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ph_logs2023-07-30 06:11 pm
deepbluerevue) wrote in ph_logs2023-07-30 06:11 pm
Early August Catch-All and Intros
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.
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?”
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?”
no subject
She fully turns in her seat to stare at him. “Where in the hell were you hiding?” she asks, perplexed into bluntness.
no subject
Sticking the smoke into his air inlet, he pulls out the slate and chalk Grace had given him.
tonic, he writes simply.
no subject
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.”
no subject
The other hand he lifts up for her, holding a flicker of flame between thumb and forefinger.
Ironic, perhaps, kneeling to Sofia Lamb's ex-second in command. It's a funny juxtaposition, though. The memory of Sofia telling him to kneel, tinged green, Eleanor's little face staring on in horror.
And here, in the warm filament light of the little tavern eatery. Here, he's choosing to kneel for Grace Holloway, watching her pretty red lipstick transfer onto the white paper of her smoke.
no subject
[Internal thoughts]
Something complicated lurches in Grace’s chest as the Big Daddy lowers himself to a knee, and she firmly tells herself that she’s not afraid.“Thank you kindly, sir,” she says, and leans forward to draw the flame into her cigarette. It’s the perfect finisher to the first proper performance she’s had in who knows how long. Years, for sure. Singing for the Family was nice, but — well.
Grace leans back, considering the tongue of fire between Delta’s fingers as she breathes out a long, controlled stream of smoke. “Didn’t realize you managed to hang on to some EVE.”
no subject
Ignoring them, Delta takes out the slate and chalk he'd tucked under arm and taps the word tonic, still unerased. He's been spending a good chunk of his time in the shallows around the fore of the island: it's more than enough time for the Fountain of Youth to replenish his EVE stores.
no subject
[Internal thoughts]
She bites the inside of her cheek at the sight of her audience eyeing Delta warily. It’s too late to tell him not to approach her at performances. To be frank, she’s probably better off trying to cultivate a sure-thing ally anyway. And she does still owe him. The town’ll have to get used to the Big Daddy eventually, and she hasn’t heard of many other entertainers. She’ll manage.no subject
Delta contemplatively exhales his lungful of nicotine. He erases the slate with the palm of his hand, flipping the chalk between his fingers before writing.
good show
And with that message conveyed, he starts rising back onto his feet, preparing to leave.
no subject
She looks up as Delta shifts up from the floor. “Going so soon?” she asks. “Don’t tell me you signed yourself up for a night shift around here.”
no subject
job prep, Delta writes by way of explanation. It's not wholly a lie: he's got equipment to scout out. Nothing he needs to sort out so quickly but it's better than staying and spooking off Grace's audience.
no subject
[Internal thoughts]
She’d nearly started sprinting yesterday when she felt something tickling at the back of her neck. Turned out it was just bugs. Used to be she only ran into critters on trips to Arcadia. Now they’re everywhere. And the wind, she keeps turning around to see if someone’s coming from the air shifting.“I wonder what the mayor set you up with,” she adds, after a moment of quiet. “You’ll be telling me later.”
Wrap?
Delta slides his smoke back into place in his air intake before tucking the chalk and slate away. Grace will probably find out one way or another, but he can't say he doesn't enjoy the promise of meeting her again later.
Giving her a salute, Delta turns to amble off, casually cleaving a path through a spooked couple as he leaves.
Wrap!
“Rude,” she mutters to herself, but it’s not as dismissive as it could be.
Contemplatively, she raises the smoke back to her lips.