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| Scene Title | The Rise Of Mad Muse |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The announcement of a unique opportunity mixed with the blessing of meeting a new band member marks the beginning of the future for Mad Muse. |
| Date | November 19, 2010 |
Village Renaissance: Quinn's Flat
It would seem that the month of November is meant to be a monumentous month indeed. And not, actually, because of the riots, or the violence, or any of the less savoury topics that had come to pass in the last few weeks, that filled the news with tales of despair and decay, that had made people think the end of the world. No, this was something much more important than that.
It seemed that this month might finally be the month Mad Muse becomes complete at last. Surely something that will go down in infamy.
Robyn Quinn had returned home to many exciting bits of news. Not only had Magnes left her a message claiming that he had hired a drummer for the band, but she had also discovered an email inviting her on a radio show to talk music in the coming week. What exciting times we live in indeed!
They had only arrived back form Pollepel early, early this morning, and Quinn herself had proceeded to drag Sable and Elaine back to her pace so she could pass out for a few more hours. But now awake and attuned to the world around her, the first thing Quinn had set to do was call Adel up and invite her over to her place to meet the band.
Now, it had just been a matter of waiting until that fateful knock on the door.
Naps are good. Elaine enjoyed the opportunity to nap, especially considering how early they'd left. The island was nice… but it was a bit stifling. And it had no cell phone reception. Curled up on the couch, the redhead's nose-deep in a book, waiting around. She's not an official member of the band, but the pretty redhead considers herself the band's official second opinion on things and first groupie.
There's a good wait until the gentle rap can be heard on the door. For something so fateful, it's soft and gentle, like someone knocking with gloves on. Probably because she is. The young woman, just into her twenties, looks to be wrought with anticipation, wringing her fingers after her hands fall away and looking at the front door with that nervousness of a young woman with a new job about to meet her boss. Both exciting and scary all at once. Despite the anxiety, she doesn't look like a deer in headlights. She's handling the stress with an excited smile on her face, and anxious bounce on her toes as she stands and waits.
It is only this prophetically good news that could possibly motivate Sable to wake up as horrifically early as she does. She had intended to go on the 'first boat' but… come on, are we going to hold her to it? It's an expression, more than anything else.
But this, this is worth it. Too good to be true, in fact. And so Sable has refused to talk about it at all after the initial report. Her hopes will not be so raised only to be shattered.
This is much easier to achieve when once is totally unconscious, and as such Sable's been cultivating that state for the duration. Huddled next to Elaine on the couch, she snoozes, at least until there's that knock on the door. Something about that sound, destiny calling, reaches Sable even in the depths of her rest. Her yellow eyes flutter open and she looks around. "Wha' w'z tha'?" is her mumbled, semi-conscious question.
Leaning in and pressing a kiss to Sable's forehead and ruffling her hair, Elaine gets to her feet slowly. "That'd be our guest." While she's had some time to recuperate, her knee's still not up to perfection and so she hobbles over to the door, reaching a hand to open it for Adel. She offers a warm smile. "Hi!"
"Hi!" comes an a voice that sounds two parts excited, and one part… like there's something stuck in her throat. That's what happens when someone has a new job, after all. Adel begins to pull the gloves off by the fingertips as she glances around the taller girl's shoulders. "Um— I'm Adel… Starkey— it's not my real last name, but, you know, drummer, band…" There's a moment where she looks up, as if to add 'i hope she knows…' "Can I come in?" Then there's an 'oh crap' moment. "This is the right place right?"
“Is that her?!” A voice rings out from a room at the back of the apartment – the one who’s door hangs open, the sound of scuffing metal and plastic emanating from the other side of those walls. “Shit, hold on a moment…” There’s a few moments of silence before Robyn Quinn walks out, threading dyed red hair behind her ear, and two drumsticks in the other hand. “Hello!” She calls out as she approaches the door. “Come on in, you must be Adel!”
