Big Debut

Log Info

• Title: Big Debut
• Emitter: Zerthos
• Characters: Zerthos, Aryia, Auranar, Verna
• Place: The TarRaCe
• Time: December 1st, 2022
• Summary: A fantastical pianist finishes their set to a near empty TarRaCe, Zero making his debut in this city. Aryia comes from the bathhouse, somewhat frustrated from the noise, but ends up nearly interrogating him as he harbored some familiarity in her eyes. He's played a bit for the noble houses in otherlands, Aryia recalling them more clearly now just as Auranar and Verna show up. All get acquainted, Zero offering a performance to the ladies for a later time.

GAME: Zerthos rolls Perform/Keyboard: (13)+10: 23

The TarRaCe, evening.

Korday evening at the TarRaCe is either a washout or a packed place in the winter, and this one's no exception. The place is quiet, as it's the first day of the month and there are people who want to spend their hard-earned coin elsewhere this evening...

Well, quiet in terms of patronage. The place is filled with the rhapsody of keys from a piano that's on stage, played in a rather competent manner by the shadow elf man who sits on a tall cushion. It's a lively and energetic tune, for certain, but it's a bit high-brow for the crowd... or lack thereof.

>DUN DUN DUN.< It's a chord that rings out brilliantly, demanding the attention of all who have ears--and that is how the man concludes his performance. He lifts his manicured hands up and looks out at the crowd with red-pink eyes in a confidently dashing grin...

And the polite clap of applause from the few occupied seats in the house seems to please him, as he stands from his seat and gives the audience a great bow. "You've all been terrific," he announces from the stage. "That's all from my repertoire for the evening, Alexandria. I'll be back again next week!"

A nice, quiet day to relax.

Well, for most. Sensitive ears tend to pick up on the most intricate of sounds from quite the distance. Especially those that are elongated.

A dim grey skinned mul'neissa woman steps out of the bathhouse in a black tank top and brown pants, a green jacket held in hand as white locks are still dripping wet. She stares from the back, glowing gaze fixed on the musician. The stare intensifies a step as she reads who is upon the stage, wrapping up.

GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/history: (14)+6: 20

Indeed, the words are plain as day. "Zero, Pianist and Singer Extraordinaire." It's... a bit of a strange name, to say the least, but then again, the man on stage dresses in a rather shiny material that catches the eye.

Speaking of which, Zero descends from the stage with a graceful hop and walks over to the bar. Those tailored pants he's wearing hug the legs so tightly that one has to wonder how he managed it. "Barkeep! Good madame, give me a shot of whatever you gave me last. It was lovely on the palate."

He leans against the counter as he looks around, surveying the people. He doesn't catch sight of Aryia quite yet.

As Zero turns to get his drink, the mul woman skulking in the back has closed the distance, quiet and silent. And when he takes his ponderance-

There's a heavily scarred, gritty, shadow elf right there. Green buckle jacket tied around her waist, leather cords around her arms taut around equally corded muscle. It tenses.

A hand holding a journal rises. Pages open and on display. It reads in a hasty scrawl:

"Who the fuck are you?"

Classy.

The bard /was/ relaxed. Key word: was. Then, of course, Aryia strides up. The sight of the scarred mul woman already wipes the confident grin off Zero's face and replaces it with a somewhat frightened expression, mouth already halfway open as though to shout or plea--

And then he reads the journal. His red-pink eyes lift from the pages to the elf holding them, and... he gulps. Audibly. "Well now," he says, a tad nervously at first. "That depends on who's asking, but I've left my life behind from whence I came. Now, I am Zero, an extraordinary talent for an extraordinary time." The confidence is revived as he declares his persona.

"One fruity-tooty for Zero the extraordinary talent," the barkeep says as she pushes something alcoholic that does, indeed, look quite fruity. Her tone suggests that she is entirely done with this man. Zero, however, doesn't catch it or simply chooses not to, as he takes the glass and politely thanks the woman.

"Perhaps a drink might... Take the edge off things?" he offers, raising his glass a little.

