fandomtownies | Entries tagged with roland chapman

All of Roland's worldly goods still managed to fit into a large duffel bag and a guitar case, so it didn't take long for him to be ready to go. He set out for one last busk through town, playing a little travel music as he went.

Fandom had been pretty decent to him, all told, but it was time to, well. Move it right along.

[ooc: and here's Roland's last on-island post before going expat! Open.]

nuclear_snide

So, everyone had hopefully been notified, and now they were gathered and gathering, and Bob waited as long as he could for them to arrive before he stepped up to the front of the room and set off a burst of golden light to get their attention.

"Thank you all for coming." He projected his voice around the room. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a lot of bad magic out there," he said dryly. If anyone hadn't noticed, he worried about them. "We've been looking into it, and we've tracked down the source, and if you listened to radio yesterday you know it's Needful Things and Leland Gaunt. He's been selling cursed items, often for the price of special or magical items in turn. What's new is that we've found out how to break his hold."

He paused very briefly ~~for dramatic effect~~ to let that sink in. "In order for someone who's got a cursed item to be free of the curse, they have to destroy the item." He stared around the room seriously. "THEY have to destroy it," he reiterated. "If anyone else breaks it for them, they will wither and die. If they don't break it, they will wither and die."

He leaned forward. "This is a very nasty breed of curse, rather like a poison. It's insidious. It will take them a lot of energy to break it, and it's going to hurt. They'll be weakened. You'll probably want to get them to the clinic. Also, because it operates on a psychic level, their recovery will be influenced by their mood. They'll need positive reinforcement, reassurance. 'Hug it out', as the saying goes."

Whatever. At least he wouldn't have to do that part. "Now, we know of a few people who've been sold cursed items. We've gone through radio broadcasts to get a list of everyone who was spotted entering the store. We'll need help to cover them all and make sure everyone has someone to try to snap them out of it. If you're willing to help, raise your hand and Four here can match you with someone. Any questions?"

[OOC: ~~Just a sec for the OCD!~~ Up! Have at!]

Current Location: Town Hall

14andseven

As usual when things started to go pear-shaped in Fandom, Roland was out and about with his guitar, attempting to help out the situation by playing soothing music.

He was about as surprised as anyone might be when this actually worked.

He made his way slowly through the town, playing and singing, a -- flock? school? mob? -- of eels dancing around in his wake, shrieking along in time with perfect rhythm, if not much by way of melody.

The plan, what little of one there was, was to gather as many of the things as he could and lead them down to the beach, where he would hopefully convince them to get back in the water and swim away, probably by singing "please get back in the water and swim away, you're bothering people".

Hey, you never knew.

14andseven

Okay, so admittedly it probably shouldn't have taken Roland as long as it did to realize he could actually create pockets of heat with his music. Admittedly, he didn't usually try to play at all when it got too cold. Gloves and guitars didn't mix too well. Either way, he was sure as hell enjoying that fact now, as he played a medley of Beach Boys songs and jacked the ambient temperature around him to a balmy 8 degrees (that'd be about 46 to you fahrenheit folks).

Look, he'd just learned this trick. He could only do so much!

Unfortunately, this trick had a side effect of attracting several stray cats to come bask in his warm spot, one of whom had decided to sleep on his foot. He was doing his best not to kick it off, but if it started clawing his jeans, all bets were off.

Stupid cats.

[yessss most definitely open!]

14andseven

Roland's usual busking pattern had been disrupted today by a group of little scaley green things doing a very growly, not terribly verbal rendition of "White Christmas". He applauded politely when they wrapped up, and they were taking their bows when a little swarm of squirrels in Victorian dress came rushing over, gathered in front of the gremlins, and starting squeaking "Silver Bells". The gremlins, looking quite put out, answered with "Deck the Halls" -- the switch of "fa la la la la" to "ra ra ra ra ra" actually worked surprisingly well -- to which the squirrels, after a brief conference among themselves, returned with "A Soalin", complete with tiny mandolin. The gremlins, hopelessly outclassed, subsided with a series of angry grumbles. One of them reached a clawed hand out towards the nearest squirrel, only to get whacked on the chest and told off by his fellow gremlin. The squirrels cheered for themselves, toasted each other with tiny bottles of rum, and then went scurrying off.

