ArchivedLogs:Monster Mash

Monster Mash
Dramatis Personae Lyric, Nick, Paras	2016-03-06 "This school more like H-O-G-W-A-R-T-S then."
Location <XS> Music Room - FL2
Wide and spacious, seating in this soundproofed room comes largely on the sweep of gentle risers that afford the teacher an easy view of all the budding performers, and add another dimension to the acoustics of the room. Instruments of all types are carefully stored around the room, and a grand piano, immaculately upkept, takes the position of prize near the back. In a nod to the eclectic studies of the students, digital mixing equipment and turntables rub shoulders with the classical instruments. Music stands sit in front of most of the seats, and the only windows look out out over the side of the school grounds. The sounds of laughter bubble down the hall, drawing rapidly nearer to the music room together with a rolling rattling -- THUNK. Paras fetches up against the door-jamb with a thump, purple hand curling around it to stop herself. She's dressed in long green kurta over black leggings, a backpack slung over one shoulder and -- roller skates on her feet that PROBABLY she shouldn't be wearing in the hallways. Probably. She's evidently none too skilled on them quite yet, kind of tottering her way into the room once she straightens from the doorway. Caaaaarefully making her way around the chairs to sit down on the piano bench so she can drop her backpack to the floor and take the skates off. 'You'll get better with practice.' Lyric is gliding in behind Paras much more easily. She has a set of hand drums slung around her back; she sets these down on the floor as she takes a seat on a stool, letting her wheeled feet scuff back and forth against the floor. As per usual she is neatly dressed today -- impeccably make-upped, blue and black scarves neatly folded and layered wrapped around her head and neck, black skinny jeans, a silvery-blue blouse. Nick was perched on a stool, tuning his guitar, but lifts his great shaggy head before the girls even come into view. He's wearing a dark green t-shirt upon which a full moon shines down on a castle sprouting from wave-like clouds which pour down into a silver pond amidst winter-bare trees (a small, dilapidated cabin by its shore easily overlooked), and black cargo shorts. His ears swivel left and right, his head cocks curiously as he studies Paras's skates, then Lyric's. He waves, then, setting aside his guitar, picks up a tablet, though he lays it in his lap for the moment and does not yet use it. 'Hi, how you?' he signs, very stiffly, 'I sign not good I, but have this.' Indicating the tablet. 'Maybe help?' 'I sign bad,' Paras signs back -- quite cheerfully. Then: 'I' -- she hesitates, points to her skates, 'bad, too. But fun. In S-A-L-E-M there is place. I fall.' She wiggles her toes once she's shed the skates, tucking one foot up beneath her but then untucking it again promptly. 'How you.' 'Everyone falls lots at first. Then you get back up. Skate more.' Lyric opens up her drum cases, picking the drums out from inside. She slips a cellphone out from her jeans pocket, briefly snapping a photo of herself with one of the drums between her knees before tucking the phone back away. 'Looks like F-U-N!' Nick's fingerspelling is made slightly more awkward by talons--slightly. 'When I small, I try S-K-A-T-E. Ice. Not good.' He looks down at his feet, as much canine as human, which probably made an awkward fit for most skates, to say nothing of the structure of his legs. 'I fine. Happy, classes finish now. I E-M-A-I-L song I wrote. You see?' 'I also happy. Like class but happy. V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N. Maybe go city. Not yet see New York much.' Paras bounces slightly in her chair at this thought. She nods enthusiastically, reaching into her backpack to pull out a folder, slip a couple printed pages out of it and tuck them onto the music stand above the piano keys. 'Your song yes. It have name?' 'I bet B could make you skates,' Lyric considers thoughtfully, 'that work for you. B can make /anything/ you can imagine. Like a wizard!' Her brows furrow at the mention of classes being finished, now, teeth digging down against her lip as she looks briefly down. '... Happy yeah.' Kind of reserved in this. Brighter, though, with: 'You write great.' 'New York I go much, to church and to Jax house. Also /big/ P-A-R-K.' Nick's ears flatten back to emphasize the sheer size of the park in question. 'B have more...better things make. More important.' He scans Paras's printout and nods. 'Thank you! Name, not decide. Maybe...'Hear Me'?' His amber eyes open wide and his ears stand back up straight. 'Oh! We need name, too. B-A-N-D name.' Paras's eyes widen. 'J-A-X house?' She echoes this a little incredulously, looking between both of the others as though confirming this information. 'Teacher, Jax? You go in TEACHER house?' Her brows pull in together. 'I not know... A-L-L-O-W-E-D. That weird? Have to do work there?' The talk of music pulls her away from this line of thought, looking back to the sheet music on the piano. 'Something M-O-N-S-T-E-R-Y?' 'B is making a working Quidditch set.' Lyric's nose crinkles up with the wideness of her grin. 'Probably wolf-skates would fit right in.' Her smile fades at Paras's question, though, a small frown briefly crossing her face. She just shrugs, though. 'I go talk to my old advisor. She's great.' Her fingers tap lightly against the skin of her drum. 'Probably we can't be Monster Mash. Cryptid Crush.' 'It's not /his/ house, but...yes.' Nick's mouth quirks slighty, not quite a smile--not quite any human expression, really. 'Teacher Jax. He nice. Not need work but, I do sometimes.' He squints to follow Lyric's signing. 'Your advisor?' he copies. 'Who?' Then with a clear, toothy smile, 'Cryptid Crush...maybe! Or maybe...And Others? Among Others...' Paras's eyes dart back to Lyric, then Nick again, brow furrowing deeper. 'Weird.' Her smile widens, though: 'Q-U-I-D-D-I-T-C-H? Really? REALLY?' She gives a small shake of her head, laughing. 'This school more like H-O-G-W-A-R-T-S then. -- I no help.' Apologetically, she shrugs. 'Like all those name. Not good at name.' 'Isra. Used to work here but she was fired.' For a moment Lyric has a scowl at this, but it vanishes, too. More pensive: 'Among Others. I like.' Nick finally catches the name of the sport when Paras spells it out. 'With actual flying brooms?' His expression doesn't actually look all that surprised, though. 'I think, H-O-G-W-A-R-T-S not like me much.' He gestures at--all of himself, not looking overly put out, either. 'I meet Isra, before. She live with Jax, I think.' He cocks his head, then nods. 'If you like all of them, that's three votes for Among Others.' He flips open a composition notebook on the music stand beside him and scribbles something down. 'Flying broom sound D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S would school A-L-L-O-W?' But Paras look excited all the same. 'Why fired?' And after this, gesturing to the piano keys, 'We practice now?' 'I don't think this school would allow anything that's too much fun,' Lyric opines after a moment, 'and they don't have any special love for B /ever/ but specially not after the graduation speech B gave.' Shrug. 'So maybe not going to bring in any Quidditch toys soon. But you can play outside school.' The question of firing Isra just puts a deeper frown on her face. 'We should practice.'