A couple of farm boys

[fuckitall]

Who| Nick, Luke and youuuu
What| A couple of farm boys singing and playing guitar~ Bringing them drinks is fine too
Where| On the rooftop of the Training Center
When| After the mini arena
Warnings/Notes| Brackets or prose - we'll match you! c:



(For Luke)

[After the "slumber party", Nick feels anything but well-rested. To his and Luke's relief, Clementine and Beth made it out alive but the same cannot be said for some of the others. They'd all come back to life anyway - only to probably have to do it all over again. Even knowing and believing that doesn't make it any easier to swallow. His life, here and back at home, seems to be a spiraling cycle of hell.

He arrives at the rooftop of the Training Center, a place that's becoming his go to spot to sit and think. Today he comes with a guitar he just bought from one of the Capitol shops. It was an impulsive purchase that he would never make back when home was normal, but why the hell not? It's been a long time since he had held a guitar, let alone played one, but he remembers the last time he did.

He sits down and turns the holo on to ping Luke to meet him on the roof of the TC. He doesn't elaborate any more than that, mostly because he doesn't trust the device given to them. The folks running this business are smart enough to track every conversation that's for sure.

Nick holds the guitar, getting the feel of it back in him again as he strikes a few chords with the pick before daring to play a song. Familiar notes from way back when become real and present again as he plays through the introduction, humming the lyrics to himself because his confidence in singing is significantly less than his guitar playing.

It doesn't take long for the waves of nostalgia wash over him though. Once he reaches the chorus, he can't help himself - and to his surprise, it becomes easier after the first line.]

Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain
I feel summer creepin' in and I'm tired of this town again

(Everyone else + Luke and Nick)

They sit by the roof’s edge, passing the guitar between each other, time slipping away as memories of bygone days wash over them both. A sweet sort of pain. Lightly calloused fingers find the strings, remember them long before the words to the songs they’re plucking out come to them. And every now and again Luke surfaces from his thoughts long enough to glance over his shoulder to see who has come to join them, the look in his eyes gentle and unguarded. More than it ought to be, maybe. But this is the closest thing to relaxed, to happy he has felt in so long, in longer than he can begin to remember clearly, and not even the irony of knowing where he has found himself now can take this moment away from him.

His gaze follow Luke's to land on the other person and he wonders if they had heard him singing earlier. But for once he doesn't let his mind think about the what ifs. For the first time in a while, he feels good (as good as one can get, given the circumstances), making it easy for him to just concentrate on the present moment. There's still a slight melancholic mood over it, but definitely not tense like what they're used to. He's glad to see Luke relaxing to this especially after what they've both been through back at home. It's a reprieve they all needed.

Comments

[hit_girl_mindy]

What was a heavy mood for some was a downright oppressive mood for others, and for Mindy, there was nothing less then a melancholic cloud over her head. It was even more intense than that, and for right now, staying alone by herself was enough to get her contemplating her life here, which did nothing to lift her mood. So she wandered, from the training room to her lounge and then finally found herself on the roof of the building not surprised to see someone was here. It tended to be a popular place depending when you dropped in, and she'd certainly been here more than once.

The guitar was enough to at least lift her spirits slightly. The embarrassment of earlier, the agony of her current time-at least that could wash away a little bit and get lost in the lingering melody in the air attended to by the strumming of fingers. She could appreciate that: it took work to make a guitar sing like you wanted to, after all, and for right now, the rise and falls of strings seared in her a little, in a good way. Her eyes were red, her hair slightly untidy and her manner unusually restrained, Mindy was sure her appearance did not invite conversation, and for right now, that was ok.

After a few minutes, she looked up at the man. "You take requests?"

[burningdaylight]

Luke looks to the kid and takes her in on a glance. They’ve all seen better days, he’s sure, but this girl is more harried-looking than any ever ought to be and he can feel his heart ball up tightly in his chest with an ever-deepening sense of pity – and of failure. And though his brows tilt up and eyes soften in sympathy he tries gamely to keep the mood light for all their sakes, blinking and willing a gentle smile to bend his lips into something other than an apologetic frown.

"Oh, you bet he does." Luke gives Nick a lazy nudge of his shoulder, glancing to him. "Ain’t that right, Nick?"

