Cutting the Silence

by **Pluckett** on September 8th, 2019, 12:07 am

Pluckett listened intently at Madeira's words about Alvadas. She wasn't interested in leaving Lhavit any time soon, but she'd certainly remember.
A spiritist. The only thing Pluckett knew of the branch of magic was that it had to do with ghosts. More questions brewed inside her, but Aleah's stare let her know that it wasn't time for talk.
Madeira's magic comment brought a warm feeling to Pluckett's very being. She soaked the compliment up like a sponge, smiling broadly. When she came in for a kiss, Pluckett accepted it. Just a light peck. It wasn't world-breaking, but something about the way Madeira held herself and had such a unique and mysterious... and seductive? air brought a bolt to Pluckett's gut. As quickly as it began, it was over, and Madeira's parting message gave Pluckett the jolt to reality needed to finish her performance.
"Thank you, Madeira," Pluckett replied as she stood from her seat. She didn't know how to put that same energy into a name - whatever energy it was that her name being spoken by this woman held, "I hope to see you again."
She gave a small wave before turning and walking back to her instrument. It did manage to cool off a little in her abandonment - not a great thing for tuning, but it would probably not be noticed. She took her seat, worked out what song she would play, and began.
It was a fluttery song. A simple, summery melody that started in a sweet major key. The notes were short and vibrant, the sound was clear.
Pluckett realized near the end of the introduction that she had forgotten how the next part went, exactly, in her distraction. She was going to have to wing it. She repeated a very neutral part of the introduction, first as usual, then lifted it up an octave. She then added quarter notes here and there, and slipped in a few changes of notes - most were fine, but one or two were a miss that would have stopped the flow of the music if not played quickly and passed over. Hopefully to a casual listener it would sound intentional.
She remembered the next part. To herself, she called it wave-like. It flowed a bit slower than the first and improvised middle parts, before hiking up an octave and then travelling down the scale into the ending. The ending brought back the beginning, as many songs tend to do, and before she knew it the final song was wrapping up.
The applause came - familiar at this point. Pluckett openly watched Madeira's reaction this time. She felt in her gut that Madeira was going to be an important figure in her life during her time in Lhavit.
With the applause dying down, she stood, she bowed, and she gently put her instrument away. There was a lot to rest on tonight.

by **Madeira Dusk** on September 9th, 2019, 10:42 pm

Date, Season, Year

"You two seemed to be getting along. You forget about me or what?"

Almost the tick Pluckett slipped away the man she was speaking with earlier that night filled her vacated barstool with his much less perky ass. His chin was high and his expression sour. Madeira's lingering smile died on her lips.

"I was speaking to somebody else."

"Sure, if that's what you call it. You seemed awful interested in my opinion a chime ago. Here, I'll buy you a drink and let's continue, shall we?"

Up on stage Pluckett had tuned her instrument and was starting to play. Or at least Madeira supposed she was. The man was both blocking her view of the stage and seemed intent on speaking over the gentle cords.

"Your insight has left me thoroughly sated, but thank you."

"Then let's talk about something else", he plowed on, oblivious to the souring air between them. "What do you do? Cause let my tell you this Penrose malarkey has been great for my-"

"Stop", she quieted him immediately with one finger held level with nose. He had to go cross-eyed to keep it in sight. "Take the hint. I have no intention of holding another insipid conversation with you. I've found something far more interesting"

Finally the man seemed to cotton on to the annoyance written all over her face. His thoughts on the murder were worthless and his opinion couldn't see past the ocean of ego in the way. Once she had sussed these facts out she had no more use for his company. She held his eye contact unflinchingly, willing him to realize the unending depths of her indifference.

There was a beat of silence between them, punctuated by fluttery, bright sound of Pluckett's playing.

"Women", he finally snarled, making the fact sound like an insult.

"Women", she agreed, though she had no idea what that had to do with anything. "Now if you don't mind, you're blocking the view."

She needn't had bothered. Before the words were fully out of her mouth he had stomped off the stool, guttering the little blue candle between them. With a concerted effort to look completely through her as if she no longer existed, he made his theatrical departure to find someone who'd appreciate him.

Finally Madeira was left alone to listen. She toyed with her whiskey glass, her chin in her palm, watching the small, dark woman onstage. She might not have found the rumours she wanted, but the night was not a waste. Not by a long shot. She ran her thumb over her bottom lip, savouring the victory. Maybe Belladonna was wrong. She wasn't a bad flirt. A messy flirt, maybe. Obtuse. But not bad. At least not with this.

She pulled once more as her depleting dijed, looking for one last push. Now that she had this busker firmly in her sights, she wanted her. She wanted her the same way she wanted a lot of things in life, with a selfishness that ran bone deep. She would see her again, she would make sure of it.

When the song ended Madeira made sure she was the loudest in the room. When Pluckett's eyes sought her out in the crowed Madeira held the contact and smiled, wolf whistling between her teeth. Her dijed moved in lazy currents in the pits of her eyes, holding tight to that contact. With an effort that left an ach in her soul she twisted it, pressing a flash, a sudden hallucination disguised as a memory, into her mind. It was simple, nothing too distracting, just the memory of the kiss a chime ago. She wanted to make sure her small victory lingered in both their minds tonight.

As the clapping died down and Pluckett began to put away her instrument Madeira turned away, dabbing at the drop of blood that was collecting in the corner of her eye as she stood to leave.