New Places, New Faces (Ash/Edge)

[NightshadeVII]

The sun shone in an almost clear sky, with the odd cloud here and there gliding slowly over it every once in a while. Birds were singing and jumping around on the ground looking for anything edible or anything shiny. They twittered, chatted with one another, and their little chirps slowly became a part of the soft bustle of the park they were in. The trees and bushes, strewn about so casually, were covered in budding, green leaves, almost ready to unfold and return the trees to their former glory. All in all the weather was great, and carried with it promises of even better days. Because of this, a fair amount of people had decided to visit the park today, some bringing picnic baskets, others brought footballs or other kinds of games that were made for this kind of weather. Both young and old had sought out this park. Families could be be heard chatting and laughing, friends were engrossed in conversation with one another, cups of to-go coffee in their hands. Grandparents smiled as their grandchildren played on the small, rundown playground, squealing in delight. A few had come alone, but seemed no less content because of it, sitting on the grass or on benches with books, or lying back and closing their eyes. It was idyllic in many ways, that so many different people managed to coexist.
 
A musician had located himself by a bench touched by the sun, a battered guitar case, fixed with duct tape and various stickers open before his feet. By all means, the musician wasn’t the kind of person one might expect to see playing somewhere as peaceful as the park. He looked more like someone who belonged in the middle of the city or in some underground grunge club, with his worn and torn denim vest, covered in patches, his ripped jeans and untied boots. His height, along with the multiple piercings in his ears and lips, made some of parents present in the park look at him twice. And even so, the expression he wore contradicted everything about him. A soft smile rested on his lips, and kind eyes looked calmly down at the guitar in his hands. Not only was his presence contradictory, so was his person.
 
Edge had always enjoyed playing music in the parks of Wathais and tried to make a habit of doing so often. He enjoyed the freedom of showing up with only his battered guitar case, settling down, and beginning to play. If people wanted to listen, they could listen. He wasn’t doing this to attract an audience or earn the applause of the people in the park, all he hoped was that maybe, he’d make someone smile.
Not much time had passed since he had set down and began to tune his guitar, effortlessly making small adjustments, knowing how the instrument meant to sound. He barely had to think about what he was doing, remembering from the many times before. When finally, the guitar sounded exactly like it should, he stopped for a moment, wondering what he even should play. This was never something he planned beforehand, a part of it all was to improvise.
Finally, he settled on something and his fingers began to dance over the strings, effortlessly easing into a clean and pleasant rhythm. It wasn’t a song where he intended to sing, instead preferring to let the music speak for itself.
At some point, a mother and her children stopped to listen. The two kids watched with awe, while, to begin with, their mother seemed almost anxious to stand still. However, slowly, she relaxed, the tension of her shoulders easing. Edge looked up, his song never slowing, and smiled at them heartfelt, as he mouthed a thank you. And it became even better when he saw the smile returned, by both the children and their mother.
This was why he had come here.

[kilnarak]

The park wasn't that far from the clinic - it would have been an easy flight, if he had been allowed to fly there. Of course, he wasn't allowed to fly there as that would surely frighten the humans, but it wasn't so far that he couldn't walk. Ash had only been there a few times, usually with Doctor Jedi, but today he had decided to try coming alone. However much he wanted to, he couldn't always rely on Jedi - he had to get used to doing things like this on his own.

The park wasn't so bad, it wasn't as noisy as the city, the greenery and tree-smells were nice, and there was also the shallow pond to one end - not deep enough to swim, no, and mucky-bottomed to boot, but birds would usually land on the water and sometimes he spied large, orange and white fish-shapes moving under the greenish surface of the water.

The most important aspect of the park, though, was that humans came there to be at ease. It made a nice place to get used to interacting with them, or at least to get used to being in the same general vicinity as them and to watch and learn how their social customs worked. That would be important to learn, if he intended to stay here, as they seemed to make up the vast majority of the population her.

