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Bent Conversations [Phone calls, texts, and letters.]
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Millicent Grim
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 16, 2017 8:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Sinon Lagos [7:51 pm, 9/16/2017]: Mm. How about you come find me first. And we can walk there together.
Text to Sinon Lagos [7:52 pm, 9/16/2017]: If only because it will still be early.
Text to Sinon Lagos [7:52 pm, 9/16/2017]: And I like walking with you.
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 17, 2017 4:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Millicent Grim [3:28 pm, 9/17/2017]: I am finishing with my work early today.
Text to Millicent Grim [3:30 pm, 9/17/2017]: I would like to see you.
Text to Millicent Grim [3:32 pm, 9/17/2017]: Dinner, tonight?
Text to Millicent Grim [3:36 pm, 9/17/2017]: Formal. The hotel.
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 19, 2017 11:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Meadow [3:28 pm, 9/19/2017]: Hi, Meadow. I... was wondering. So like, I'm doing a cover of Rainbow (Kesha) for the new album. It's going to be a bonus track. I have been playing around with it, and I realize I need some orchestra type backup for those parts. And, honestly, I really liked that snippit of your stuff I heard. Do you think you'd be up for maybe giving it a go?
Text to Meadow [3:28 pm, 9/19/2017]: There's also something else, but we can talk about that later.
Text to Meadow [3:29 pm, 9/19/2017]: But um... My manager would have to make it official with contracts and stuff, but I'd like to jam with you about it.
Text to Meadow [3:30 pm, 9/19/2017]: .wav file sent. Rain23aP.


Millicent's version of Rainbow was inspired. It was inspired, longing and sad. The first verse seemed eerily biographical, Meadow would recognize this as such and of course that's why Millicent had chosen the song. Millicent had been known to be a monochrome girl. White or black. She wore the occasional spatter of colour, but as the song also said, this was mostly in her snow-white hair. But as Millicent had grown older, she began to have a relationship with colours. And as of late, she was truly exploring what they did to her and what she could do with them. [It reminded one of the Tori lyrics: "To get off he cries "slutty goth" But I'm a brightly colored person."]

And deep down, I'm still a child
Playful eyes, wide and wild, I can't
Lose hope, what's left of my heart's still made of gold


But, of course, Millicent was subculture. Or subculture was in her, and though she should wear mostly black, she wore mostly white. Her musical fan base came from the alternative culture, and most certainly the goth industrial genre. That group afforded her an ability to be fragile, explicit, and artistic. Her rise to fame had been in a band, but also with a solo career. Her solo music broke boundaries, but still leaned heavy on narrative and piano. There was always something a little dark, and most certainly sad in her work and her voice. This song was no exception. Though, there should be no loss of irony in Millicent Grim covering a Kesha song.

In the song, Millicent accentuated intricate, though not overly, fragile runs with her feminine voice throughout the song. Both she and the original artist had matured and had more velvet in their voice. And in this way, her vocals reached out and coiled around the listener, drawing them in to the narrative of the song.

And the song was inherently sad, though hopeful. A girl expressing her point of view in optomisim. And Millicent was expressing it to someone specific, because her primary change in the lyrics was changing the sex of the listener. "Girl" became "boy" On occasion, it became "love."

I found a rainbow, rainbow, baby
Trust me, I know life is scary
But just put those colors on, boy
You gotta learn to let go, put the past behind you
Trust me, I know, the ghosts will try to find you
But just put those colors on, love
Come and paint the world with me tonight

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 9:54 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voice mail to Millicent Grim [3:14 am, 9/22/2017]:
Heavy rain against a window, a sound familial to the color blue and the sensation of being hollowed out, right inside the chest cavity, against the ribs. Rain. Over a phone, the rain sounds like static, like white noise. No -- it sounds like a wave in perpetual crash, infinitely spreading across a shore.