[hit_girl_mindy]

Mindy tried to manage a smile, but there was barely a flicker. It was a down note time for her, and though she could probably do with some lifting of her spirits, there were still some things, in its horribly sad way, that would make her feel a little better to hear. Right now there was a tune her dad had always seemed to like, and she herself had loved after a time.

"You know 'Is there Anybody Out There' by Floyd? From 'The Wall?'"

[fuckitall]

This girl looks like she been through a lot and given what just happened, he can only imagine what. Nick looks at Luke as if to ask "are you sure you want me to make her cry?" but the song she mentions gets his attention and he changes his mind. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites." And thankfully, it's instrumental for the most part and he's played it by the ear many times before. He hopes that the girl thinks he's doing the song justice.

He takes the guitar and starts it off slowly, letting the muscle memory take over completely as if he had never left the front porch of his house.

[Nick]

[burningdaylight]

[Nick’s message catches Luke while he’s fighting to shake off the aching grogginess following the closest thing to a nap he’s been able to have in days, his head muddled and thick and pounding when he reaches across the bed for his device. It’s a small blessing that nothing serious awaits him. After twenty years of knowing Nick he feels fairly confident in arriving to that conclusion, able to pick up on the faintest traces of upset or agitation leaking into his friend’s voice. Still, Luke’s at the Training Centre as soon as he can make it, stopping only briefly along the way for a few cans of beer and some fruit he hopes Nick might appreciate as well. Not the most appealing combination in the world, he’s aware, but it’s been a few nausea-filled weeks since his arrival and he can still barely count on one hand the things he could eat without a care and not suffer for.

He hears Nick before he sees him, the old, familiar twang of the acoustic guitar calling to him, pulling at him. And as he listens longer, mouthing along to long-memorized lyrics that rise through the haze of his memory, a pang of nostalgia hits hard. It sucks the breath from his lungs and leaves him on the trembling edge of laughter, on the edge of tears at the sudden swell of memories, and it’s a while before he joins in. Before he even can pitch in a few lines in his warm southern drawl, unable to help the smallest of smiles that tugs at the corners of his mouth as he comes up from behind hugging his groceries to his chest. His first smile in a week -- and he almost feels guilty for it in the way he feels sick with frustration and regret for having failed to spring Clementine and Beth out of the arena.]

…Buy me a drink, sing me a song, take me as I come ‘cause I can’t stay long. [He clears his throat a bit afterwards, his voice thick with sleep.]

[fuckitall]

[The song is more of Luke's thing than Nick's, but they both have their own favorite parts to this song. Here, he arrives at his:]

I'm tired of screwin' up, tired of going down
Tired of myself, tired of this town

[He's no Tom Petty, but he deems it passable. If it weren't for the fact that he and Luke would play this song so often, he probably wouldn't have remembered these notes at all. His strumming stops when he hears that singing, turning around to see Luke with a small, warm smile that he usually keeps reserved. It feels real good to hear Luke's singing voice again - not only because Nick thinks he's ten times better at it, but it's just comforting to hear overall. He motions him to take a seat.]

Figure we both need something like this. [He gestures at the guitar though he's referring to more than just that. For all it's worth, being stuck here at least allows them to have moments like this. Looking up from the guitar, he cants his head at the bag.] Whatcha got there?

[burningdaylight]

[Nick couldn’t be more right. That guitar is a sight for sore eyes, a half-forgotten pleasure, and he can feel his spirits already lifting some with everything it represents.]

Beer an’ apples...! [He announces, huffing a self-deprecating laugh as he eases himself down beside Nick. The bag crinkles when he reaches in, holding out a can. He hasn't any idea if this Capitol-supplied brand is to their tastes but there's really only one way to find out.]

That’s about all that goes down an’ stays down for me these days. Figured we're in the same boat an' all, naturally.

[fuckitall]

[Nick chuckles a little at that and takes the beer. The stuff the bar has on tap isn't so bad but he has yet to have had the can. The food and drink combination makes the memories of them strumming their guitars and eating godawful unhealthy snacks together resurface again and appearing less faded.]

Here, man. [He holds the guitar out and towards Luke.] Your turn to shine. [For the sake of remembering the times before things went to shit - the memories that Nick holds as the closest thing to home he'll ever have.]