Elaine gestures inside, stepping out of the way to let Adel in. "C'mon in. I'm Elaine, that's Quinn and Sable, and you've already met Magnes, so I guess it's our turn to interrogate you."
With all this excitement, Adel can't help but laugh a little. There's something nervous about it, but cheerful at the same time. "Yeah, that's me, nice to meet you!" She says, slipping into the apartment, and looking at the drumsticks with a tilt of her head. "I knew you probably wouldn't really really take me as drummer until all of you hear me… And you must be Sable," she says, seeing the young cat-like woman on the couch. Perhaps because of the way she talked to identify her. "I'm willing to audition again, if that's what the sticks are for. I know I'm good. Maybe not Ringo-good, but— I'm working on it."
The free hand is offered to Adel, a wide grin on Quinn’s face as she moves to usher Adel in. “Actually, the sticks are for you t’ have, but we’ll worry about that in a minute,” she says, slipping the sticks into her pocket – close up, they don’t look quite like normal wooden sticks. Rather, black plastic for these. “I don’t- think you’ll need another audition. Doesn’t mean I won’t get y’ t’ jam with us though so we see how you play.” Still smiling, Quinn walks her way towards the middle of the room. For someone like Adel, first entering Quinn’s apartment for teh first time, it’s clear the woman is into music and movies. A single couch sits in the middle of the room (with another wayward chair or two off to the side) with a wide TV in front of it, filled with sci-fi, action, and music DVDs, the wall by the open at the door of the back of the room filled with racks of TVs and band tour posters, only leaving a little room for the desk and computer that sit on it.
“Robyn Quinn, by the way. Pleasure t’ meet you. I’m glad someone finally decided t’ come drum for us! And you couldn’t have come at a better time at all, either!”
At any other time and in any other circumstances, some comment as to Adel's cuteness would certainly be forthcoming, at least as soon as the young supplicant stepped into yellow-eyed view. Sable certainly doesn't fail to notice by any stretch, but the appraisal Adel receives is much closer to assessment and calculation than leer.
"Yeah, hon," Sable confirms, "thass me." Keeping to her feline thematic, she prowls up over the couch's arm and paces around to the side of Adel, sizing her up. Taller than she, but what's new. Long hair - okay, she guesses. Sable's used to supplying compensatory butch. Doesn't seem extra crazy, which is a blessing when it comes to drummers, perennially addled as percussionists traditionally are.
"Gotta be takin' exception, hon, t' the exception that's been offered. Magnes ain't a total dope, but he also ain't th' band entire, plus th' boy don't know th' first thing 'bout audition-type, like… customs," Sable says, stalking around Adel and getting a three-sixty look at her, "'n' hard up as we've been f'r a drummer, this ain't a shoe-in. Beggin' t' contradict comrade Quinn, I'm gonna go 'head 'n' say that this is for real yer audition, 'n' y' better show me what y' got Starkey, 'cause I'm th' conductor on this were gravy train, 'n' I need t' make sure y' got the constitution f'r high-type altitudes 'cause I'm drivin' this thing t' th' top. Casey Jones better watch t' fuck out."
"Whatever the case, you can play drums and band or not, I'm sure we're keeping you in some aspect, just because these musician types stick together." Elaine clearly doesn't think of herself in the same category, moving towards the couch and sprawling on it almost carelessly. "I'm just here to audition you as a person. Gotta make sure you aren't secretly a killer trying to take out the people I care about." There's a teasing tone.
It becomes easy enough to find someone you're looking for, given you let it have enough time; Delilah has spent the last few days or so readjusting to life without a beach ball, and life with a tiny person. There is always a learning curve, but Dee's managed to pick up her pace and patience to meet Walter's ten day old needs. There is only the faint rubbing of rubber tires on thin carpet before a new, unexpected knock comes rapping onto the door; luck, that she actually found them, maybe- she had the tickling feeling that the girls(and Magnes) would be settling right back into whatever they were doing before the 8th.