He comes in after a long pause. The mood is set. Millicent. I am in -- Buenos Aires. He bends the name in his mouth, like a native. It's shape is all history and dreams, revolutions and political intrigue. I had business here. I do not know what time it is there, it gets odd when we make these calls across the divide, but here, here it is just past 3 in the morning. I cannot sleep. A long, long sigh. I wish you were here. I did not sleep yesterday. I will not have much time to sleep tomorrow. I could use you. And, though he doesn't spell it out; "What's more, Millicent, is I miss you." But she must read between the lines. Another long pause, this time ended by the sound of a cigarette lighting. The first inhale is one pure pleasure. A crackle of burning material leaves room to imagine it isn't tobacco.

I spent some hours visiting the National Library here. I do not know if you read as much as I do, but it is a gorgeous, historic building. Jorge Luis Borges was once the director; if you do not know who that is, I will lend you some of his books. I have original copies. Do you speak Spanish? I can provide translations, too. I no longer read him, because in truth, he can't, but I did when I was younger. History, maps, mirrors. He went blind, Millicent. A writer going blind. John tells me that is terribly funny, and I agree, but it is also terribly sad. I would hate to go blind. I would never get to see you.

Another pause. A sound of glass and wood scraping together, and then the volume of the rain is both magnified and softened, as though he were peering into a great hollow of noise. He's opened the window, but if she thinks he's enjoying it, the return to the phone dismisses that idea. Sinon has a sadness to the timbre of his voice. They have maps, too. A great collection of maps. I was allowed into the private collection, and I even found one I had not seen before. A primitive outlining of the interior of the continent. I --- hm. I have it with me. Maybe I should show you when I get back.

I just wish you were here, Millicent. I would sleep. You mean more to me than that, but you mean that, too. You mean sleep. You mean peace. I wonder if you have Hypnos as an ancestor. There was a cult, centuries ago, that worshiped him in a modern revision, but they had it all wrong. A hundred star-eyed fanatics would sacrifice their sleep to him, foregoing it for as long as they could in self-destructive worship. I could put them all to shame but would rather pray at your feet and sleep for days. My brother says he knows of another cult that speaks of a city of dreams; you visit it when you sleep. You might call him insane, but you do not know my brother. You have not even met him yet. But I believe him, if he says it. I should have him over sometime. I think you would like him. But maybe you could send me there, this city. I imagine they have good libraries.

Inhale, exhale. For some time the sound of smoking and rain just continues, as if the sound of his breathing is enough to maintain the call. Then: I am going to try and sleep again. I have brought some of you with me, the dress you wore. It smells like you. Such a poor substitute. I love you, dikos mou. I will see you when I get back.

>dial tone<
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 11:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voice mail to Sinon Lagos [9:27 am, 9/22/2017]:
Her voice is soft and edgeless. It feels like the soft Mmm upon waking.
She calls from bed, after lazily glancing at her phone and seeing she has missed a call from him in the night. Her heart is on her tongue.
Sinon, my beautiful, Sinon. I'm ....so sorry. There is a sigh here, and it is heartfelt and deep. I reap the rewards of your hardship with sleep and I feel guilty. I could listen to you speak about writers, history, maps and your excursions ad infinitum. I've listened to your message several times, sometimes for the content, sometimes just to hear your voice and the way you sound. ... It hurts. My heart hurts for you, and I do feel guilty. Guilty at the pleasure garnered from waking up to such a thing even though I realize you called because it is... unpleasant.

I have this crushing desire to curl up with you. Pull you close and run my fingers through your hair until your breathing stills and becomes even. Sleeping next to you is its own quiet melody.

I miss you.

I wish telling you to think of that would help.

I wish I could do or make something for you that could help. To replace me when you are away.

But of course, also, I hope nothing could do that. Nothing but me.

And I'm guilty again.

...Have you read Borges' "The Sect of the Phoenix"? I do not speak Spanish, just a little French, some Italian which gives me some insight into Spanish and Latin. The latter I've also garnered from my strange readings of occult things. Bad habits and intrigues. But, you should read that story. Think of me. Perhaps Ulrikke as well, from The Book of Sand. A fitting reference, non? ...Let's discuss these sometime. ...I love when you tell me stories. Maybe I can convince you to read them to me in Spanish, and translate them to me like your Greek. The soft, lilting mystery in your voice... just thinking of it makes me calm. And again... not just guilty but greedy as well.