The gritty mul'neissa's glowing gaze flicks from him, to the drink, then back to him. The man's been unsettled. Good. The offer of taking the edge off of things is met with with, perhaps, an amiable down nod as she thumps a fist against the iron bartop.

The metal clangs. And she points off at some bottle. The barkeep fetches her something strong and straight.

The book is pulled back and scribbled into some more. Present. "I'm Aryia. I'm asking." Pen heavier on the last bit.

Zero stares at Aryia for a long moment before he nods and knocks back some of that extraordinarily-fruity drink that the barkeep gave him. He leans against the counter again and looks like he is now /trying/ his best to act casual.

"Alright," he says. "So long as you're not... someone's hired dog. You don't look like you are, anyway." He raises a hand to his finely-kept white hair, scratching it for a moment. "The name is--was--Zerthos. I was a part of the Dinoryn'colyth family."

A spiced rum is placed next to Aryia. And it's scooped up and shot without a single grimace. Brows knit, her watching... listening...-

A grey ear twitches, the other flopping down somewhat as she tilts her head to the side. Shiny eyes unfocus briefly to recall. Blink. Confusion. Recognition. Minor.... respect? Then annoyance. Scribble scribble.

"I am no one's dog. Careful what you say. I think I remember you. Play at some galas? Parties?"

There's a small gust of wind as the door opens and two women enter. One is an elvish woman with long black hair dyed pink at the tips, and skin the color of the bark on most trees. She is talking to the woman at her side as they enter, and pulls down the hood of her heavy fur-lined cloak as they come in. "My grandmother would really like to meet you, and even with the trouble... I'm sure we can go there. The question is though... are you comfortable going?"

The far less impressive entrant is likewise cloaked and hooded against the chill. Her gray hood is doffed after they enter to reveal a complexion only a slightly lighter shade of gray accentuated by shock white brows and hair (as minimal as the latter may be).

Verna's countenance quirks somewhat in a battle of possible concern versus the instinctive smile that emerges as she looks to the other. "I have my concerns, but if you are comfortable, and they feel the same, I would be delighted."

Red-pink eyes read the words that Aryia's written. Zero laughs--but it's a small one. A nervous one, for that matter. "I mean no offense, Aryia," he says. "My apologies. And yes, I did play for both. Usually with my cousins. My siblings were more inclined with a paintbrush, you see." There's something bitter in his voice as he says his siblings /were/, but... the smile remains on his face, and he chases the words down with another drink of his little glass.

His ears catch the sound of the door opening, and he turns towards the women who enter. He looks mildly relieved when he looks at the elvish woman, although the nervousness in his gaze returns again when he spies the gray-skinned woman. "Friends of yours?" he asks as he looks at Aryia, the smile straining just slightly. Just slightly.

Aryia tilts her head to the side, listening and appraising. Another shot is poured in her glass, journal flicking back as the pen flitting across the pages. But it stops halfway, an ear twitching from the conversation that drifts in. She looks over, journal slacking some to show:

"Yes. I remember you. Good that you got out of that mes-"

Her blunt, forward, suspicious and cautious deamanor cracks some as her gaze lands on the two women. She waves towards them, a smile threatening to show on her face as there's a slight nod towards Zero.

Auranar notices Aryia immediately and the wave over garners a bright wave from the elvish woman. She flashes a smile to boot and then looks at Verna. "I'd like to know what's on your mind, but maybe later? It looks like we weren't the only ones that thought a night out sounded nice!" She grabs Verna's hand and veritably pulls the other woman across the room to Aryia. "Hello! Who's your friend?"

A welcoming smile to the unfamiliar face is given.

Verna notes the wave in her peripheral vision and one gloved hand begins to lift to return it. "Of co-" Her other hand is then whisked by Auranarish exuberance to Aryia's vicinity; the rest of Verna as well, given the attachment. "-ourse. Hello, Aryia. It is good to see you." Her free hand now waves slightly before lowering. She then adds to the other, "Your friend, as well."

The mul'niessa man offers a small wave of the hand that is as graceful as it is practiced, an elegant flourish that looks right at home on a man who wears a tunic of what appears to be rather shiny silk. "Good evening, ladies," he says. "I'm afraid you just missed my performance for the evening. I am called Zero. I'm a recent arrival here in Alexandria, and I do believe I'll make this stage my performer's residence for a while yet."