Shoes seemed to be one of those social customs that he'd need to get used to - all of the humans in the park wore them except for a few of the children who ran about on the grass. Ash had tried at least, he had worn a pair of brown shoes that Jedi had given him for a while, but had since slipped off them off and now joined the barefoot children in padding on the grass. It was more comfortable, and easier to walk, feeling the earth beneath his feet. Other than the footwear (that was now carried rather than worn) he was dressed fairly normally - a black shirt and olive-colored pants, with a light blue jacket made of a rough faded-looking material that Jedi had called 'denim'.

One of the children running on the grass tripped and fell, crying near immediately. Ash had to stop himself, biting back on the instinct to go right the and comfort the child - that was not a human social custom, and would only attract the ire of the child's parents. He still watched until one of the adult humans came over to help the child up, then breathing out a relieved sigh he turned to continue his own wandering through the park.

The sound of... some sort of music? drifted to him over the other park-sounds - humans talking, children laughing, the soft rustle-hiss of leaves in the breeze, the bright chirping of birds - and he let curiosity lead him to the source of the noise.

Ash slowed when he saw the human playing his stringed instrument, another parent with children standing nearby, watching. He watched them from a distance for a long few moments, trying to gauge the situation and whether it was appropriate to approach. He didn't want to be seen as a threat by the parent with children, but as a few more individuals wandered up to listen and drop paper and coins in the musician's box, Ash decided to risk moving a little closer to listen better.

[NightshadeVII]

The punk’s music flowed easily now, the tones light and cheerful, full of life an energy that he could never even begin to dream of. Music had always been an escape for him, an outlet, where he could express himself, expressing the feelings that went beyond words. And it also allowed him to forget about his worries for a second, getting lost in the tunes. When he played like this, he wasn’t just a chronically ill, well-adjusted alien, to put it bluntly, he was a performer, someone with a craft, someone who might be able to make someone’s day a little better.
He enjoyed being that, getting lost in the music, it was obvious. His entire body moved, subtly but surely to the rhythm of the song he was playing, sometimes his foot was tapping against the ground, following the rhythm, other times his head bobbed slowly, or he mouthed the words. At times he closed his eyes and allowed his hands to do what they wanted, creating something entirely new. He wanted to sing, deep down, but knew he’d just get even more into it if he decided to do that. So for now, he stayed quiet, looking up at his audience to smile.

That’s when he noticed someone new had joined, a young man, standing further away than the mother and her children, almost as if he was unsure of whether or not he was allowed there. He looked a little tense, unused to this new environment. It didn’t take long for the Darai to notice the shoes that the young man held, and he chuckled inwardly. That was the way to do it. The demin-clad man knew what was good. Without even thinking, Edge tried to gain eyecontact with the others, sending him a warm smile, to let him know that he was welcome here.

When he began the next song, he was singing before he knew it. It didn’t have the same energy as when he performed on stage, it wasn’t charged by raw, exposed emotion, wasn’t spurred by the sounds of the crowd, it didn’t tear at his throat in a way that would make him hoarse the day after, instead, his voice was gentle, soft, dancing with the sound of the guitar.
Opening his eyes, he saw that the children had begun half-dancing to the rhythm in the way that only children could, and his eyes filled with warmth as he smiled at them.

He continued to play with ease, nearing the end of the song, almost forgetting the feeling of his fingers gliding over the guitar strings.
Until a string broke, with a sudden, almost comical sound, that would have been funny in any other situation than this. Edge jumped, strangling a foreign curse as it build up on his throat, there where children here after all. Instead he looked up at the mother, her children, and the barefoot male, sending them a sheepish, apologetic smile.
“Ah, sorry about that. This won’t take long to fix.”

With that said, he fished a spare string out of his guitar case and sat down on the ground, before getting to work. It was obvious that he had done something like this many times before, like when he had played, his fingers moved with ease, yet his purple eyes were fixated on the string, following it as it twirled around his fingers.
Then he felt small fingers tap his shoulder and looked up. It was one of the kids that had watched him perform, a young girl with bright green-grey eyes and brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. There was a shy, coy smile on her lips, and without a word, she held out her hands, as if offering the punk something. Curious, he opened his palm, only to see a few shiny coins and dollar bills fall into his hand.