Delilah has one of those new-fangled strollers- those ones that are like the Escalades of the baby world- sturdy things that can be used from infanthood to toddlers, it flips and flops and folds- but right now, it looks simple- a bassinet stroller, navy blue, the baby nestled warmly inside while his mother goes around hunting lesbians.
"Hey girls, I have a present." Comes quite cheekily from the other side of the door, while she waits for a go-ahead to come in, or someone to grab it.
Despite the nervousness she'd shown, Adel withstands the drill-instructor Sable fairly well, smile brushing her lips. In fact she seems more comfortable being put in her place. "Casey Jones is the guy with the hockey mask and the stick right? You'd probably make a good version of him at Halloween." It's not a diss, either. "Magnes said you were the boss, so I know I gotta get past you first. But I look forward to the challenge. And I can do more than play the drums. I learned guitar, acoustic only, and I can dance, but I like the drums more, and I'm glad I have good timing." There's a wide eyed glance toward the door at squeaking, the knock, and the voice. Audience member #2? Cause it definitely doesn't sound like Magnes.
The mention of acoustic guitar has Quinn perking up, and the sound of Delilah’s voice doing the same – if there is a maximum level of perking one can do, Quinn is assuredly reaching it. “Holy shit, Delilah!” Adel isn’t forgotten for a moment, but Quinn is assuredly distracted when. “Come on in, you’re just in time for a fun afternoon?” There’s a pause as she looks around the room, like she’s looking for something. “Shit, and you have Walter, don’t you? I better see where Schrödinger got off to, I hear the last baby who was here entertained herself by tugging on his ears…”
Letting out an amused sigh, Quinn turns back to Adel and shrugs. “Well, I guess her word overrules mine. Sorry.” But then she creeps up into a smile, a hand placed on Adel’s shoulder. “But don’t sweat it! I actually trust Magnes with bein’ a decent judge of talent, so I figure you’ll do fine, an’ I know just the way for you t’ audition and pass on through, so we can have our band a’ three pretty women an’ Magnes!” She turns, pointing a finger at Sable, it moving between her, Adel, and Quinn herself as she speaks. “We are going to spend the next few days up on teh studio floor, girls. Adel will get a trial by fire.”
"Naw, I'm jus' talkin' 'bout the Dead song," Sable says, vis a vis Casey Jones. This reference wasn't part of the audition test, though, at least it doesn't seem to be. Sable's tone is offhanded. Not everyone can understand every insane thing she says, and even in her insanity she understands that.
Sable stops her pacing right in front of Adel and draws herself up, weird yellow eyes glowering at the greenhorn, ready, perhaps, to declare that the trials have begun. But that's not how things end up happening. Instead, there's a familiar voice from the door. Manchester accent. Cheeky demeanor. Trouble.
Understand Sable's dilemma: she has two imperatives to follow in this instant, ones not easily reconciled. If this is audition time, then a strict protocol must be followed, by which fear and humility is insisted upon, and in which the experience of being judged - constant - should give the judgee no sense of the judger's judgement. If you follow. But if this it Delilah-time, then a strict protocol must be followed by which Sable lavishes her with deference and attention, the kind of display that isn't particularly useful in establishing one's absolute, arbitrational authority.
There's a moment where you can almost see the fuses blowing in Sable's brain as she desperately tries to figure out how she's supposed to act. Luckily, Quinn saves the day. Trial by fire? That sounds scary. "This here," Sable informs Adel quickly, "is th' personal-type assessment were we see how y' get on with th' band 'n' our nearest 'n' dearest. 'n' t' that purpose," the dark haired rocker tips over to one side and peeks over at Delilah, giving her a wide grin, "we got ourselves a visitor 'bout as near 'n' dear as they come."
To the door right then and there, Dee getting a big wink and a low bow. "You lose weight, darlin'? Where'd it- oh!" she grins as her eyes 'find' Walter's stroller, "there it is."
