terrance ward || trauma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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interstellar55552015-12-04 04:14 am
traumatizing) wrote in interstellar55552015-12-04 04:14 am
Entry tags:
♪ see the animal in its cage that you built
Who: Terry and YOU
What: Angsty songs at an open mic. Also accidental use of someone's fame reward.
When: Dec 2nd
Where: A surprisingly nice dive bar. Let's call it the Black Rose
Warnings: NONE YET but I know what you kids are like so will update as needed.
Terry's never been a huge Winter Festival guy, not for any particular reason, just as long as he can remember he's never been particularly festive. That's kind of amped up since he left home though, when people talk about their families and whatnot-- he doesn't talk about it, and he knows other people have it worse, but it's still hard to avoid that particular thread of melancholy when the holiday season rolls around.
That, and he's been thinking about his family a lot more than normal recently. Dreaming up a lot of things that don't make sense, but whatever's going on, it certainly salts the wounds a little.
Music, he's found, soothes the angsty beast. Open mic nights have done right by Terry in the past, in a myriad of ways, but right now he just needs to get the music out there. It's one thing messing around in his room, but it's another baring yourself to a crowd. Not that it seems to show on him, he's well practised at hiding this particular anxiety by now. He walks up to the "stage" (it's really just a clearing at the back of the room) when his name is called, plenty nondescript in a black sweater and jeans with most of his hair shoved into a beanie, and sits down on the chair that's been left for performers. Sets his whiskey down next to the chairleg and starts tuning his guitar as he addresses the audience.
"Hey, uh... So I know we don't really get snow out here, but. I kind of need it for the angsty image-- 'sun-kissed rooftops' isn't really a phrase that makes people sad, I dunno." There's a couple of chuckles from people watching, but Terry doesn't give it long to settle before he starts his first song, and it carries a feeling of... Not really sadness, more something empty. Like something's lost and missing, entirely intangible. A few weepy eyes from what he assumes are more sensitive people. (He certainly doesn't feel like the song is enough to get that reaction, but he'll take it.) He murmurs a soft thanks and that's all anyone'll get before he starts the second song. This one is angrier, but it's internalised and directionless. And he can feel that restlessness in the audience when he stands with a quiet, "thanks for your time," and departs the scene hastily.
He spends the rest of the night there, listening to other acts and trying to avoid anyone who looks like they might want to talk to him or something, but he's not exactly hard to corner. Especially if you catch him by the bar.
What: Angsty songs at an open mic. Also accidental use of someone's fame reward.
When: Dec 2nd
Where: A surprisingly nice dive bar. Let's call it the Black Rose
Warnings: NONE YET but I know what you kids are like so will update as needed.
Terry's never been a huge Winter Festival guy, not for any particular reason, just as long as he can remember he's never been particularly festive. That's kind of amped up since he left home though, when people talk about their families and whatnot-- he doesn't talk about it, and he knows other people have it worse, but it's still hard to avoid that particular thread of melancholy when the holiday season rolls around.
That, and he's been thinking about his family a lot more than normal recently. Dreaming up a lot of things that don't make sense, but whatever's going on, it certainly salts the wounds a little.
Music, he's found, soothes the angsty beast. Open mic nights have done right by Terry in the past, in a myriad of ways, but right now he just needs to get the music out there. It's one thing messing around in his room, but it's another baring yourself to a crowd. Not that it seems to show on him, he's well practised at hiding this particular anxiety by now. He walks up to the "stage" (it's really just a clearing at the back of the room) when his name is called, plenty nondescript in a black sweater and jeans with most of his hair shoved into a beanie, and sits down on the chair that's been left for performers. Sets his whiskey down next to the chairleg and starts tuning his guitar as he addresses the audience.
"Hey, uh... So I know we don't really get snow out here, but. I kind of need it for the angsty image-- 'sun-kissed rooftops' isn't really a phrase that makes people sad, I dunno." There's a couple of chuckles from people watching, but Terry doesn't give it long to settle before he starts his first song, and it carries a feeling of... Not really sadness, more something empty. Like something's lost and missing, entirely intangible. A few weepy eyes from what he assumes are more sensitive people. (He certainly doesn't feel like the song is enough to get that reaction, but he'll take it.) He murmurs a soft thanks and that's all anyone'll get before he starts the second song. This one is angrier, but it's internalised and directionless. And he can feel that restlessness in the audience when he stands with a quiet, "thanks for your time," and departs the scene hastily.
He spends the rest of the night there, listening to other acts and trying to avoid anyone who looks like they might want to talk to him or something, but he's not exactly hard to corner. Especially if you catch him by the bar.
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"You're even more impressive than usual, these days." She may or may not have been one of the more emotional audience members during the first song.
With a little gesture she calls over the bartender to get herself something, and Terry another. "Wanted to come out and shine on your own, huh?"
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He smirks a little at her as he finishes off his current drink, "gotta kickstart that solo career somehow."
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She's ... Mostly kidding. Kind of. She's kidding because in the end he is too, right? Right. Absolutely. Their drinks come and she takes a sip of hers, and nudges Terry's over to his. "Seriously though, you didn't even invite us."
Nariko isn't taking it personally but it does seem a little odd. He hasn't seemed particularly big on the holidays so far so maybe it's just, but if there's more to it then she's here to listen to him - or pry it out.
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Her nail taps at the rim of her glass. "So technically by validating my worry and talking when you're going through stuff you're actually helping to get rid of it! Relationships are funny, right?"
Did that even make sense? Probably not.
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What actually helps, what makes it easier to sleep at night, is knowing that if Terry really had a problem then he'd tell her and they could try to work it out together. This whole 'I'm so cool and mysterious and brooding, I can handle it myself' shit didn't really work.
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But she's right, and Terry knows she is because he'd only worry more if Nariko stopped talking to him. He looks down at his drink, frowning pretty intently at it as he says, "I've just... I've been thinking about my family a lot lately," softly, almost too quiet to be audible. He looks a little like it was legitimately painful for him to admit it out loud too.
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"Oh." She has to force herself to remain still, to keep from wrapping her arms around him. "You miss them?" She lifts her eyes and looks around. "... It's difficult to not think about considering the time of year."
And yet Nariko hadn't thought of her parents even once. But then she hated her mother so that wasn't any real surprise.
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"Writing just... It helps get it all out of my head, you know?"