Roland watched them go, then looked back at the now thoroughly grumpy looking gremlins. "I don't suppose any of you play an instrument?" The gremlins grumbled. The one who'd wanted to eat the squirrel started eyeing Roland's leg hungrily. "Look," Roland said, playing a soothing chord on his guitar. "How about you try something like this."

And that was how Roland ended up teaching a mob of gremlins how to sing "Carol of the Bells".

14andseven

Roland generally had particular goals when he went out busking, corners where he knew he did well or where the scenery was particularly nice to look at, or routes he'd planned to take through the town to get some good coverage in.

Today he only had one goal: steer clear of the movie theater.

He didn't know why, but that place was giving him the major creeps. Eerie music box plinking at too slow a pace and in a minor key type creeps. Spooky little kid singing type creeps.

Yeeeeee.

He did his best to play something upbeat and lighthearted to counter the lingering creepiness, but kept finding himself doing things like playing "You Are My Sunshine" in a minor key.

Extra yeeeeee.

[ooc: Two for one! Interact with Roland and/OR get creeped out/creeped on by Johnny Bartlett, who I'll ping in when I get the chance!]

14andseven

Roland prided himself on being an all-weather street musician, but even he had a bit of trouble on the first really cold days of the year. His favorite method of dealing with it involved a thermos full of hot coffee, which meant parking himself outside a good, reliable source of said beverage.

And if this occasionally led to people taking pity on him and buying him the hot coffee, well. So much the better.

And if his particularly wintery song selection helped encourage that, well. What good was bard magic if it didn't occasionally net you free coffee?

[ooc: Roland's music won't actually make you any colder, but it will cast an illusion of snow on the ground around the Perk, and maybe up another character's natural empathy a little, if'n you're down with such an effect. Open!]

14andseven

After a brief panic attack over just what would happen when the guards discovered her off campus, Piper headed out into town to just enjoy the freedom to walk anywhere she wanted to. For as long as she wanted to.

There were so many stores. Like, she remembered that there were this many stores out in the world, of course, it wasn't like she had amnesia or anything but there were so many. Selling all sorts of things.

. . . If only she had any money.

[ooc: and Roland Chapman is now Piper Chapman. Open, sure!]

14andseven

After his bout of moping last night, Roland was back out on the streets with his guitar, ready for what he hoped would be decent sized crowds of friends and family. Well, decent for Fandom, anyway. A handful of coins would be good, really.

The night before had reminded him of some good music to play, at least. His guitar seemed enthusiastic about the chance to play something nice and uptempo.

[ooc: for -- eventually -- myself, but open before that.]

14andseven

Roland generally did okay with the whole handful-of-friends-and-not-much-family thing. He figured it fit in well with his whole urban rover lifestyle, and probably the bard thing, besides. He didn't do owning his own place or having a steady job, and friends came and went, and that was mostly fine for him.

But then there were days where he saw families and friends go by on the streets. Where he stopped ~~handwavily~~ by the picnic in the park for lunch and was surrounded by happy or awkward reunions. And then, sometimes, the fact that his closest friends all lived an entire world or more away started to bug him.

So, well after he was done busking for the night, he found himself leaning back on a nice quiet staircase, not quite ready to head back for home -- or couch -- just yet, and thinking of the people he'd like to have seen for the weekend. His mom, passed away just as he was coming into his own adulthood. Rebecca, the first person after her who ever believed he'd amount to anything. Evan, who refused to let Roland doubt he'd amount to anything.

So, with Patience in his lap and her case tucked away on the stair behind him, he started to play. Not for money. Not for practice. Just for himself. He closed his eyes and put all of them, all of his people, into the music, and felt, just for a moment, like he could actually reach them.

Then the song ended and he let his fingers go still and he opened his eyes to the dark street again.

"Well," he said to his guitar. "That's enough being melancholy. Let's go find some dinner."

[ooc: establishing. And now I have to go rehunt down more Irish folk music.]

14andseven

Roland was in a pretty good mood, today. The weather was crisp and delightfully autumnal -- so, you know, actually cool enough for the jacket he wore every day -- his morning caffeine hadn't come with any uncomfortable and melancholy reminders, and Canada had decided to give a thirty thousand dollar prize to a delightfully and astonishingly weird native singer instead of yet-another-pop-group.

He himself wasn't about to try any throat singing -- just listening too long made him want a lozenge -- but he was breaking out of his "classic" rut to try out something contemporary.

