Early August Catch-All and Intros

[deepbluerevue]

Who: Grace Holloway (deepbluerevue) & sundry (You)

What: Grace’s musical performances (ranging from her debut to all the gigs afterward). These will be her introductions to most of the town’s residents!

When: Three days after Grace’s arrival <-> Mid-August

Where: Various venues for live music gigs around town (restaurants, lounges, taverns)

Warning(s): Rapture in the late 1950s into the 1960s was a tough place to live, though Grace is unlikely to bring such things up of her own accord.




PRE-SHOW [Music venue, such as a restaurant, lounge, or the Oak & Iron]

It’s mid-afternoon, and the venue is sparsely populated by customers. Besides the employees, though, there’s a woman in a simple ensemble of a long brown skirt, linen shirt, light brown vest, and tidy women’s boots, the outfit completed by an ill-matching, utilitarian walking cane in her left hand. Her tightly-coiled hair is swept back into an elegant but unadorned chignon, and as she moves from spot to spot in the venue, staring at the performance area at each stop, there’s a growing crease between her curved, pencilled brows, red lips pursed together.

As someone approaches, however, the crease disappears, replaced by a warm smile. “Hello there. You looking for something?”


SHOW + POST-SHOW [Music venue, such as a restaurant, lounge, or the Oak & Iron]

By no means was the live performance flashy. It hardly could be, not when the performer merely walked to the area cleared for her, introduced herself as Grace Holloway, and, after a half-minute or so of casual conversation to match the mood of the audience, sat herself upon a tall wooden stool and, with no accompaniment, began to sing.

At venues such as these, with a newcomer artist such as her, the musician is meant to be background entertainment, and Miss Holloway arranges her set accordingly: her voice is a smooth, well-supported croon, transitioning seamlessly from teasing paeans of good times to wry, melancholy blues of the bad, and back again. The set lasts for a full hour, until most people are done with their meals, and Miss Holloway concludes with a jaunty march, bowing to scattered applause before disappearing into the back halls.

Miss Holloway reappears some fifteen minutes later, a glass of water in her right hand, and seats herself at an empty table. She looks slightly tired, but mostly vibrant — if not happy, then at least content.

Note:

For Grace’s range, think Sheryl Lee Ralph’s voice performing Bessie Smith’s oeuvre. You can find an example on Grace’s journal!

FOR MAYOR POE [Town Hall]

The fourth time Grace Holloway found her way to the Town Hall with business in mind, she discreetly kicked a little bit of wood into the front door jamb to keep it propped open. Fool her twice, shame on her. Though whatever power locked her in likely wouldn’t be much incommoded by a little thing like that, it made her feel slightly better to take some precaution.

The mayor’s office door was slightly cracked, and Grace knocked lightly on the frame. “Excuse me, Mayor Poe? Would you happen to have a minute?”

Comments

Post Show - Smokes

[daddy_topside]

Delta has the prescience to guess that his appearance at venues would scare off the audience.

So he doesn't appear. Not until the end of the show, not until Grace is sat down for her post-performance rest, stepping out of the visually sheltered corner he'd chosen, shimmering into visibility. He keeps his footsteps light, although Grace would still be able to tell it's him by the way the wood flooring creaks under his weight.

A large, armored hand sets down a pack of cigarettes next to her in offering.

[deepbluerevue]

While Grace does hear someone coming, she certainly isn’t expecting it to be Delta’s hand that appears.

She fully turns in her seat to stare at him. “Where in the hell were you hiding?” she asks, perplexed into bluntness.

[daddy_topside]

Pausing in the middle of lighting his own smoke, Delta peers down at her. He's still standing, of course, because even though he is small for a big daddy, he's got no interest in testing out the maximum weight capacity of the chairs here.

Sticking the smoke into his air inlet, he pulls out the slate and chalk Grace had given him.

tonic, he writes simply.

[deepbluerevue]

Grace purses her lips, but the corners are tugging upwards slightly. “Hm. Should have guessed.”

She picks up the box and taps a smoke out with a practiced motion. “Take a knee, sir. If I keep staring upward much longer, I’m going to hurt my neck.”

[pumpkinhollow]

Hellen's deep brown eyes lifted from the legal document she was reviewing hastily before she registered the identity of her guest and sat upright to speak to her properly. She set the papers aside and folded her hands on her desk. "Ms. Holloway," she remarked with a tired smile. "Of course. Please come in, have a seat."