But... you make me feel like a Phoenix sometimes. Burning hot, and bright, and new. ...but perhaps I should leave images that are softer, something to sleep by. Soft moon-light on skin, and a gentler warmth next to you in the night. Quiet, and tired. Something peaceful and deep, soft as waves in a quiet sea. Perhaps a lake. The soft scent of a hairline and an echo of taste in the mouth. There. Yours.

Ah.... ....I miss you.

Find me in that city, Sinon. Then come find me when you're home.

>dial tone<
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 23, 2017 12:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voice mail to Millicent Grim [2:71 am, 9/23/2017]:

The message comes in on a screech of wild, inharmonious tones, on discordance and electron lightning, and for nearly fifteen seconds the recording is nothing but broken noise. Even the displayed time is corrupt. No clock goes past 60 minutes, and yet this message does, as though it's crossed through to sometime impossible, just beyond the moments a clock flips over. Like Sinon had just decided to keep going in the second hour of the morning, unwilling to enter the third, and had called somewhere from within the madness. It's a call from Never Never Land and the technology just doesn't know what to do. But then he speaks, and Millicent knows the tone exactly [resonance in the bones, in the blood, tectonics and fire]; she's heard it once before. It's the red luminescent halo of Sinon Lagos. It truly is a call from beyond.

I can see you, Millicent. You are sleeping, a slip of white in black sheets. I told them to let you visit if you wanted, to sleep in our room if you wanted, and I am glad you did. The phone next to you was just ringing; that was me. I can see you. You are so beautiful when you sleep. It brings me peace to see you. I am sorry I did not ask permission, but I also do not care. I had to see you. I wondered what you would be doing, if you would be alone, with someone, writing music, if you would pick up. If you would pick up and hear me.

I will be home tomorrow. Late. I need you again. Be there for me. I always need you again.

Tomorrow.

The message drops off into nothing before repeating two more times, inexplicably.

>dial tone<
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 23, 2017 2:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voice mail to Sinon Lagos [10:01 am, 9/23/2017]: Millicent's voice is velvet with sleep again. A murky thing, swimming through underwater forests of the unconscious. She'd developed a habit of checking her phone when nearly still asleep. It rarely disappointed as of late. And her smile still curled the corners of her mouth, staining her timbre a soft pink. Late tonight, Sinon? I'll see you? Mmm. I would love that. Maybe I'll just stay here today. Lounge in bed like a lazy thing, littering your sheets with an overwhelming base of skin-scent and lethargy. Will you wake me up? How will you? I wish I could steel glimpses of you when you were away. ...I don't know if you would appreciate it in the same way I do. Hmm. She laughed softly, as if for the first time thinking of the implications and the act he had committed. It was not the blood that caused her quiet amusement, but her consideration of the inspiration and the violation of it. It did not go unnoticed. The gravity would come later.

Her voice deepend. Something different. I'm jealous.

Is that obsession?

I can't wait to show you what that means.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 25, 2017 2:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Millicent Grim [1:13 pm, 9/23/2017 <picture attached>]: Sinon sends a picture of a keyboard setup in the apartment Sinon shares with Millicent when she's over. The box it came in sits in the background.
Text to Millicent Grim [1:17 pm, 9/23/2017]: I see you set yourself up so you do not need to leave. Most of the time it is a tooth brush.
Text to Millicent Grim [1:18 pm, 9/23/2017]: Not that I mind. I am just amused.
Text to Millicent Grim [1:20 pm, 9/23/2017]: I tried to play it but it only made strange noises. Can you come over early and show me how it works?
Text to Millicent Grim [1:21 pm, 9/23/2017]: I promise to pay attention to the lesson and keep my hands to myself.
Text to Millicent Grim [1:24 pm, 9/23/2017]: Mostly.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 25, 2017 2:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The texts had woken her. She had decided on taking a nap, figuring she would need one if he was coming home late. She had placed her phone on 'priority only' so the phone making noises could only have been him. But she had been deep asleep, only having laid down maybe 45 minutes prior. She reached blindly for the device, blinking at the light of it. It vibrated in her hand as she held it. Her smile was aglow in the ghost-light of the screen. She laughed quietly.