Just don't ask him to go pop. He had Feelings about pop music, okay?

[ooc: and now I'm about to make myself late to work because of throat singing. Woo!]

14andseven

Roland was usually a coffee kind of guy rather than a soda drinker, but he'd take either over any sort of tea, and today, he'd decided to swing by the Quick Stop for his daily caffeine fix instead of the Perk. Only to find them out of coffee. He'd grabbed the first bottle of soda he found instead, and didn't realize until he was getting himself set up for an afternoon of busking that it said "Share a Coke with Rebecca" on the side of it.

He'd gotten pretty good at not missing his old friend too much -- especially now he was living somewhere so chock full of distractions -- but every now and then, the grief still blindsided him. He wondered if she was keeping an eye on him now. He wondered what she and Evan got up to in the Light.

He wondered if the woman she became when her brain damage was reversed would even like him, very much.

"Alright," he said aloud, lifting the bottle in a toast and taking a sip before setting it aside to tune the guitar. "I probably can't actually share the soda, but here's a song for you." He felt like an idiot and an ass. "You know. If you're paying attention."

And he struck up Rebecca's favorite, a folk-style song about the adventures of a unicorn. The sun peeked out from a cloud as he played, warming his shoulders, and he couldn't help but smile. Yeah. Maybe she didn't hate him too much.

[ooc: because the random coke I got at Dunkin Donuts today says "Rebecca", and Roland doesn't get out to play often enough. Open!]

14andseven

Roland had taken approximately thirty seconds standing at the gate of the carnival to conclude that, yes. That was an evil carnival.

The music it put out was just . . . off. Like a Sousa march being played in minor key. That kept going sharp in the oddest places.

It was not the first time Roland had stood across from something that seeped evil intent and countered it with his own music. He'd even won, the last time. Of course, then he'd ended up banished to an evil dimension for a couple days.

Still. Couldn't let this go without doing at least something.

So Roland was here. Across the street from the carnival. Playing the most positive, good intentioned, mood-lifting music he knew.

Enjoy your magical Beatles/John Lennon medley, Fandom. At least maybe it'd help the folks who managed to escape.

[ooc: no really, there are actual magical mood lifters in the music. Effects are moddable, but generally should leave a character who listens feeling upbeat and energized. Fun with bard powers!]

teashopconman.livejournal.com

One of the bad things about this island, Hatter had found, was that it could get right boring when you let it. If you stayed inside and stared at the walls, you found yourself nearly ready to kick a hole in the nearest wall just to get some fresh air. So, fresh air was what Hatter was getting today.

He found that he continued to like the park for reasons that he couldn't really pinpoint. He guessed Alice would have liked something like this, sitting near a pond and talking quietly before she got bored and decided she wanted to teach him self defense or go somewhere else.

But, she wasn't here and Hatter was decidedly not thinking about her. Not at all. He was reading the local paper and sipping a tea that was currently settled on the bench beside him. The flamingos were a little loud today and it was distracting him.

"Would you quiet down?" he asked, frowning. "I don't have any food and even if I did, I wouldn't share it with you. It'd be for me."

And now he was talking to the flamingos. Fantastic.

[Open, of course]

Current Mood: bored

fracknotfrak.livejournal.com

Vic rushed into the Trooper Station cursing a blue streak the entire way with only a brief pause to tell Ralph to get the fuck out of her way.

Hey, it was her first morning after experiencing Fandom weirdness directly! She should feel a little freaked out!

[For those who might have been arrested during the weekend.]

14andseven

As the weekend started to fade, a lone figure could be found under a lonely streetlight, sax in hand, playing out the night with a low wail of blues.

Let the credits roll.

[ooc: because he's my only character who didn't manage to do anything yet.]

14andseven

In his quest to prove that the future's music couldn't be all Katy Perry and Justin Bieber, Roland had at least managed to add a few good modern songs to his repertoire. Like the ones he was singing today.

So it was sort of an odd mix of tones. That was what happened when you based your musical theme on the odd morning encounter.

[ooc: my day is slow and also long; my post is open.]

14andseven

. . . So Roland maybe could have thought through the whole "moving out of the ill-kept mad scientist mansion" thing a little more. It wasn't exactly cold out or anything, and it wasn't currently raining, but wandering the streets all day with his duffel and his guitar and the harp strapped on his back was giving him flashbacks to wandering through the Dark Adept's world, and he kept half expecting to turn a corner and be menaced by a cannibalistic giant.

