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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?”
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Jean is quite concerned that some of their plans might cost money. They're also used to the idea that a decent weapon costs as much as rent, which is just, plainly not true here but they haven't even checked.
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...Extremely pained sympathy. The kind of expression a person gets when someone else names a pain identical to their own, one which said person would never have dared to say out loud, and is, perhaps, shocked to hear leave anyone else's lips.
"Yeah, hahaha...weather too, that uh, that weather!"
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Jean trails off awkwardly. Trailing. Trailing.
"...You know...indoors..."
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Jean's voice and face falls. Their eyes drift down to their plate. "...Something went...wrong, at the end. I don't understand what, above my pay grade, ha...but it went...wrong. And we all ended up at the Library, where the old job used to be. It just. Exploded, and then there was the Library, and we couldn't leave. Our bodies were made of this, this Light, and the Light couldn't leave the Library. Madam Director Angela was working on that! And I helped! But...hahaha, ha...no weather in the Library. That's. Bad for the books."
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This poor creature needs communism
Cannot stress enough that this is being said as if it's a completely normal job description.
Grace: damn, you live like this?
THEY SURE DO
The author would like to note here that Jean is suffering from a severe lack of information, the circumstances of those Invitations was in fact hideously predatory and this is, indeed, a plot point for their canon.
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Wrap?
They're about to scuttle off with their half-eaten plate.
Wrap! Poor Jean 😂