casual mondays with losers// OPEN TO THE PUBLIC

Last edited by panoramic on Mon Sep 30, 2013 3:35 pm; edited 1 time in total

HUDSON GILES • • •

"Here, let me serenade you with my sick ass plinks and plonks 'til you get just a good splitting headache to leave me be with my plinks and plonks."

I woke up this morning, all dazed about my surroundings. It was one of those mornings after waking up from such a long dream. Of course, I forgotten everything by then but all I knew was that I woke up like I was in a complete stranger's house.
"W-Wha... where the frick am I? H-huh?" And then I realized I was in the same hut that I had been incubated in for the last decade and perhaps even more.

"... I'm taking my ass for a walk."
When I take my ass for a walk, I'm also taking my brain out for a jog. Thoughts begin to race around each other in this uneven track, as if it's trying to find that finish line, like it'd ever get to the finish line.
As this process goes on in my head, I would literally tilt my head up and start walking out to the middle of where-else-would-I-go-in-this-goddamn-summer-camp and end up right in front of the amphitheater.
This was where you can be as loud as you can possibly be without disrupting public because you know they can't tell you crap about anything when you are in the amphitheater.
This is where the kid with the goddamn saxophone can play the same 3 damn notes and not get anywhere but still be allowed to play because he'd be in the amphitheater.
This is where Aphrodite's spawn gets escorted to when their thick skulls don't realize that the library is for quiet reading purposes AND QUIET READING PURPOSES ONLY because loud socializing is what the amphitheater is all about.
This is where a man can whip out his violin to play the most creakiest of noises and relieve all the goddamn thoughts in his head because HE BE AT THE AMPHITHEATER.
And that's where he'll be at.

Elijah Gray

Eli didn't know how bored he could get before he exploded, but he was more than willing to test it and see. It gave him something to do, afterall, when he had absolutely nothing else to even think about doing.
Weird, considering that everyone else seemed to be doing something. It was like he was the only one who didn't have some chore or job or hobby. (Not that he would even want a chore or job or hobby- well, maybe a hobby- but it would have been nice to have something). Everywhere he went, he spotted people who he'd known for years, months, weeks, and none of them were just sitting down relaxing. All of them were already doing something, or walking too do something as they told him (He almost wondered if there had been a mass memo saying "Don't hang around with Elijah", and that everyone was just avoiding him).
Basically he was not having the greatest of times alone, and he really didn't know what to do.

As it was, he was sitting with his feet up on the chair in front of him in the Mess Hall, munching absently on a roll of bread. It didn't have butter on it or anything- he couldn't justify wasting precious time on buttering bread- and he wouldn't let himself admit it was a tad bit too dry to chew properly. He had a glass of 7Up in front of him, which was getting dangerously close to the bottom of the glass, and his guitar leant against his table in as safe a position as he could get it.
He'd left the Hera Cabin without it, hoping that someone would be around that he could just hang out with, maybe challenge to a sword fight or whatever, but when he'd realized that there was absolutely no one with a spare few minutes around, he'd looped around and grabbed the guitar from the end of his bed, planning on going to the Amphitheatre...
Until he got distracted by the thought of food and an ice cold drink, of course. Still bored out of his mind, but hey, at least he would have food!

But... one more chomp and... yep. His roll was gone, and he really didn't want to eat more for the sake of eating. And... one more gulp... and look at that, his 7Up was gone too.
What a perfect moment during a perfect day.
Swinging his legs off the chair, he stood, picking the guitar up and holding it under his arm, before casually strolling out of the Mess Hall as if he wasn't bored out of his mind.

Maybe he would have kept walking... maybe he would have just gone back to the Cabin and rearranged his socks or something, just too pass the time... had he not heard the unmistakeable sound of a Violin as he walked past the Amphitheatre. Curiosity drew him to the door...
A satyr, playing the Violin in the Amphitheatre. If he'd thought he'd seen it all, Elijah was sorely mistaken.
'Hey!' he called, waving his free hand towards the Satyr, 'You play pretty well, if you don't mind me saying.'

:/:/OOC: Snort I totally winged it

It's just a spark but it's enough to keep me going and when it's dark out no one's around it keeps glowing and the salt in my wounds isn't burning anymore than it used to it's not that I don't feel the pain it's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore and the blood in these veins isn't pumping any less than it ever has and that's the hope I have the only thing I know that's keeping me alive

HUDSON GILES • • •

"BaBopByeYa, where are you my darling?
BaBopByeYa, can you hear me calling?"

One... Two... One, and a two and a three. From the specific measures and the melody of the song, I had (kind of) memorized this song perfectly from the tips of my neurons.
I can finally feel my thoughts slowing down from a sprint, and now to a blissful walk as I only concentrated on the pitch, the rhythm, the sounds of what this Janelle Monae song was all about.

Powerful, melancholic, and revolutionary the atmosphere was as I closed my eyes and let my instrument do the magic.
From the music, I had teleported into a dreamy concoction created by the music itself. I don't mean to brag, but the way I played that damn song would have turned a hundred mofos into frogs. Screw Harry Potter, screw Merlin, and screw that nasty ass who'd cast Sleeping Beauty under a century of sleep. It was that goddamn magical, alright?
Wow, I can actually rock this song, was the remark that had sparked from my brain as I kept going and going. I gave myself a smirk, and a big pat on the back for actually playing a song right for once.
Damn I was good, damn I was--

"Hey!" Began bouncing off from the walls, to the floors and was muffed by my big ass afro. Even so, I still got up from my phased out moment and stop playing, looking over at the doofus who was calling out to me from the entrance.
He was waving his hand, grasping my attention. Yeah, you sure got my attention you asshole, and you also broke my flow.
I held back the obnoxious groaning noise I was about to emit from my mouth and turned over to him. This better be damn important.

"You play pretty well, if you don't mind me saying."
I ALREADY KNEW THAT, BOY.
"Of course I damn mind, you know how much I work hard to suck so bad?" I gave him an unimpressed look, plinking and plonking the strings of my violin.
I guess I forgot to point out that a dude's voice like his can vibrate around the damn amphitheater all he wants, because it's the goddamn amphitheater.

Posts : 571 Join date : 2012-06-12 Age : 35 Location : USA

The soft clops of satyr hooves could be heard, gentle, graceful. Trying not to be heard when you had built in tap shoes was hard on anybody, lets add stone floors to the equation. But Amaranta had decided she was going to be quiet when she walked on stone, and so she spent days practicing. And she was finally getting it almost right. But today, like usual, someone was playing something or another in the amphitheater, and she was forced to listen, because it was one of the few long strips of stone that she figured people wouldn't stare at her too awkwardly while she practiced. But then she saw, and heard, a familiar voice and face. But that hair?

Cupping her hands to her lips, painted red and shiny, she shouted.

"I leave camp for a summer and come back and you have some dead thing on your head! Might want to get that checked!"

He already looked cranky that someone had interrupted his flow, but that's okay. The satyress had finally taken it upon herself to leave camp and actually try and be a proper satyr. Not the most successful, but she did her best, and her hero came back mostly intact. Ama's style has matured in her time out as well. No more pink frills and piggy-tails for her it seemed.

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