At least that world had had a friendly -- albeit terrifying -- bear family to take him in. And the creepy vampire elves. Who would have ended up killing him.

Right, so Fandom was definitely better than the world of Darkness. That didn't change the fact that he didn't have anywhere to crash, tonight.

The harp let out a soft, mournful, minor key scale, sustaining the last note like a whine.

"Oh, shut up. It's not like you're going to go hungry."

14andseven

It was a nice enough day out that Roland figured the park would be a good bet. He was also hungry enough not to feel like wandering too far from pizza and donuts.

It was the little things that led to his location choices, these days.

He was having a Neil sort of day today, at least until someone requested something different. Sure, he could try learning to play something more modern, but it was always such a pain to try to work out heavy electronic work on an acoustic guitar.

Don't worry, even he'd get tired of the sixties and seventies, eventually.

14andseven

Roland had woken up with a craving for Tim Horton's.

J,GOB was at least a better replacement than some of the other American options he'd heard about.

He had himself a couple nice looking donuts. He had coffee. And he was only a day late celebrating the birthday of one of the more avant garde musicians of his era.

He didn't have any props -- or an accordion -- but he still felt he captured the spirit of the music well enough.

14andseven

Roland had found himself a nice tree to work under today at the park. Whatever the weather decided to throw at him -- sun, rain, hail, snow, literal cats and dogs -- he figured he'd be ready for it. You know, so long as it wasn't, like, a tornado or a tsunami. Or some kind of reverse rain thing where all the moisture was sucked up out of the ground into the sky in liquid form.

Between climate change and Fandom, you just never knew.

His choice of music today might be an attempt to subtly bard away any bad weather. Or maybe it was an ironic goodbye to the graduating class.

Honestly, he'd let you believe either one, so long as you dropped some money in his guitar case.

14andseven

So there was a distinct possibility that Roland had been in hiding for the last few weeks. No matter how much the harp fussed at him, he refused to go out into the streets until he knew for sure he'd still be him at the end of the day.

Unfortunately, Roland still needed to eat, and he still didn't have what most people would call a "real job", so he finally did have to break his hermitage and go back outside.

And if he stuck with early Beatles standards while he did so, well. It was kind of like a musical security blanket.

[why yes, it is open! I totally didn't manage to space out on posting this guy for a month. . . .]

14andseven

So Roland was once again a perfectly ordinary bard-slash-street musician. Who played the guitar, thank you very much. And had no interest in robots, crepes, or mandolins.

He was briefly faintly curious as to why he'd been into all of those things, but then decided he probably didn't want to know, anyway. Rebecca and Evan were probably having a great laugh at his antics somewhere watching their crystal ball or whatever, and the most important thing was that all of that meant he hadn't played his guitar in weeks.

Playing John Lennon on her was basically the guitar version of giving her a good, long hug.

14andseven

Roland the street vendor was out and about early as usual, pushing his crepe and baguette cart through the quiet park to the sound of zydeco playing on the stereo he hung from the side of the cart.

"Fresh crepes!" he called, in a really kind of extraordinarily terrible faux-Quebecois accent.* "French breads! Our flavors are magic!"

* He felt the accent lent authenticity to his business model. Plus, the ladies all loved the French, right?

[ooc: how could I resist an opportunity to have this guy flee from an invader? Open to non-invaders, as well, for all your morning park needs!]

14andseven

Roland Chapman, founder and sole member of the Toronto Modern-Classical Troubadors Movement, as out on the streets as usual with his mandolin (which he lovingly named "Constance"), combining lyric poetry of the High Middle Ages with dramatic classical Spanish guitar stylings.

Occitan-Spanish fusion was absolutely the future of neo-indie-folk rock. You just haven't heard of it, yet.

[ooc: because sometimes your BDE participation ends up being a running joke. Open, with bouts of slowplay]

14andseven

Roland wasn't in Bali. Which was really too bad. Sure, it wasn't the Carribean, but it was island living, and Roland was all about island living.

He was about the biggest parrot head you'll ever meet, even. That's why he constantly wore a Hawaiian shirt and sandals, even when it wasn't quite fifty degrees out.