[deepbluerevue]

“If you’re busy, it’d be no trouble to wait,” Grace reiterated, even as she maneuvered her way into the office. “Just some questions about organizing performances, some things like that.” Her makeup was a light touch, but she’d clearly put some effort into looking professional.

[pumpkinhollow]

"I'm always busy," she answered honestly, her smile becoming apologetic. "If I turned people away because I was in the middle of something, I daresay I'd never speak to anyone. But it's nothing that can't wait a few minutes."

[deepbluerevue]

“I’ll keep it fast as I can, then,” Grace said, lowering herself into the chair across from the mayor with a practiced coaxing of her knee. “I really got to thank you for having performance appearances already set up. I mostly wanted to ask about how I might go about promoting them.” She made a slight ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “If there’s an advertising artist around town, I haven’t seen their work yet.”

Oak & Iron!

[prise_de_fer]

Tucked near the bar Mo'rtajha leans on the counter, lightly swaying to the wandering melody currently being sung. The miqo'te can't help but to move to the music, or rather the energy the woman doing the singing is putting into her songs. The tunes are unfamiliar but still remind her of home, singing with her sisters and mothers out in the dunes.

Her feline ears flick up, tail swishing with excitement as Grace finishes her set. Now's her time to entertain! One of the locals provides a jaunty strummed tune for background as she takes to the cleared space. Every inch of it she uses in some fashion or another, a seemingly bottomless font of energy for her whole allotted time, twisting swishing, twirling and tumbling through an improvised dance to match the music at its every twist and turn.

After taking her bow, Mo'rtajha scans the crowd and hopes to see Miss Grace still about somewhere. She's a new face in town and the miqo'te wants to at least say hello to a fellow performer!

Oak & Iron greetings!

[deepbluerevue]

Grace’s table is near the side of the room — not in a corner by any means, but well-placed so that she can see most of the goings-on in the tavern while still having a good view of the cleared floor-cum-stage. When Mo’rtajha looks over, Grace smiles and raises her lipstick-stained water glass: the congenial salute of one performer to another.

[prise_de_fer]

Mo'rtajha grins brightly, flashes a set of pearl-white fangs before she flits over to the woman's table. her feline ears swivel forward with keen and obvious interest, echoed in the swishing of her tail.

"Madame Grrrrace, your voice is utterly divine!" The miqo'te woman rolls her r's in an over-exaggerated way as she claps her hands together with delight. "I haven't heard anything like that music before! Tell me, is it from whence you hail?"

[deepbluerevue]

“Thank you very kindly, young lady. And it’s from here and there,” Grace says agreeably, eyes flicking briefly to the other performer’s ears before dropping back down to her face, “but I suppose around here you might mean that in a broader sense, hah.” She shrugs, just a little coy. “Straight blues was going out of style even when I was a young thing, but I always had a taste for it.”

“And you’re Miss Mo’rtajha, right?” The name rolls off of Grace’s tongue with an ease that’s perhaps surprising. Could she have practiced ahead of time? “I’ve never seen dancing quite like that before, either.” She smiles. “Damn good improvisation. You must’ve been dancing for a while.”

Oak & Iron [After Their First Conversation]

[restingslasherface]

Jean's here! They can't eat out a lot right now, but the opportunity to see Agent Grace perform was not to be missed, and they figured they could get some work done while they were at it.

Wrong on both counts. Once the music starts, neither the food nor their notes get touched; they listen, enraptured. The musical style isn't completely strange, reminding Jean of things they've heard before, but it's different enough that they can't take their eyes off the stage.

Their food, untouched, is cold by the time the spell over them is broken. Possibly notable as well is that somewhere along the line this tiny nugget picked up the habit of orchestral applause rather than clapping; their boots stomp in that quick, steady rhythm of appreciation.

[deepbluerevue]

Miss Holloway balances her attention seemingly without effort, catching the eye of people in her audience to smile or give a conversational twist of her shoulder for one number, then seeming lost in her own world of song for another. When her gaze crosses the table where Agent Jean sits, food nearly untouched, she graces them with a friendly wink.

After the show, she still heads for her own table, but she gives Agent Jean a nod as she sits down. And, after all, her table has more than one chair.

