"Doc" Emmett L. Brown (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
4thdimensional) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-04-24 01:08 am
4thdimensional) wrote in interstellar55552016-04-24 01:08 am
Entry tags:
come sail away
Who: Doc Brown Will Brandt and you! Especially if you play music.
What: Failures of scientific studies about music and the strange phenomena surrounding it.
When: Late April, various afternoons
Where: Around Vista City
Warnings: Weird old man singing. Be warned.
aural experiment #1: morning
[Doc's finally earned enough money to cobble together a few small devices. The one he sets on the outdoor café table at breakfast looks oddly like a classic record player. It plays a soft classical tune, all while the man sitting behind it appears to be absorbed in his newspaper.
The inside of said newspaper is actually covered in scribbled notes. Nothing interesting is happening yet, but he remains optimistic.
...at least, until the record makes a horrible screeching noise for some reason. Doc slams down the newspaper to hurriedly turn it off.]
I'm not sure the classics agree with me anymore. My apologies.
aural experiment #2: afternoon
[Undeterred by his earlier failure with the record-er, Doc wanders the streets in the afternoon with some strange-looking headphones attached to his ears. They cover the back half of the ear and curve outward, and he hides it, but there's a thin microphone-like device in his hands too.
Should anyone look too closely at him, he immediately picks up the 'mic' and begins to sing in a weathered and untrained voice, waving an arm like he's conducting an invisible orchestra:]
I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea...
[Those in the vicinity may want to leave it.]
aural experiment #3: night
[Doc saves his best attempt for last: a last-ditch device more compact than the previous ones. There's a lot of musical activity at night---sound pouring out of each club, each concert hall, the headquarters...he strolls around each of these places, humming quietly to himself.
He occasionally scribbles in a notebook, but his findings will have to be analyzed later. That odd thing in the air that he can't name...it bothers him deeply, and the mystery continues to taunt him. Solve this and they can free the others. Or can they?
As he strolls back to his too-small apartment, he finds himself singing once more, though this time in a more subdued manner.]
Come sail away with me, come sail away...
What: Failures of scientific studies about music and the strange phenomena surrounding it.
When: Late April, various afternoons
Where: Around Vista City
Warnings: Weird old man singing. Be warned.
aural experiment #1: morning
[Doc's finally earned enough money to cobble together a few small devices. The one he sets on the outdoor café table at breakfast looks oddly like a classic record player. It plays a soft classical tune, all while the man sitting behind it appears to be absorbed in his newspaper.
The inside of said newspaper is actually covered in scribbled notes. Nothing interesting is happening yet, but he remains optimistic.
...at least, until the record makes a horrible screeching noise for some reason. Doc slams down the newspaper to hurriedly turn it off.]
I'm not sure the classics agree with me anymore. My apologies.
aural experiment #2: afternoon
[Undeterred by his earlier failure with the record-er, Doc wanders the streets in the afternoon with some strange-looking headphones attached to his ears. They cover the back half of the ear and curve outward, and he hides it, but there's a thin microphone-like device in his hands too.
Should anyone look too closely at him, he immediately picks up the 'mic' and begins to sing in a weathered and untrained voice, waving an arm like he's conducting an invisible orchestra:]
I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea...
[Those in the vicinity may want to leave it.]
aural experiment #3: night
[Doc saves his best attempt for last: a last-ditch device more compact than the previous ones. There's a lot of musical activity at night---sound pouring out of each club, each concert hall, the headquarters...he strolls around each of these places, humming quietly to himself.
He occasionally scribbles in a notebook, but his findings will have to be analyzed later. That odd thing in the air that he can't name...it bothers him deeply, and the mystery continues to taunt him. Solve this and they can free the others. Or can they?
As he strolls back to his too-small apartment, he finds himself singing once more, though this time in a more subdued manner.]
Come sail away with me, come sail away...
no subject
Doc remains silent in the face of Marty's apologies at first, but his reaction's written all across his face. His warm, relieved smile never wavers, in fact it only grows by the second as the realization that they're friends again continues to sink in, and when Marty seems to be done, he leans over, tightly grasps his shoulders, and gives them a reassuring squeeze.
There's so much he wants to say, but they shouldn't talk out in the open. Doc starts guiding Marty to Beekman's Garage---it's just off to the roadside, a minute's walk at most, and deserted at this hour. When he's confident that they're not being watched, he talks, eyes fixed on Marty all the while.]