"He's not big enough to be harassing cats, Quinn." Delilah laughs from half behind the door as she reaches to open it up. She comes in to Sable's reception and Elaine's panicky jumping to get the door for her; she takes a look over the quartet before breaking her smile wider to practically take over her face. All in one piece, and a new face, to boot. The stroller wheels smoothly inside the door like a little sailboat, coasting to a halt when Dee only stops to let Elaine close the door again. Lilah isn't sure how to take Sable's wittiness, so she seems to settle for a laugh, and a small bow of her head in return.
"You tell me, Elaine." Delilah grins and sidles half a step so the other redhead can get a look at Walter, and likely, Sable too if she finds it within her authoritative boundaries. Tucked away in warmth, mostly dozing off, pale face and a sprout of orange hair peeking out from under a tiny cap. Awake is subjective, here- Dee can tell now, that he's secretly checking things out beyond the arc of the basinet, but his squinting can always be mistaken for tiredness. His mother sighs a large sigh, smiling at the air.
"I had him in Abby's car, though."
If Sable hadn't been able to startle her, even with calling her on her lack of Dead knowledge, the baby seems to all together have a different affect on Adel. A quick step back, she looks at the small mulling thing with wide brown eyes and even a sense of… awkwardness. Babies must frighten her, especially small and fragile ones.
"In a car? That— had to be uncomfortable… And hi— I'm Adel, attempting to be the band's new drummer and I swear I'm not a crazy serial killer— no more crazy than most people."
“It’s not entirely him harassing the cat I’m worried about,” Quinn replies dryly as she flashes Delilah a grin and a wave. Unlike Elaine, she’s not in a rush to see the baby – she will get to it shortly, but the music takes precedence. Plus, babies still make her a little uneasy, even if she’s getting more accustomed to them. “Same rule I told Melissa! Baby’s fine, but please, lord, don’t let him get anythin’ anywhere.” A look is given down at the stroller, Quinn giving a bit of a wave to Walter before she brings ehr attention back upwards.
“See, here’s the deal,” Quinn replies, hand removed from Adel’s shoulder as she starts back towards the back bedroom. “I got an email while we were gone. Apparently Melissa an’ Nadira put in a word with this guy they met at Tartarus, right?” Pausing when she reaches the door way, she turns back to everyone. “He does a radio show, and he wants me t’ come on it an’ talk about music an’ other stuff.” She gives that a moment to sink in, before disappearing into her bedroom.
“So!” she shouts back out, “I could just talk about my own music, take the work that Cat an’ I did, finish it up as best as I can, and take it with me. But I thought… why not pimp out Mad Muse a bit, eh?”
Up on tiptoes Sable goes, such that her nose touches the rose of Dee's cheek. A light peck is placed just below, before the now second-littlest of the assembled settles back onto her heels and sidles over to get a look at the little shit machine. This is, by no means, what she calls Walter aloud. But Sable has more past experience with babies than one might imagine, and 'shit machine' is, in fact, her sort of general, undifferentiated label for larval humans. It was either that or 'drooling klaxon'.
"Welcome t' th' world," Sable says to Walter, peering down at the chubby little thing, "you grow up 'n' treat yer momma right or Auntie Sable's gonna have somethin' t' say about it, dig?" There. Now Walter knows the ground rules. Those needed to be established as early on as was possible.
"Adel, come on over," Sable says, motioning for the aspirant Starkey to join the assembled, "Dee, yer a fine judge 'f character, like. Y'all chat a bit, get a sense," she squints at Adel with one weird eye "act natural." Which is exactly what everyone does the moment they're told to. Clearly.
Quinn's news is, with due respect to the miracle of life, kind of a big deal for Sable. She spins in place as the Irishwoman sneakily disappears after delivering the news. "Y' fuckin' serious? Holy shit Quinngirl! That's goddamn fantastic!" Sable is beaming, the lumens of her smile turned up to stadium-lighting levels. "Shit, but if that ain't just how it's s'pposed t' go down." She spins around to face Adel again.
