a little. "I don't want to knock over your keyboard, but I can't see, if you haven't noticed." It's clearly hard for her to ask the stranger for help.
Aha, there it is. Quinn blinks a moment, sudenly feeling like an ass. "Oh. Oh!. Christ, I am a total heel, I- I'm sorry," she says apologetically. "I didn't really realised, I- am an ass." Stepping back towards Nora, moving to help her towards the keyboard, moving the instrument a bit closer so that Nora doesn't have to move as far to get to it.
If allowed, she takes Nora's hands and places them in teh centre of the keyboard, allowing her hopfully to get her bareing on the instrument better. "I'm curious as t' what you have picked out, though," she comments amicably after a moment, stepping back and allowing Nora o situate hsrself on her own, unless more help is requested.
The teen actually laughs at the apology. "You're not. I … try not to stare like a zombie, you know? Makes me glad to know I can pull it off. Not looking like a zombie, that is." She lets Quinn help her, though her cheeks flush a little more. Accepting the help comes at a cost to her pride.
She moves her hands on the keys, pressing a couple until she finds the right note. "Like I said, it's not one that's really a keyboard song. Should have strings." She shrugs. "Kinda feeling it out… haven't played it before."
A few chords are struck, getting the right key, then the melody line for "Belfast Child" is played out once, before Nora's voice joins in to sing the first verse.
"Wish I'd know. I'd've brought my violin," Quinn remarks with a wide smie, falling silent once Nora begins to play, arms crossing as she leans against the wall beside her. Her head bobs as she listens, clearly enjoying the tune, though it takes her until Nora starts to sing for her to place it. Once she does, she straightens a bit, smiling wide.
"Heey, wait. I know this. Simple Minds, right?" She sounds amused and eager, hopiing she got her guess right. "I haven't head this song in… I don't know how long. They don't really play anything that long on the radio over her, an' I have dug out my copy of that record in ages…"
She hums along a bit alongside Nora, choosing not to sing (mostly because she can't remember all the words), hoping that her quiet addition doesn't throw off the blind girl any.
The teenager smiles when Quinn recognizes the song, and she nods. Once she's sung the last note, she murmurs, "I grew up on old records. I'm probably like the only person my age who knows who some of those bands are, right? But when I hear the current stuff, I don't like it as much anyway. Some of it, but nothing beats the old stuff really. Not to me."
Her fingers idly play, falling into some unfamiliar melody, tinkering with it, changing it from a major tune to a minor one, then letting it evolve into something else. "How many instruments do you play? I'm trying to learn guitar, but I'm struggling a little. It wasn't that easy anyway — not like keyboard, but now that I can't check my fingering and such, it's even worse," she adds.
"You'd get along with some friends a' mine," Quinn says with a chuckle, crossing her arms as she looks over at NOra. "If you bump int' Cat here on the island… she said pretty much the same thing you did. About current music an' nothin' beatin' the old stuff. Sable too, if she's ever around."
Watching Nora play a bit more, Quinn shrugs. "I grew up on a lotta stuff, an' I have lots a' love for older music. The Beatles, The Who, Queen, Boston, Journey, The Cure… but my love is with the modern indie scenes." Leaning forward a bit, Quinn watches Nora's hands more carefully. "Ah, well… I play piano, violin, guitar, bass… I'm relearnin' harp at the moment too. I do a lot with more electronic stuff too. Synthesisers, tenori-ons, stuff like that."
There's a smirk at the mention of Quinn's friends. "I'm sure I would. Anyone who likes music and doesn't call country or rap or any of that shit music is a friend of mine," Nora says lightly, relinquishing her metaphorical hold on the keyboard and stepping aside carefully so her feet don't tangle in the stands' legs.
"What's a tenorian — I don't even know that one." She reaches to tuck her hair behind her ears, retaking her spot by the wall.
"Hey now," Quinn replies in a mock chiding tone as she retakes her seat behind the keyboard, laughing. "One a' my favourite indie artists does some country inspired work. Not really- country itself, but you can hear a bit of taht twang every now an' then." She smirks, settling back in and drumming her fingers across some keys. "I think most things can be music to one person or another. Doesn't mean I like it though. Rap? No thanks."
Fingers move across keys again, this time starting to play something more fast paced, something unfamiliar to Nora. "A tenori-on is… weird. They just came out a few years ago. They're Japanese, an' a lot of artists who do a lot of electronic music use 'em. Little Boots is a good one, if you've ever heard a' her. They're like small, programable soundboards. Sixteen rows and columns of LED switches, dials for beats per minute and general sound. They're veyr interesting an' fun littel devices."
"Oh," Nora says, sounding a little embarrassed for her ignorance. "No, I haven't heard of her."
She tucks her hands back into her pockets, nodding her head in time to the music. "I guess that's true, though — music means different things to different people. Like any art. Like anything important. Philosophy, religion, art, politics."
She listens for a moment more, smiling. "I like that, too. But," she says, pulling a hand out to place on the wall, "I should probably go find my bed or someone will come wondering where I am and think I fell down a trapdoor I didn't see."
"No worries. I know a lot a' people who haven't. I dunno if it's up your ally, but I'll play you some sometime." Quinn smiles warmly, hoping the sentiment reaches Nora even if she can't see it. "Thanks. An' thanks for listenin'. It's nice t' have someone t' talk t'. About music, but just general around here. Which reminds me, you haven't heard anyone about with a Scottish accent about?"
With that asked, she ceases her playing, leaning back against the wall. "Have a good rest a' the evenin', Nora. If you ever wanna play, an' I'm around, jsut ask. Or come by if you're on the mainland!" Not that Nora knows where she lives. "An' be safe." Not just because of ehr eyesight, either.
"No… no Scots that I know of, just lots of Brits, an Italian, and whatever Huruma is, that I can think of," the blind girl responds, smiling once more and giving a wave. "It was nice to meet you, Robyn."
Nora begins to navigate herself down the hallway she came from, disappearing into the darkness and from Quinn's view.