Marty, I chose to do this with the full awareness that your memories of our friendship were suppressed. With your whirlwind social life, I was even more out of place in your world here than in Hill Valley. It was only to be expected...
[After a moment, his expression turns apologetic too.]
...and for my part, I'm sorry that my repeated attempts to awaken those memories caused you so much pain. I asked my spectral ally for his assistance with that, I hope he helped you.
[Doc wrinkles his nose. He really doesn't like to say that he believes in ghosts, but they've pulled off a miracle here.]
no subject
His thoughts about this grow worse as he's led to Doc's little garage. When they finally step inside, he looks to his friend with tired eyes. And he waits for what he has to say.
But...it's all okay. Doc did all of this, knowing that Marty would probably be an asshole, and was too busy going around signing autographs, or taking selfies with people, whatever. But he actually wanted to bring Marty back from all of this. It was touching, to be frank. Did he even have friends like this anymore, outside Defying Atmosphere?
And then Doc apologizes. He remembered the sunglasses, and how things went blank after that. Why in the world he had so much troubles with remembering his friend, Marty's not sure. But it's odd, that's to say the least. ] Don't worry 'bout it, Doc. It's all in the past now, right? [ As much as he wants to beat himself up, Marty refuses. Doc came here for a reason, and him sulking and feeling bad for calling names that he's probably heard before won't help. ]
What's this spectral stuff you're talkin' about though?
no subject
[Doc can't entirely relax, but the relief is written all over his face. He's almost pathetically glad to have Marty back, even if they don't have long under the circumstances. He takes a seat next to his friend, just like old times.]
The other night, an incorporeal blue being appeared before me. I didn't gather much other than his name---Octave. He offered some sort of spiritual gift, and so I asked if he might begin to heal your pain. I'm assuming he did?
no subject
Octave rings a bell, but he can put a face to the name this time. ] Octave. Octave found you? [ Marty leans on the table, letting his face rest in his hands. ] Y-Yeah, I think so. Else I wouldn't remember you, right? [ Or maybe he'd remember, but it would be a painful process. ]
Same thing happened to me! Only it was Arpegius. I helped him out before my wrist got busted!
[ and yeah. That wasn't something he should have shared. ]
no subject
[He's about to ask Marty a whole slew of questions about them when that last statement seizes his attention. Doc immediately reaches for Marty's hand, searching for any scars or lumps on the wrist.]
When did that happen?
[His tone is a sort of cold fury. He's all too painfully reminded of the bad future Marty had so narrowly avoided---even without the fame, killing his ability to play would crush his spirit.]
no subject
[ Ooh, he regrets saying that. He jumps when Doc takes his hand, going over a full inspection of his wrist. Thanks to the medical medicine (and behaving himself), there's not a scar or a lump to be seen. Everything's internal. Literally.
The tone of Doc's voice makes Marty feel like he was doused in cold water. He quickly starts to think, trying to decide whether he should lie or not. If he lies, Doc will be worried. And maybe upset, if he were to learn the truth. But if Marty doesn't lie, Doc will get mad. He'll try and put himself in danger, maybe.
He can't put a finger on how, but their friendship dives deep.
The next thing that comes to his mind is that if he tells Doc, especially if he's not related with his band or Virgo at all, there will be trouble. Marty's barely avoided the worst of things; a few days torture and a snapped wrist were just warnings. What would happen if he spewed his guts now? ]
I, I fell! I landed on my hand wrong. [ Marty offers a shaky smile. ] It was an accident! I'm fine now though, see? [ To prove it, Marty rotates his wrist in circles. ] See?
no subject
Forgive me, Marty. I've had a while to worry about you every night...but it won't be for much longer, I promise. We'll pull you and your new friends out of there, we have a way.
But what were the ghosts asking for help with?
no subject
When Doc speaks next, Marty's...not sure how to feel about it. ] Pull, Doc?
[ Maybe he didn't mean leave, like Rarity had wanted them to. Maybe Doc meant something else. He had to, right? ]
...I, I don't remember. [ The change of subject (again) was welcome, but shit. Marty could hardly even recall what had happened. ] One ghost got caught or somethin', so a group of us went to go help them. I mean, we got busted in the end, but-
[ That's not something Doc needs to know about. ] It happens.
no subject
[Doc hopes not, at least. He breathes softly.]
We have a method for undoing the damage, and it appears to have worked thus far.