"Fair warnin' Starkey," Sable says, tapping the side of her nose, "this here band's been tied t'gether by th' inescapable bonds of destiny. Time itself is actin' on our behalf. So, like, if yer with us f'r reals, I expect a sign or omen 'bout you."
"Abby's car? Oh, ohhh. Please tell me it was quick and you weren't in labor for hours… was Abby pissed about her car? I mean, you can't help it, but…" Elaine peers down at the baby, a wide grin on her features. She's ignoring the fact that leaping over the couch probably wasn't a great idea with her knee and everything. "He's a handsome little fella. You'll have to beat the women off with sticks." She peers back towards Quinn. "Oh my gosh. That's so exciting. The radio? You're gonna be famous."
At Sable's behest, Adel makes her way back over to Dee, still looking awkward at the baby. At least until she tilts her head and suddenly says, "He— kinda… puffy cheeked," she says, with a laugh in her voice. A laugh that continues for a moment as if she just had a joke in her head. But one only for herself, because… honestly there's a lot more going on than just the funny joke in her head about the baby with a baby face. Like the mention of a radio show, which causes her head to spin around in surprise. "Really?" There's a moment as if she's trying to figure out what radio show, before she looks back at Sable, and the warning. There needs to be an omen?
"Well… I arrived in the city just in time for this radio show. May not be an omen but… I know I belong here." She may have no confidence when it comes to babies, but she certainly sounds confident about that.
“I forget the name. Guy named Reuben sent me the email.” There’s a grunt and a mutter of a curse, that metal-and-plastic sound resuming for a moment. “Uh, hold on a second, this thing isn’t supposed t’ be carried like this, but…”
And after a moment emerges Quinn with a contraption in her arms, carried rather precariously by the beams that hold it together – Sable and Elaine might recognise it as the electronic drum kit she bought a few months back. “I can’t go on a show an’ talk about the band without music to show off, you know? I mean, like I said, I could do some of my own stuff, but that’s not Mad Muse. So! Adel, your trial by fire is as follows:” And this mandate comes without Sable approval, but she doubts the band leader will mind. “This weekend, including t’night, will be spent up in the studio floor, working on writing a new song or two, and at the very least rerecording the one we already demoed, now with an actual drummer!”
Father's a faggot so the baby could be too? Adel doesn't seem to smile at that, tilting her head a bit as if wondering something to herself. That, and the mention of writing songs seems to have caused an issue or two, but it's the drum set that has her vocal attention. "Oh wow, that— I've never had an electric drum set before. Hell, it was sometimes rare to have all the toms," she says, moving closer and looking at it with a surprised eyes. She wasn't expecting that. At all. "Thank you, I'll even do my best to write a song if I can write the drum part on this." And according to Ms Sable, she has to prove herself quite a bit.
"I'll do my best and prove to you that I do belong here and didn't just take the name Starkey cause I was raised by a Beatles fan."
There's a glance over at the mom, as if she's saying some very surprising things, but then Adel's eyes focus on the electric drum set again. A kid with new toys.
"I hope you don't have to eat your boot, though. That might just not sit right in your stomach.. digestion, you know." Elaine looks back towards Sable, then over at the drums. She heads (or rather limps) back towards the couch and flops down on it quietly.
Quinn plops down the drum kit, and then looks up at Adel with a grin. “I got it a few months ago so I could practice drumming, but, uh- I do about as well at is as I do at Rock Band. Which isn’t very good.” She shrugs a bit, pulling the drum sticks out of her pocket and offering them to Adel. “So I decided when we got a drummer, I’d hand it off t’ them. Since Sable has deemed you all unofficial for now, that’s not quite the case, but you’re welcome t’ borrow it.” A glance back at the kit, and Quinn wrinkles her nose. “I probably shouldn’t have put it t’gether, thinking about it. But whatever, we can take it up staisr later an’ you can get used t’ it.”
