AT LEAST WHEN SPRING COMES THEY ROAR BACK AGAIN
Oliver has set up in the city center just as the sun is beginning to set; the light has turned dusky-blue already and it drifts almost like powder through the streets, settling. Dust still catches in molten orbs; small planets drift and float, suspended by the limited rays of a sleepy sun. He has the guitar strung about his neck and, beneath him, a taunt deerskin drum. He is borrowing a girl's turquoise shawl and it is wrapped around his shoulders ornately, with tassels tangling in every colour imaginable. He waits for the lamplighter to come by; he waits for the lamps to be lit, and for Delumine’s nightlife to come alive. It is quiet when he begins to play; it is that sacred moment between gods as they meet in the sky, exchanging power. Caligo is creeping in and in the dimming light his eyes burn, amethyst fire. Oliver strums the guitar almost shyly, transitioning between folksy, almost downtrodden songs. A passerby flips a handful of coins into his open guitar case.
He gets lost happily in the music; it doesn’t matter to Oliver if someone is listening or not, simply that he plays off of Delumine’s contemplative atmosphere. He feeds off the aura of the transition; the scholars are going to their studies and their homes; and the youth of the Court are beginning to stop by the square. Always, always, Delumine feels half-asleep. Always, always, Delumine feels as if it is waiting to wake up. A couple begins to dance in front of him, briefly, and Oliver laughs aloud mid-song. They smile back and then are gone, on to something else.
Oliver loves the transition; he loves that he is a bystander creating a thousand beautiful moments for people he will never talk to. He loves the stares of those who stop to appreciate, briefly, the performance. Oliver doesn’t know how long he plays, from song to song, singing sometimes or simply playing at others. Eventually, however, something distracts him.
Then there is a a girl. A girl who deserves a song. She hangs back in a way Oliver perceives as shy, but understands isn’t. When he sees her his expression becomes mischievous with a roguish half-smile, all teeth. There is a small crowd now and the sky is dark in-between the sun disappearing and the stars rising.
Oliver’s eyes remain on the girl. The girl that opens up before him like a black hole; like an abyss. He loves adventure too much to resist the temptation of being consumed. He stops mid-song, exclaiming, “For the girl in the back…”. He immediately he transitions into something else, something different from all else that he has played; his voice rises above the small crowd to sing, bright as a bluejay:
“All the pretty girls like Samuel,
Oh, he really doesn’t share
Although it’s more than he can handle
Life is anything but fair, life is anything but fair
Oh oh, oh oh ooh
Oh oh, oh oh
Just as soon as they turn older
He’ll come and sweep them off their feet
It’s only making me feel smaller
All the hidden love beneath
So won’t you lay me, won’t you lay me down
Won’t you lay me, won’t you lay me down
Won’t you lay me, own’t you lay me down
You lay me, won’t you lay me down?”
His voice is smooth and dark; it is almost sultry if not for the poignant longing it possesses, a musician’s finest art. Oliver’s voice rises above the small crowd; it catches and croons; young couples have taken up on the cobblestones between himself and the girl, but Oliver’s eyes remain smouldering embers above them, unwavering.
“All alone, alone again
No one lends a helping hand
I have waited, I have waited
Takes it’s toll, my foolish pride
How long before I see the light
I have waited, I have waited
for you to lay me down
Sail on by, sail on by for now
They play naked in the water
You know it’s hard, heaven knows I’ve tried
But it just keeps getting harder.”
Oliver dips his head down, now, and the guitar; the turquoise shall slides from his shoulders that now stand out starkly in the lamplight, emphasised by their absence of colour. With the guitar he crosses the cobblestones, dipping and swirling between the dancers. He crosses the cobblestones and dark street until he stands across the girl, knowing already he is nothing more than an insect drawn into a spider’s web. Yet, Oliver is smiling handsomely, playfully.
“Oh, I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you
Yeah I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you
Oh I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you
For you to lay me, won’t you lay me down?”
He sees now, this close, her eyes are the same colour as his own. This only makes him smile wider. Her face is split as if with white lightening against the dark chestnut of the rest of her. Perhaps if Oliver were anyone else, he might have found something broken about it, something lost; he might have recognised the combined pieces of something and thought that is my soul, too.
But Oliver is not someone else. Oliver is only Oliver, with a storm-cloud body ready to thunder and lightening; with a heart ready to feel; with a voice ready to sing. Oliver's soul is only alight with music, and mischief, and the belief in this night being the best one of his life.
@Thana || "Speech" || Songs: All is Well by Austin Basham (inspiration) and All the Pretty Girls by KALEO (for Thana ;D) || Plz don't kill him Thana