Well, if he couldn't be in Bali, he could at least be in a tropical paradise in spirit.

Hope anyone still on the island liked Jimmy Buffett.

[any other sad little townies about?]

regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com

It was the happiest day of their lives. The day they would pull a beautiful scam and get presents. Also, wear matching red dresses.

The marquee on the Boards read:

CECIL / KENZI NUPTIALS, 1:30 PM
Welcome Fandom!
Please place your presents next to the cake table

[ooc: Posted with Drac's permission! Come one, come all! OCD up ~~in a sec.~~ now!]

14andseven

Back in Toronto, Roland tended to deal with busking on cold days by positioning himself near a windbreak, bouncing up and down while playing, and wearing as many layers as he could while still being able to move and play.

Since learning he was a bard, though, he'd started to develop some new techniques.

It might seem painfully ironic from a distance to see a street musician in a corduroy jacket singing about summer in the midst of one of the harshest winters North America had seen in a long time. But get close enough, and you'll find a nice pocket of pleasantly warm air, scented with fresh cut grass and buzzing with the low hum of cicadas.

Just watch out for the wild life trying to crowd in around Roland's feet.

14andseven

"Relax," Roland said as he entered, raising the hand not pretty much permanently attached to his guitar case. "I'm not here to sniff your coffee."

The staff didn't look convinced. They looked even less convinced when he tried -- again -- to convince them that their cafe needed live music.

"It's practically a cafe institution!" he said. "And it's much too cold out to work the streets properly right now. Do you know how hard it is to keep a guitar properly tuned in this kind of weather?"

Maybe he should consider taking some time off, the staff suggested. What with him being pregnant and all.

Just for that, Roland was going to set up in a corner and play just to spite them.

[ooc: for your Perk-y needs.]

regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com

Kenzi was in the park, practicing her new trick to impress the squirrels and other wildlife. Also, to see if she could do anything more than make pretty fuzzy pictures.

Singing "These Boots Are Made For Walking," got her some awesome bubbles of images, but did not, in fact, fix her boots. Le sigh.

[expecting one, but open!]

robinonadderall

Stiles was in a much better mood than the last time he had been at the coffee shop. His situation with Derek had been sorted out for the most part and he had been nightmare and weirdness free for a few days. So everything was pretty good. Which was weird.

Now he was sitting at the corner table at the Perk, hunched over his laptop and earbuds in. He had a special little project going on that involved a lot of research and attempting to get in contact with his own Derek or, ugh, Peter for information. He really hoped he wouldn't have to call Peter. Such a creeper.

[Post is open!]

14andseven

Having your sole source of income require you being outside meant that you got pretty used to working in some crappy weather conditions. So despite the special radio broadcast earlier (which he honestly had thought might be a joke), Roland had headed out to get some busking in.

Only to be chased down the street by the hail of tiny machine parts and all the dumbest things that have ever come out of his mouth.

So much for it being a joke.

"Heeeeey," he said, once he made it into the Perk and made sure that his guitar case had survived the falling metal without too much damage. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in some live music, today."

The staff behind the counter didn't look impressed.

"I'll let you pay me in hot beverages?" Roland tried.

One of the baristas perked up for a moment, but was then cowed by the glowers of the others. Roland sighed.

"Right, I'll have whatever you call a large coffee with one cream at this particular shop, then." Maybe he could wait the strange weather out.

Sure. That sounded likely.

[ooc: most surely open, should anyone be about.]

14andseven

Roland had his first really large, attentive audience since he moved to the island.

The trouble was, they were made up entirely of polar bears. Who wanted to pay him in soda. And only wanted to hear "I'd like to buy the world a Coke". Not even the longer single version about teaching the world to sing, the actual jingle. On repeat.

And, well, they were polar bears, so it wasn't like Roland could argue with them, could he? They had claws and sharp, pointy teeth.

And for some reason, cheerful red scarves.

Okay, then.

[ooc: open!]

14andseven

Roland wasn't out busking today to make money.

Okay, he wasn't just out busking today to make money.

He was mostly out busking today to calm the weirdos the hell down. He had his guitar, his magic, and John Lennon, and he'd used all three before to calm an angry and depressed crowd and move them back towards peace and happiness, and that had been when up against a Dark Adept himself, so surely it'd work against a few violently crazy folks, too, right?