He gestures to the piano that is on the stage. "I play that, and I sing as well," he states. "I'll likely be here or other stages in the city--anywhere that they'll let me perform and I won't be thrown out by the scruff of my silk collar, that is." Zero gives a small, yet playful pout. "I've had to have one tunic repaired because one fellow decided to smash a bottle over my head. Needless to say, I /won't/ be performing at the Ox-Strength again."

Aryia makes a brisk couple of motions. Thumb under the chin. Pat against the chest. Index fingers tap together. "Not my friend." Feels like the gist could be understood for those don't know the motion. <Handspeech>

She lets the man introduce himself, her taking a step towards her friends as she scribbles in her journal once more. Scribble. Present.

"TarRaCe > Ox-Strength"

Simple is.

Simple as the hand-signs are, they're a mystery to Auranar. The confusion on her face makes that clear enough, but she doesn't ask for clarification. She lets the moment pass and hopes that her interpretation of the hand-signs are good enough. The writing at least is clear enough and she offers a grin at that before turning her attention to the self-introduced Zero. "I'm Auranar, and this is Verna." She politely introduces her fiance with a little wave of her hand and then utters a small sound of disappointment. "I'm sorrry we missed your performance, but hopefully we'll get a chance to hear you another time. I love both piano and singing, I've even been known to do the latter on occassion. Just for fun though."

Verna dips her head to Aryia in a slight nod of acknowledgement after listening to Zero's introduction. "I expect the food, clientele, probability of gratuities, and level of safety here all belong to a far higher tier than those at the Ox-Strength." Following Auranar's joint response, she adds, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance..." a glance and smile to Auranar, "though not so pleasant as your singing, love." Her eyes pivot back to the mul'niessan man. "No offense intended."

"Verna and Auranar," Zero echoes, smiling pleasantly. He lifts his small glass with the remainder of his fruity drink, his red-pink eyes twinkling a little. "I'll dedicate the finishing of this drink to Auranar's continued singing. And my continued safety as a performer." A glance is given to Aryia on that last sentence before he downs the rest of the glass and sets it on the counter for the barkeep to collect.

"Now, as for singing--it's true, I am trained to sing in a variety of styles that many powdered noses consider pleasing. I have been described as a songbird. Or a peacock, if they happened to be sufficiently lubricated with liquid courage and found me particularly striking, although I can't say I've ever heard a peacock sing." Zero picks some nonexistent lint off his shoulder. "I am rather glad I'm away from that, although I have... struggled to find an audience that can appreciate the repertoire that I am trained in. I suppose that comes with being a traveling musician, but I /am/ delighted to hear that this place makes a fine stage."

He looks a tad sour for a moment. "That is, when there are more people here," he says. "I don't mind the free drinks, but I am used to a tad bit... more in the way of an adoring crowd?"

Auranar smiles adoringly at Verna, but defers her complement with a shake of her pink and black locks. "I'm not that good at all." She listens aptly as Zero explains that he's been trained to sing in a variety of styles, and she looks positively bespelled by the thought. "That's amazing. I will have to stop in here far more often if you intend to play or sing here. I haven't heard someone perform who was trained in the skill in ages."

She looks around the establishment briefly and then offers a wry smile. "I'm sure that the place will pick up soon enough. If not tonight then another!"

Aryia knocks back another drink, her giving a glance to him and a faint nod. Some more scribbling is done on her journal, and she shows it.

"I'm a great singer."

A flicker of a smile. A joke.

More scribbling. Show.

"I've heard him play before in the past. He's good enough."

Verna echoes Auranar's assurance. "As the season deepens, there shall certainly be more crowded within the various establishments seeking entertainment. Ourselves included. All may not be fully aware of prestige nor pedigree, yet most any would enjoy a pleasant performance." Aryia's written comment prompts a gesture to the mute mul and a quite matter-of-fact agreement. "She is, in fact. I have heard as much, myself."