[a_minute_younger]

The latest song ends and Gary appears almost immediately thereafter, coming around the corner of one of the island gardens. Contrary to popular belief, standing on the paths is not the best way to get around--the teen is balancing rather precariously on the railing surrounding the trees. If he's having any trouble with this, he's not showing it. Or perhaps the music has distracted him enough not to pay attention.

"Hey there!" Gary calls with a friendly, excited wave. "What else can you guys play?"

[burningdaylight]

Luke lifts his head, catching the wave and answering it with an easy smile. He might not have expected to draw any sort of audience when he had sat down with Nick but he quietly welcomes anyone looking for reprieve, for anyone hoping the warm, mellow sounds teased from the guitar can smooth over their frayed nerves, at least for a little while.

It’s the distraction he himself had desperately needed, something other than restless mental note-taking in his attempts to form a plan and agonizing over Clem and Beth keeping him busy. And he feels human again, or close to it, trying to remember a time when they could afford to do this. When they had the luxury of time to focus on something other than survival or hard labour and could make music, could allow their voices to rise above a whisper and not fear the walkers groaning and shuffling just beyond the walls of their latest shelter. Danger of a different sort lurks around the corner.

He’s strumming something soft, something improvised while considering Gary’s question.

“...How 'bout Stairway to Heaven?” He suggests chucklingly. “A'right, a'right, pretty much everyone an’ their mothers knows that one. Some Aerosmith, Tom Petty, iunno, a bunch a' songs here an' there. Then there's Hallelujah –- that was Cohen, right?” He looks to Nick. "...Used to play that one all the time."

The girls had loved it.

"Don' really remember all the lyrics, though. It's, uh... it's been a while."

[fuckitall]

Nick scratches the back of his head. He's not used to performing in front of an audience of any size that isn't just with Luke. Well, not sober anyway. He pops one of the beer cans Luke brought up with him and takes a drink. As he recalls songs by the artists Luke lists, he finds himself feeling grateful that he hasn't forgotten them. Some of the song titles elude him while the melodies and lyrics remain.

"You don't?" But his tone isn't accusatory by any means. It just has him surprised, given how often he had seen Luke play that while girls sit down and listen. It's what he has since associated with that song. He figures once they start playing, the words'll come back to Luke, but he looks at the guy that just came in first. "You got any preferences?"

[a_minute_younger]

Gary mouths the words 'Stairway to Heaven' moments before the same words come out of Luke's mouth. He is simultaneously tickled and disappointed by this.

"Something quick," he says, dropping to a sit on the railing so he can swing his legs. "You know--something with a little pep to it! We're all here, having a good time; might as well have a little fun with it, right?"

Gary's life has not been nearly so turbulent as the lives of these two gentlemen, but he's no less eager to forget some recent events. Attacking his friends in the Mini-Arena, dying by their hands--the whole environment's been dreary as all hell and Gary hates it. This is more fun than he's seen anyone have just hanging around the Training Center for days now, and he wants to bask in it for as long as possible.

[schnapp]

Beth has more cookies than she knows what to do with. Okay, there's a chance she went a little overboard with the whole stress baking thing after the mini arena, but the idea of throwing anything away is so abhorrent to her even in the face of the capitol's excess. So she heads up to the roof, because she's never been before and she's heard that people sometimes stay up there. People that might eat cookies.

It's the sound of a guitar that catches her attention, and the realization that it's been so long since she's heard a guitar, or even a record. The only music she's had for so long is the sound of her own voice. She knows the song, too. And even though she's still beat to hell after the arena, still bruised and battered, the sound of it makes her happy. Makes her approach, humming the melody as she goes in a sweet, clear voice.

She tries to smile. Jury's still out on how much it works. "I made a lot of these. Did you want any? They're my mama's recipe," she mentions, holding out the container of still-warm chocolate chip cookies.

[burningdaylight]

Luke isn’t sure who’s humming along and his conversation with Nick peters out as he turns his head to look, brows gently raised. And then he sees her, sees the frail, guileless little smile on her lips, and her voice hits him like a punch square to the gut, fresh waves of guilt crashing over him. Choking him. His wide-eyed expression settles into something wearier, sorrier. She’s in one piece. Physically, at least. But the arena is bound to have taken its toll on her in less visible ways, there’s no way it couldn’t have.

He wills a smile for her after a beat, the both of them trying, trying so hard while the truth hangs heavily in the air between them. Everyone has their way of coping, he thinks, as he considers the container in her hands. He can’t think of many people whose strategies are half as productive.