And, you know, if it didn't, he also had his running shoes on. Even if death was apparently temporary on the island, right now, that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt a lot. Roland was a big fan of running away being the better part of valor.

[ooc: Open! I refuse to let the massive workload I have right now stop me from getting at least a little quality BDE in.]

14andseven

Admittedly, the first thing Roland thought when he saw the gun vending machines was "ugh, America."

He wasn't proud.

Now that it was obvious that this wasn't, in fact, a second amendment rights thing, but rather something to do with the folks who took over Mooby and managed to make it slightly more sketchy in the process, he felt both better and worse about what was going on in his little adopted town. On the one hand, the federal government of the country he was currently living in wasn't authorizing deadly weapons on sale via automated machine in a town full of teenagers. On the other, some faceless corporate entity that liked to call itself "Handsome Jack" and sounded remarkably slimy and dark on the radio was authorizing deadly weapons on sale via automated machine in a town full of teenagers, and the only thing worse than government bureaucracy run amuck was a faceless corporation run amuck.

Hence the sixties era protest music he'd chosen for today's busking. Though he was steering as clear as he could from the spots around town where the automated purchases of deadly weapons were happening. Just in case.

[ooc: as open as can be]

14andseven

So, it'd been bad enough when Roland had to skip busking yesterday (involuntary mittens and stringed instruments don't mix well). Now, as he walked along, he had to dodge randomly caroling townspeople.

It'd be less creepy if some of them didn't look either freaked out or resigned when they burst into song at him.

He hadn't been planning to start into the holiday music just yet (there was just so much of it that was so terrible that he liked to put it off as long as his audience would let him), but even when he started out trying to sing something nice off of "The Joshua Tree", he ended up doing a cover of Bono's "Baby Please Come Home".

He was slowly beginning to realize that the island itself might just be his most insistent audience. And if it wanted Christmas music, it was apparently going to get them, whether Roland liked it or not.

[ooc: Open! Work has finally slowed down enough for me to put up a post, omg!]

14andseven

The song Roland was singing just now was rather a bit slower than he'd usually go for without a specific request -- in general, busking did better with something up-tempo that better matched the motion of the crowd going by. Not that Fandom typically had many actual crowds going by. Actually, the song worked pretty well for the current lack-of-crowd.

Also, Lou Reed. Like Roland wasn't going to be playing his stuff after reading the news from the weekend.

[ooc: link to ~~we hope~~ Perfect Day by Lou Reed. Open post]

14andseven

So, it'd taken him a little while (and no small amount of feeling really old), but Roland had finally worked out the internet well enough to use YouTube.

Which apparently was better than some modern artists, as it took him all of five minutes to conclude that what the fox says is a horrifying banshee-like shriek that he was surprised the Dark hadn't yet claimed as its own.

He'd also managed to discover that not all modern music had gone the "disco without the soul" route of dance pop anthems. Some of the newer music was even really good. (He didn't think it was a coincidence how many of them were from Canada.)

For instance, the melancholy little love song he was currently singing about curling. You just couldn't get a metaphor like that from American football.

[ooc: open!]

14andseven

So far, Roland's research into the last 24 years of pop music had been . . . disappointing. At least it wouldn't be difficult to work out the guitar chords for any given song? Not that that was something he had a lot of difficulty with, in the first place.

The videos were interesting at least. Had people really forgotten how magnets worked? It wasn't something Roland was super familiar with, but he was pretty sure sciencey people had worked it out ages ago.

In response, today he was kicking it old school.

Johnny B. Goode was a classic for a reason.

[ooc: so very open, indeed.]

14andseven

Okay, so singing songs about sex all day maybe wasn't the best way to deal with the excess, er, energy floating around. Roland had run home after an afternoon of busking for a quick shower and, well, other preparations, and was now out in front of the post office, guitar still in hand (where he went, she went) and waited for his date for the evening to arrive.

He'd done okay for himself, today (the ~~NPC~~ townspeople were feeling generous, apparently). Minus the back rent he still owed Uncle Tony for his basement apartment in Toronto, he might even manage to buy them ice cream after, if dinner was cheap enough. . . .

[ooc: for the date, and lots of slowplay.]

14andseven

Roland had thrown all subtlety to the wind. He was unashamedly singing "Why Don't We Get Drunk" rather loudly and cheerfully.