Looking back, she grins, a hand replaced on Adel’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat the song writing. I used a drum machine before, so if you’re having trouble helpin’ us with the music, you can listen t’ the beat we used for cues, if you want.” The hand pats down, Quinn moving over to take a chair. “How does all a’ that sound t’ you, Sable? We try an’ record at least a song or two this weekend, even if one’s a cover, an’ we see how Adel does based on that?” Crossing her legs, Quinn looks back over to Delilah with her own bit of surprise. “Well, if he’s as bad any of us, you might have room t’ worry, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Slurs are a little harder to get Sable to kick than stealing. This would become apparent if she ever hung around someone who wasn't totally whitebread. She means nothing by it, as such. She just doesn't know many other words, at least ones that don't sound all weird and white collar and collegiate - 'hispanic' - 'homosexual' - 'individual of Jewish faith'. She winces a little at the reprove, like a dog that's been yelled at. She knows she's done wrong because of the tone, though she's still, at an emotional level, a little hazy as to what was specifically wrong about it.
She'll learn, though. Eventually.
"Yer daddy had good taste," Sable says, pointing a finger at Adel, pistol style, "but y' can't jus' be a disciple. I'm lookin' f'r fellow prophets. Dig?" At what point this stops being bravado and turns into genuine delusion, it's sort of hard to say.
Sable resumes her original seat, next to Elaine and gives the girl a wide smile. "All comin' t'gether, ain't it? Had t' eventually." Whatever that means. Sable eases back in her seat, arms crossing, viewing the drum kit magisterially. "That sounds real fine, comrade Quinn. That's a real fuckin' test. Do that, 'n' if we take of, we'll know it was t' be.
Sable glances over in Walter's direction. "Aw hell," she states, "he'd be lucky t' have a fraction 'f th' love we all enjoy. 'n', universe willin', he'll grow up t' live in a world where there's love plenty 'n' t' spare, eh?"
"And he may turn out the exact opposite. The unprimal prude, the anti-slut," Adel finally pipes in about the baby, grinning a little at the tiny form that can't defend itself from any of the many sides that these "attacks" are coming from. "And it was… my mom, actually. I never really knew my dad. Mom used to joke that he was a glorified sperm donor, but I think she loved him, anyway." A world with love to spare… wouldn't that be nice, especially considering the day the tiny thing had been born on.
"I think that would make a good song topic, actually— the world that we want to see. Been done a billion times, but after all the stuff of the last few years, and the way things are lookin' a song about taking hold of fate and making it better for those you love seems fitting."
Walter seems far more awake now that he has been revived from his bassinet- wandering eyes, following the various shapes and colors across the room, fists curled up as Delilah holds him at her torso. The red ones are all mom, to him, and of course he knows what those things they all have on their chests are- but everything else is brand new. Elaine is next to Delilah, now, so aside from his gaze turned on Mum, it is the other redhead that he seems to be concentrating his mumbling at. The world is so interesting, innit.
"Whether he grows up into a prude or not, he's still my boy." Delilah inserts this moment of giggling sugary sweetness into an otherwise musical banter, putting her lips gently on the baby's forehead. Walter murmurs. Hey! You're in the way! The ceiling was awesome. Tiny eyebrows knit at her for just a second.
“See, I knew you guys would take t’ this so well!” Quinn grins wide, cracking fingers outwards in a theatrical motion, before springing back up from her seat. She walks back towards the back of the door and pops open a box, rising back up with a microphone in hand, twirling it between fingers as she looks back at the others, a wide grin on her face. “Tomorrow, folks, our path t’ stardom starts. Hopefully, you’ll be there with us the whole way, Adel. Either way, this weekend’s about t’ get real crazy like. I have t’ run some errands, but after that?”
She walks towards the couch, leaning over it between Sable and Elaine, microphone pointed at each of them, including Walter, Deliliah, and finally landing on Adel, whom Quinn offers a wide smile. “Get Magnes on the line. T’night, the rise of Mad Muse begins.”