“S’been so long, think I forgot what one a’ these taste like.” And it isn’t only politesse and respect that has him reaching and picking one out. It smells heavenly, warm and soft in his hand, conjuring memories of cookie jar pilfering attempts and feeling disapproving mom-eyes on the back of his head. He takes a bite and it tastes like gold, only a touch too sweet for his unaccustomed tastebuds. A crumb escapes his mouth as he tries to talk too soon and he instinctively tries to catch it in his cupped palm. He misses, though, and can practically hear his mom scolding his poor manners, her voice so deeply engrained in memory.

“Shit, sorry.” He offers, grinning apologetically.

[fuckitall]

Nick stops tapping against the arm of the chair when he hears the humming, the voice sounding familiar. He doesn't know Beth too well, but he has learned enough to feel glad to see her okay - and okay enough to have baked cookies apparently. He knows a forced smile when he sees one though and gives her props for having the strength to keep going. It's something he knows he ought to learn from.

The smell of the fresh cookies is warm and inviting. Nick rarely had homemade sweets unless it was a holiday and it was during those occasions where he would go out of his way to stash some for later. "Thanks, Beth." He says with a warm smile before snorting at Luke. Cookies are irresistible no matter how old you are. "Sorry about my friend here," he then musters the best nagging voice he can as he continues. "This boy don't got any manners."

Says the asshole who just spoke with half a cookie in his mouth. At least he didn't spill.

[schnapp]

After you've seen Daryl Dixon scoop jam into his mouth with dirty hands, a couple of cookie crumbs is nothing. And besides, it's kind of funny. Enough to eke out a smile from her - one that isn't quite so forced. One that reaches her eyes this time. There's something apparently, about how just the act of smiling helps to make you feel better. Might as well give it a try, right?

There's nothing else she can do, anyway.

"Can't remember the last time I heard a guitar," and it's a little sad and wistful, the way she says that. For someone who loved music as much as she does, the lack of it in their world is a terrible shame. "You know any Tom Waits?"

[gobananas]

Marco's not the type to appreciate the grandeur of skylines anymore, not now that he knows what it's like to fly. Even the most glorious sunset seems bland and fuzzy when you're looking at it with human eyes and your feet on the ground. Not for the first time today, he feels a pang of resentment at the Yeerks - and now at the Capitolites, too - for making morphing for fun a stupid idea, because he can't imagine anything nicer than to sprout feathers from his skinny human arms and coast on the rising thermals above the city. When he sits there at the edge of the roof, all half-grown teenager and dark eyes, he doesn't seem to find much peace out here.

He stays for a few minutes before he gets up to check out the two guys sitting at the other horizon and filling the air with homemade radio. Sound doesn't travel well out here, and the Tom Petty lyrics dissipate over the city.

Marco figures that there are less threatening things than playing music out here, so he saunters up. At least they aren't playing the theme from Deliverance.

"Play some Green Day!"

[burningdaylight]

He turns his head, taking in the newcomer with a mild, non-judgmental look before offering him a faint smile and a fainter nod by way of greeting. Another soul to soothe, it looks like, and he isn’t opposed to extra company in the least. Music is best when shared.

“Green Day, huh?” Brows lightly raised, he flicks a glance Nick’s way mutely asking if he’s better able to take the request. He lifts a hand from the neck of the guitar to scratch at his stubbled jaw. “Think I ‘member a couple songs off the top a’ my head.” Then he’s glancing thoughtfully at his fingers for a long moment, quiet while he digs deep into his memory and slowly, experimentally plucks out the beginnings of ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends’. Hard to forget something that had played at the funeral of a classmate he had felt strongly for and he had listened to long afterwards whenever he was out on the road in his old man’s pick-up in the small hours of the morning, letting it wash over him until he was all cried out and exhausted enough to find sleep.

Not the finest song for their little gathering, perhaps. Which is why he doesn't sing to it, or not yet at least, his gaze hooded and thoughtful.

[fuckitall]

Green Day's music practically represented every kid in high school and Nick was no exception. His own taste had since branched out but he occasionally would go back to listening to them. Folks would complain about how overplayed 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' was on the radio but Nick would find himself skipping the song for a different reason. Knowing Luke, he wouldn't. He remembered that funeral and not being able to do much but be there to keep his hand on his friend's shoulder while her coffin was being lowered into the ground.