There was a distinct possibility he'd already started on the first suggestion of the song's chorus. And, hey, according to the radio, the whole town was horny, so why not just roll with it?

At least he was too drunk to throw any magic into it. No one needed any sort of extra encouragement, this week.

[ooc: I amuse myself, yes. Open street corner is open!]

filleauloup

Bearing in mind Jack's warning from yesterday, Éponine would much rather have stayed home; really, her preference would have been to hole up in her warehouse and not come back out for at least a week, but there were things like keeping her job and getting food to worry about. (Not that she didn't think she could go without food for a few days, but given how she knew that, she'd rather not do it again if it could be helped at all.)

So when she went out on her delivery rounds she kept her head down and walked as quickly as she could manage (another thing she was used to doing), and when she got back she settled behind the counter, determined to avoid talking to people or dealing with them in any capacity as much as possible.

She'd grabbed a book on her way out this morning, but when it turned out to be a romance novel she promptly stashed it behind the computer and opted for playing games on her phone instead.

. . . interspersed with frequent bouts of jumping up to pace agitatedly across the floor, singing to herself half under her breath.

Hopefully no one would pick today to inquire about the HELP WANTED sign. Or have to mail anything.

14andseven

Roland picked the sidewalk outside the Perk for busking today, mostly because he'd stopped in for coffee, spent rather longer than he should flirting with a barista who was actually just a touch too young for him, and then kind of wanted to stick around in case she got off her shift and wanted to go fool around for awhile.

He wasn't proud.

Of course, it didn't help that the only songs he could think of to sing today were things like "Why Don't We Do It In the Road". Since he generally preferred to be at least slightly subtle (well, he tried, anyway), he went with "Afternoon Delight" instead.

At least he had home to leave the harp in, now. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it would have to say about his, uh, mood, today. (Especially since he was pretty sure it would whole-heartedly approve and, well, that just brought up memories he preferred to leave buried, thanks so much.)

[ooc: open, yis.]

justlurkinghere

Derek hadn't had time for a proper shaving this past week. This somehow translated into an epic beard in that short a time.

Yeah.

Look, he was a hairy guy. Just be glad you can't see what it looks like when he neglects to shave his chest. ...Okay, that wouldn't be too bad to see, but still. Still.

The bar was in possession of an epic beard. So take that, Eric.

14andseven

Having spent the last twenty-four hours scoping out the town (okay, so there was that whole part where he'd had to go back to the mainland to find a motel he could actually afford, and then spending the morning trying to ignore the harp's insistence that he come back but the hours other than those), Roland decided the park was his best bet for a good afternoon busk. It was pretty centrally located, and lined with some decent businesses, so it'd hopefully get some good traffic.

And if not, well. He could at least entertain the ducks.

He considered starting with something like "Kashmir", but that was hitting a touch too close to home, just now (seriously, it was still July, 1989 on the mainland, how was it September, 2013 here? At least now he knew he wasn't stuck in the future), so he went with a folk song about an old legend. Maybe somewhere Rebecca could hear it and appreciate it.

[ooc: so very open, indeed. Link to (hopefully) "The Last Unicorn" by America]

14andseven

So the thing about deciding to follow the directions of your at least semi-sentient magical harp (with occasional chiming in from your as-far-as-you-always-knew-not-actually-sentient-or-magical guitar) was that after awhile, you started to remember that neither said harp nor said guitar actually had eyes, and thus couldn't actually know that they were leading you down a really long road across open water to what looked like it might possibly be an evil magical citadel.

Roland really hoped that the harp hadn't decided it really missed the world of the Dark and was making him take it home. It didn't seem likely; he was pretty sure the balance of Light and Dark was all fixed now, but still. That was definitely a castle, and while he certainly wouldn't put building a random castle just outside of Baltimore past some enterprising American, it really didn't seem like it fit what he knew of the city.

Of course, what he knew of the city basically came down to "they have a baseball team", so.

He stalled out a bit at the end of the causeway, staring up towards the castle, only barely managing to take in the details of the town that led up to it. The harp had finally quieted down, so he supposed this was, in fact, where she wanted him to end up, but that didn't mean he was going to go exploring before he at least managed to work out whether or not the place was inhabited by evil elves.

[ooc: And the townie I've had in mind for three years finally makes it to town. Open post, sure!]

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