[restingslasherface]

Thank the god of your choice that Jean can in fact take a hint; they scoop up their food and their notes and very carefully move tables, trying quite hard not to drop anything. Their body language when they sit back down across from Grace might be known to her; Jean hunches a bit over the food, a protective gesture like they're concerned someone else might take it. "That was beautiful, Agent Grace, I - wow! I hadn't realized how much I missed live music either..."

[deepbluerevue]

Grace nods approvingly as they sit. “There’s nothing better for the soul,” she says, with total assurance. She also leans back slightly in her chair, cane leaning securely on the table, emanating the sense that she’s comfortable exactly where she is and has no intention of moving. “I’m glad you could make it to a show.”

[venality]

[He finds himself at this establishment, looking for a drink and a bite to eat. He's only been here a week, but it feels like a lot longer. The bar is full of people, barely a seat empty. He takes himself around the bar, looking for people who are by themselves and don't mind sharing a table.

He finds that he's surprised he likes Pumpkin Hollow so much, he is enjoying his time appretancing as a black smith. He also fishes now and again to make an extra buck. It's been a nice life so far, at least better than what he would have had back home.

He finds a woman, regal and dark skinned by herself. She seems pretty but a bit older. Ah, she was the woman who had been performing. He had watched her from the doorway, partly interested. She had a nice voice, carried and raspy. At least it sounded that way to him.

He approached quietly.] Mind If I sit here?

[deepbluerevue]

At the words, Grace looked to the side to see a fairly burly young fellow. “Not at all, sir,” she said politely. Always pays to be courteous to one’s potential audience. He looked a little familiar from the audience earlier, and has the plain clothes of a new arrival, so… “I do hope you enjoyed the show. I like to think it’s a good way to take your mind off of troubles, if you don’t mind me saying.”

[venality]

"Thanks." He took a seat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up with a red zippo lighter and keeping the smoke away from the woman.

"I did. Your voice kinda sooths away troubles from the mind. I'm sure you've heard that before."

Oak & Iron - Post Show

[deaths_head]

Not long after her set, a big, pale hand with long fingers sets a glass at her elbow--perfectly chilled and filled with a golden brown, foamy drink.

"Sarsparilla. Lucked out, they keep some on hand here." The Shade explains in his warm drawl, moving around to the other chair at her table. "My way of sayin' you put on a hell of a show, ma'am."

Little bit of an understatement, that--rock 'n roll and the blues are a bit after his time, but hell if the spirit of those tunes don't call to him in a strange and lovely way that made his chest ache when she sang...

"My name's Joe, mind if I join you?"

[deepbluerevue]

Grace looks up from the glass to the tall-faced man and smiles in welcome. “Mister Joe,” she says, rolling her fingers open in a gesture towards the chair. “For a cold drink and a compliment after a long show, you can sit wherever you like.”

She takes a measured sip of the foamy soda, and a more unguarded smile tugs at her lips as the cold, bittersweet taste flows and sparkles across her tongue. How long’s it been since she had real sarsaparilla? Years, for sure, but how many?

[deaths_head]

The Shade nods his head in thanks, folding his massive body into the chair across from her--and smiles just a little at the way she savors her first sip of soda.

"Good, ain't it?" he chuckles, nostalgic warmth in his features. "First sip I had when I got here--boy, I tell you what, 'bout fell over I was so happy."

The word feels stilted on his tongue--but it fits that bright feeling in his chest when he thinks of it.

"Best drink I had. Ever." he sighs with a flat out grin. "Never did appreciate the little things my first time 'round--but lookit me, you'd think I was on the clock the way I'm talkin'. Mind if I ask where you're from? Guessin' you ain't local singin' songs like that."

Pre-Show

[skeletonkeay]

Gerard had been leaning against a wall, smoking quietly and generally people watching when he caught sight of the woman staring up at the stage. He ended up staring at her much longer than he ought to have, and of course, was noticed.

He wasn't sure which embarrassed him more--- being busted, or the fact that she was so nice about it.

"No, I'm not looking for anything," he muttered. "But you seemed to be."

[deepbluerevue]

The woman blinked for a moment, then glanced back at the stage area and let out a snort. “Suppose I was,” she sighed. She turned back around and took in the pale young man, with his newcomer linens and long black hair. Her expression warmed into something softer. “Are you here for the performance later? I’m embarrassed to say I was just wasting time checking the audience angles.”

[skeletonkeay]

He nodded slightly. "I'm staying in the rooms upstairs," he said. "Saw the advert. Thought it sounded nice. You the singer, then?"