Text to Sinon Lagos [1:26 pm, 9/24/2017]: Sinon. Keep walking.
Text to Sinon Lagos [1:27 pm, 9/24/2017]: Bedroom.
Text to Sinon Lagos [1:27 pm, 9/24/2017]: I'll show you, after.
Text to Sinon Lagos [1:28 pm, 9/24/2017]: Mostly.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 4:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Millicent had been in New York for two days. Two, long, exhausting days. She had not expected to be back here so soon. But such was the nature of recording. Publicists needed to be wrangled, demos had to be played. Contracts for additional musicians needed to be drafted and rights needed to be purchased for covers of very recent albums of other artists. Millicent was exhausted, and she was bone weary, and a piece of her was missing. There was a distinct hole in her calm. There was something lurking in the fog of her, and it was devouring things she kept in the mist. Things she kept from prying eyes and felt safe knowing they were there. She had not noticed this gap before, though she knew the creature that manifested it or perhaps stumbled upon it and put out the alarum call. But the hole was, by now, distinct and well defined. It had a shape, like something belonged there like a missing puzzle piece. So, she texted him.

Text to Sinon Lagos [10:27 pm, 9/28/2017 <picture attached>]: The picture is of Millicent-- white on white. A milk-white girl wrapped up in white, foreign sheets. The bed was enormous, it could fit 12 of her, perhaps more if one got creative. [She imagined Sinon was quite creative with such puzzles.] The image was a selfie, but it had some charm to it and skill in attractive negative space. Her head was towards the foot of the bed, and the bed ended only feet from a perfect wall of glass. Beyond the glass was Central Park at night. It had that crisp New York sense to it, but that old-money, old world flavor that Central Park elicited at night. Something about the view could always invoke the 20s. There was a warmth to the lights, and a perfect greyness to the buildings. Millicent's head was canted, and the pose was evocative of movement-- one knew that she had been looking out the window and then tossed herself over, hair in a wild snow-halo above her head, to take the picture. Her smile was soft, but it curled a bit devilishly at the edges. As devilish as the discreet cut of frame a few inches beneath her avian collar bones. But Sinon would notice the eyes. A soft, warm madness. They were wide and bright, but they looked sad. Perhaps haunted.
Text to Sinon Lagos [10:28 pm, 9/28/2017]: I miss you.
Text to Sinon Lagos [10:29 pm, 9/28/2017]: I want to go walking in the park, but it's late. And I would just miss you more.
Text to Sinon Lagos [10:30 pm, 9/28/2017]: When was the first time you walked in the park here, Sinon? I wish you were here to tell me stories.
Text to Sinon Lagos [10:31 pm, 9/28/2017]: ...and I wish you could sign texts with lip prints, like love letters.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 10:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voice mail to Millicent Grim [6:02 am, 9/29/2017]: There was a clear sense of awakening to open the message, of a man taking the first heavy breaths of the morning. In through a sleep-stuffed nose, out through a slack-lazy mouth. A shift of weight in the bed; springs ache, skin drags across silk. Then zippo ignition, shape inhale of cigarette, and a sudden, invisible clarity. Sinon scratches his scalp in a moment of audible thinking. He continues to smoke through the whole message.

Central Park. Mm. I was there for the grand opening of the Delacorte Theater, but that was just history and not terribly interesting. A lot of people were there. The theater was something of a controversy among us, actually. There was -- there still is, if you know where to look, and how -- there was a small group of artists raiding the park before that, putting on secret performances all through the 40s and 50s. Wild eyed children, maniac preachers, sages, professors, the homeless, the .. mm. If you knew a person who knew a person, you might know where to be, and when. A reckless breed of performers.

Sinon's voice hung, striking a note somewhere between wistful and forlorn. For a moment he just returns to smoking. Smoking and thinking.

When Joseph Papp came in with official theater, they had move out of the park. The police started looking out for them. They were unofficially banned. Started performing around the city. Then Jamal vanished, and for a bit my brother was heavily involved. In the 80s things went poorly for them. The 80s were bad for a lot of us. Drugs, Millicent. It is really hard to express how they got to everyone.

I do not think any of the original members are still involved, but maybe I should ask John where they will be performing next. We could go see them together. Last time I saw them, they preformed in an old cathedral that had been built over a century prior; we walked through the subway for an hour to reach it. The time before it was just a random roof top. I do not think they even knew who owned the building below. Ha.