That was a long time ago too - but the song makes Nick think of their more recent losses. If it was just the two of them, he'd let Luke continue but continuing would also mean letting out a lot of emotional baggage that this kid doesn't need to know about.

"Hey, uh - you got another song in mind? This one - y'know, it's been kinda...repetitive." He looks at Marco and makes sure that only he sees the pleading look Nick's giving him as Luke plays the song. "We've heard that one enough."

[smarterthanthem]

The roof is always a good place to look for people after something bad has gone down. The roof is an escape, a safe place -- or at least it provides the illusion of one for the caged tributes. Either way it's peaceful and open, way better than being locked up inside.

Clementine's come up here enough herself in similar circumstances so it doesn't surprise her to find Luke and Nick up here together, what does surprise her is what they're doing.

"I didn't know you could play guitar." she says, fiddling with her sleeve as she stands behind them. Clem looks a little worse for wear after her ordeal but hey, at least she didn't die this time, she counts that as a win.

[burningdaylight]

Luke falters mid-conversation with Nick and glances back, welcoming her with a nod and a soft smile that comes with some semblance of ease only because he had sought her out as soon as kids had come trickling in from the mini-arena and had found her among them, alive. Still, it’s no easier to see her all scuffed up like this and his face says more on the matter than he could ever find the right words for, the shadows around his smile-crinkled eyes speaking of restless nights.

“Well, y’never asked.” He teases, letting the guitar rest over his lap. She seems timid and unsure and he opens an arm inviting her to sit by them – and to steal a hug, if she’d like. The choice is hers, always. “Got some cookies if you’re hungry."

Chocolate chip, too.

[fuckitall]

Nick turns also and gives her a smile, a resigned one but relieved all the same. "Hey, Clem." He remembers what she told him about how the deaths in the arena work, that they'd come back - and not as a walker - anyway. He opts out of asking her about what had happened, but tells himself that it doesn't matter now that she's here with them.

"They're pretty good too. Here." He holds the box out to her which reminds him of the last time he handed her something to try. Luke doesn't need to know that he had let her try moonshine before (neither does Clem actually).

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate is a painter. He's a troll of prose and poetry. But even though he already has his take in all these things, nothing quite calls in that particular way like the sound of melody.

It's a draw of good things, things done whole of soul and heart. It has Messiahs makings all upon it and so to does it bring him back to days of youth. Back when it was but him and another young boy, when the Initiate could still sing and they could do so together.

The only thing what's missing is the stars above. He hates that the Capitol's locked them in for all the times he could see the stars.

Today the stylists have dressed him in something not all unlike the robes of a Mirthful preacher, and he tugs the gold lined indigo around him as he makes to approach. It's impossible for him to pass unnoticed (being seven feet tall, with horns waving, and then not counting his natural appearance) but in this case, he tries not breach a space in which he might be unwanted. Although moving closer could offer him sound, they may also stop. He'd rather hear it continue, even if he had to stay distant from it.

[fuckitall]

Nick's leaning back against his chair while listening to Luke perform Mary Jane's Last Dance again, nodding his head off while staring straight at the forcefield out there. They're in cage, a gilded one at that. The only thing keeping Nick's spirit up is just hearing Luke sing along to the song. He sits up to join in at the chorus, singing a little more quietly for it to be enough to back Luke up without taking him over.

Last dance with Mary Jane,
one more time to kill the pain

He keeps his eyes closed in order to concentrate on anything but the forcefield and doesn't take notice of the Initiate just yet. He'd have stopped singing along otherwise.

[burningdaylight]

"I feel summer creepin' in an’ I'm tired of this town again…"

It’s the last repeat of the chorus that leads into a solo he can’t do justice, so the song ends sooner than he’d like – like a radio edit - and he sits there basking in the glow of togetherness and nostalgia rolling over him in waves. He doesn’t notice Initiate, not until the last chord fades into silence and he thinks to turn his head to see who might be in the process of joining them. But once he does he’s glancing just a beat longer than could be considered polite at this absurdly tall fellow wrapped in a robe straight out of a costume party or theatre production – and he can’t help but wonder if this might be one of those aliens Mindy spoke of.

“Hey there.” Luke tries, cautious but not unfriendly. “You here for the music or the view?” The view of the Capitol skyline, that is.