“You’re a really cool rockstar.”, she said then, so honestly. And Edge couldn’t help but smile then, a broad, genuine smile, that completely contradicted his pierced, tattered appearance.
“Thank you so much! That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.”, he said, “it’s a pleasure to play for you.”
The girl smiled then and ran back to her mother, already chatting excitedly. The small family however, quickly began walking away, but the girl kept looking over her shoulder. When she did that, Edge waved, wishing them all a good day.

Then his eyes landed on the barefoot young man, still standing a little bit away, looking almost nervous. Edge chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck
“Sorry for the interruption by the way.”, he said, directing the words at the young man.

[kilnarak]

When the musician smiled at him, Ash offered an uncertain smile in return. Soon after, when the man began to sing, Ash picked his way a bit closer to better listen. He found a clear patch of grass and sat himself down, his head tilted up and cocked slightly to the side as he listened. It was a bit difficult for him to understand the lyrics - the difference between spoken word and song being what it was - but he could pick them out now and then. The melody and the man's voice were lovely enough, even if he didn't entirely understand. He smiled, listening and watching as the man swayed back and forth, the children nearby mimicking his movements.

And then one of the strings on the man's intstrument snapped, the sound jarring after the gentle melodic sounds that had come before. Ash flinched, startling slightly - the kids jumped a little too, then laughed at the noise that the string had made in snapping.

While the man fished about in his things to repair the instrument, Ash reluctantly pushed to his feet again. He had enjoyed the music, but if that was the end of it... well it would be a bit strange to just sit and watch a stranger, wouldn't it? He hesitated a few moments still, then began to turn to find somewhere else to wander - and then he heard the man's voice raised in apology, and glanced back to see that he was being addressed.

Ash hesitated a moment, his expression a bit deer-in-the-headlights, then it smoothed and he offered an uncertain smile. "You... don't need to apologize for anything. Aa, the music was beautiful. I'm honored to have been able to listen to it." He swayed slightly, weight shifting from one foot to the other - not sure if he should stay since he had been addressed, or if he should go since the music was presumably over. A clawful of moments passed, and then he tentatively moved nearer again. "Will you play more? Or aa, or are you finished now?"

[NightshadeVII]

Despite the situation, it was almost therapeutic to work on fixing his guitar, years and years of practice meant that he could practically do it in his sleep. But it was a nice simple task, at least when compared to signing and playing at the same time, a short little break for his brain, where he could focus on his breathing and the way his hands worked, not having to be focusing on a bunch of things all at once.

He didn’t even notice that his last remaining audience got up to leave, looking around for somewhere to go, until the young man addressed him. With a little noise of surprise, a pleasant noise, the Darai looked up, purple eyes attentive and bright.
“Oh yeah, I’ll play some more”, the Darai said with a grin, looking up from his work, “I juuust need to get this fixed, it won’t take long.”

It took a little while for the other’s compliment to sink in, being a humble, gentle soul who rarely took things for granted, he needed to fully take in the others words. It didn’t take long, however, and then Edge practically lit up, his smile broadened slightly, becoming a mix of flustered and delighted.
“And thank you, I’m glad you liked the music.”, Edge smiled then, genuinely, “It’s always a gamble, playing in public like this, some people are rather... vocal, about their dislike of the music being played. Luckily it’s a minority.”

Once the new string was attached, he began strumming the instrument again, testing the sound. Just as he thought, the new string needed to be properly tuned again. And so he set to work again, tuning the string slightly and testing it, repeating the process until he got the sound he wanted.

“What’s your name, by the way?”, the punk then asked, looking up again, deft hands working like they had a life of their own. There was nothing malicious about him, the request itself had even been a little dorky, genuinely curious about the young man that had decided to stay and listen.