Again, a return to smoking. Sinon does not talk again until the cigarette is finished.

Millicent, I want you to do me a favor while you are in New York. It will take you a while to do it, but I will appreciate it. There is a bar on 7028 Tallwood, in Brooklyn. You might amuse yourself with the bartender if you wish, but I suggest you do so respectfully. Do you remember me talking of him? Below the bar is a little shop; tell them I sent you, and that you are there to meet the book keeper. They may ask you for a pass phrase; tell them you are there for the Mysteries of New York. The owner is vaguely related to my family, I believe he is making something of a joke, do not worry. There are no mysteries to experience. Not there.

They have a rare edition of a book waiting for me. It will be in Latin, you will not find it interesting. It is just a series of essays on some early map making techniques, and I wish to read over it to confirm a suspicion I have about a certain famous map. I simply have not had a chance to pick it up.

While you are there you may be interested in some old publishings in the back. Go look. I will not spoil the surprise, but I think you will -- appreciate it.

See you when you get back, Millicent.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 29, 2017 11:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Millicent Grim [9:13 am, 9/29/2017 <picture attached>]: Uncharacteristic of Sinon, the first picture to arrive is a poorly framed and out-of-focus self portrait. Or, perhaps, it is characteristic of the man -- photography and film are strengths, but not technology. He had not intended to send a picture of himself; he is clearly aiming the phone at something on the other side of the phone, but he he's selected the wrong camera. Thus Millicent sees an awkward glimpse of a confused Lagos prince, face screwed in annoyance, tongue tucked into the corner of his sharp mouth. One element to note; Sinon wore a very specific tie, one that still smelled of Millicent. Possession.

Text to Millicent Grim [9:22 am, 9/29/2017 <picture attached>]: The next picture arrived as he'd intended the first, and that it only took him nine minutes to sort it out was something of a miracle. Sinon elected to show Millicent an old photo of a motley pack of strangers, with his face in the corner being the only familiar one of the lot. The picture was black and white, or was once. Time had yellowed it and lifted the corners and edges into little curling waves. It would only take a moment to deduce the origin of the picture: these were the aforementioned renegade actors of New York. Sinon had an arm looped loosely around a woman with black eyes and a tight crop of equally black hair, and she herself had two hands set on the shoulders of a younger, slimmer man who looked remarkably like Sinon. Others fanned out from there: a short girl with sharp, elf-like ears, another girl with a single white stub of horn peaking through blonde tresses, a third woman who conspicuously cast no shadow, and a half dozen men with an equal array of oddities. The more normal looking actors arranged themselves in the foreground, and there is a sense that they are perhaps oblivious to the demonstration behind them, or simply unimpressed.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 29, 2017 12:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Sinon Lagos [11:27 am, 9/29/2017]: That face, Sinon. That mouth. ...lol. I wonder when I'll see that for myself. Maybe when I show you how to set up the keyboard.
Text to Sinon Lagos [11:28 am, 9/29/2017]: Or maybe I'll make a game of it.
Text to Sinon Lagos [11:31 am, 9/29/2017]: Are they fairies?
Text to Sinon Lagos [11:33 am, 9/29/2017]: Sorry. I mean, I just saw Midsummer Night's Dream at the Delacorte this summer. It was exquisite. The girl who played Helena was ... hilarious. And fabulous. I wanted to take her for drinks but it rained.
Text to Sinon Lagos [11:47 am, 9/29/2017 <picture attached>]: This picture has a similar feel to the last, which is unsurprising as it seems to have been taken in the same place. There is the glass wall that spans what must be an entire section of the building she is in. If he scrutinized the view, this was a different apartment, maybe 2 or 3 floors above where she was before. And a little more Westward. Millicent has not taken this picture, someone else has. For Millicent is seated before the only piece of furniture in this immaculate, modern apartment. She is in front of a sleek black grand piano. She is intently looking at her hands, though her arms are loosely akimbo, it doesn't appear that she is playing anything particularly intense, or that she has just ended... or stopped to ponder something. She is very... soft, like a first snow. Her hair is swept back, but a sizeable tendril forms a forelock, dangling over her bowed features. She is wearing a white men's shirt. Immaculate but with the two top buttons undone. Armani. Maybe Tom Ford. [Was it his?] But the star of the picture, unintentionally, has to be the man standing next to her. One knee was crooked and caught on the piano stool, one arm bent and used to lean on as it grips the edge of the instrument. He was hovering, insouciant, a little jaunty, but enviously elegant. His is a silver fox of a man. His fingers are long and white, feminine and almost claw like on the wood. He is wearing an extremely fashionable, extremely tight, extremely unisex and extremely modern grey suit of some soft, maybe even slightly fuzzy material. But it was far from garish. It was quite French. He is very slender and very long, but something is wolfish about him. No, silver fox was indeed a better word. He had a slightly, ever so slightly heart-shape to his long face. His features are exquisite. He was beautiful, even angelic. One who studies such things would think Gaulic or Alsatian decent but he was so, so pretty. He has long, slightly wavy silver hair, and this falls around his features much like Millicent's, with a grey curl bisecting his brow. And beneath that finely sculpted brow are grey, gimlet eyes. They are almond shaped and intense. And clearly he had been watching what Millicent was doing, but now he looked, through silver lashes, right at the camera. Half moons of gunmetal irises regarded the action of taking a photograph with some amusement. In fact, everything about him seemed to laugh, like everything was some sort of joke. But it was a dark laugh. Something lopsided. There is the faintest touch of a curl at the corners of his thin, but attractive white lips. One could imagine a snide comment coming from that mouth at the action of taking a picture, but the man was so perfectly proportioned and posed, that he almost had to have known he was getting his picture taken. Maybe it was a promotional photo. It was, indeed, professional quality. For the photo was a very large file, and a lot of the beautiful glass and perfect floor (the view, as you will) were featured in the negative space. But the two monochromatic figures were key-- Millicent softly studious in white, and this almost protective, gender bending kitsune in grey.
Text to Sinon Lagos [11:48 am, 9/29/2017]: Playing Ephemeral. I miss you.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 29, 2017 4:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Uncharacteristically, the texts came at high speed, one after the other.