Zero looks just a bit smug as Aryia backs him up--but then he raises a brow. "Good enough?" he asks with a small amount of umbrage, followed by a sigh and a smile. "I suppose everyone is a critic. I acknowledge that I certainly have a long and far road to walk, but that /was/ a given. Is a given, rather, now that I am here and not elsewhere."

He gives a rather devil-may-care shrug. "However, the dance of death is a thing that comes for all mortals eventually, does it not? There are more than a few arias that I know on the subject. I'd have to run through them again in practice, however--it's been some time, and one has to take care with the high notes unless you /want/ to sound like a cat in heat."

Zero then turns to Auranar and offers her a wide smile. "You, my dear, and your fiance, are always welcome to come along to a performance. Perhaps I will hire on Aryia as a duet partner one day." His eyes twinkle.

Auranar keenly looks at Zero, her smile fading to thoughtfulness. His eyes are merry, but it's hard to tell how serious he's being. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or not. But if you mean it; I'll be glad to hear you perform someday." She turns to Verna and shakes her head. "Dearest, you should stop extolling my virtues before I forget that I can't sing and try."

She laughs lightly. "We should order something to eat. Perhaps take advantage of the baths while we are here." She sighs fondly at the thought of a hot bath, and then grins at Verna. "Unless you want privacy for the latter."

Aryia gives an inquisitive look towards Verna before a flash of understanding crosses her features. She nods, slowly turning a page as she gives a shrug towards Zero.

The page pauses, a brow raised high at the man. Flatly, she writes without looking:

"Just put me in the back with a sheet of music that's blank and I'll do perfect."

Something in the way that Zero mentions his performance offerings makes the mute woman sigh quietly. Then a snort. Scribble and show to Auranar, her pushing back damp hair. "It's pretty dead in the baths. Grab it while you can."

Verna's brow lifts at Zero with the appelation for Auranar. Before any further expression, comment, or possible hand gestures suggesting Aryia might indulge in some practice, however, Auranar laughs and reminds of food and baths. Priorities.

"Yes, we should eat, and a hot bath sounds delightful." Following the caveat, she notes, "Perhaps both? There is no reason we cannot enjoy more than one bath in a given evening."

"No, no, I am serious--as serious as I can stand to be, anyway," Zero adds with a small smirk. "I'd look forward to seeing any of you three in the audience."

He looks in the direction of the baths as they're discussed and nods approvingly. "I have to agree with Verna," he says. "A bath is a thing of luxury at times, and do believe me when I say that. I have found in recent times that the things I took for the everyday mundane were rare and precious things--and may have been entirely fictional to begin with, much like a singer might sing a love song but be in love with no one in particular."

But then he banishes the somber note with a grin. "I assure you, however, all of my love songs are directed at myself. If I do not love myself, after all, then who else in this wild and wooly world will? We cannot all be happy fiancees. Narcissism might be considered to be a fault, but I consider it self-preservation in healthy doses--and, of course, practically required of one who is called a songbird. Or a peacock."

The bard stands more upright and gives the trio assembled a wave. "And with that, I will leave you lovely ladies to your evening. Keep well and don't freeze, although I think all of you would make lovely ice sculptures."

Auranar laughs at Zero's words once again, shaking her head. "I have no intention of freezing. However 'lovely' an ice sculpture I might make." She snorts at this and waves to the bard. "A pleasure to meet you! Goodbye!"

When Verna has made her farewells as well, she nods politely to Aryia. "I think we should hit the bath's first, then get the food. That way our hair can dry and we won't have wet hair in the cold." She smiles. "You're welcome to join us Aryia, for the bath and our meal if you like, but we'd understand if you had other obligations tonight." She smiles here, having not forgotten that Aryia has a special someone, even if that someone is still a mystery to her.

The more Aryia listens to the man, the more her ears start to droop. More lost in the thought. More pensive. It's almost like seeing a new side of her! But, alas, that doesn't last long, as his continued voice drags her back to the present, a more befitting annoyed scowl dons her visage. She scribbles something down. Shows it.

"The more you talk the more I'm remembering."

To that, she rolls her head towards the pink-haired elf, gives a firm nod, then motions for the bottle of rum she's been working on to the barkeep.

Whatever was being remembered must be buried.

-End Scene-