Text to Millicent Grim [2:40 pm, 9/29/2017]: Millicent, who is that?
Text to Millicent Grim [2:41 pm, 9/29/2017]: Should I be worried?
Text to Millicent Grim [2:41 pm, 9/29/2017]: I have a sense of maybe I should be. His look bothers me.
Text to Millicent Grim [2:41 pm, 9/29/2017]: It makes me want to draw my name across your spine and ribs in lurid letters.

Then, after a pause --

Text to Millicent Grim [2:53 pm, 9/29/2017]: Did you like playing our song?
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Millicent Grim
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm


Joined: 31 Aug 2016
Posts: 56
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 29, 2017 5:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Text to Sinon Lagos [3:01 pm, 9/29/2017]: Worried, Sinon? About what?
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:01 pm, 9/29/2017]: Oh. Hmm. That's Laurent being a jackass. He always looks like that. Always like he's just about to say something awful. Though...
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:05 pm, 9/29/2017]: I think he did that on purpose. Something... hmm.
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:05 pm, 9/29/2017]:Everyone loves our songs. I think that makes him mad. No. Sad. Which then makes him mad. Not mad. Envious? It's complicated. I don't think I told you, but he plays the piano, too. But he hasn't been inspired in a very long time. Not like that. ...I sometimes wonder if that would always happen to an artist who grew that old. ...he listens to me talk about you and I can see him trying to pick the music from it, and he can't. Muses. They are very real.
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:06 pm, 9/29/2017]: But Sinon, your name is there. And everyone who hears me play knows that, too. ...That's what I think about when I play. It's like the letters of your name start to glow. And they are warm and white and red.
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:06 pm, 9/29/2017]: S i n o n
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:06 pm, 9/29/2017]: White, like the sun, right?
Text to Sinon Lagos [3:07 pm, 9/29/2017]: Even my skin misses you. Now I wish I could play for you while you did that. What a perfect music video... Just... I will keep that thought with me, and play it over and over again untill I see you next.
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