closed | jam session.

[cozen]

WHO: Ellie, Tony, Byerly, Bastien
WHAT: A recording session
WHEN: Vaguely now
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: As planned and promised.

Comments

[notathreat]

This is one that Ellie knows. It's been picked out on a six-string so many times on the back porch next to her garage that it stings, aches through her. Cool autumn nights, swallowing the quiet rumbles of a familiar voice, while the chords came through clear and sweet.

It's soft, loving, and maybe Ellie imagines the heartbreak wrapped up in the words along with the promise.

Darling, so it goes.

Discreetly, she reaches up, wipes her nose with her sleeve.

[bouchonne]

Byerly, meanwhile, is sprawled back in his seat - and as he listens, he grins at the sheer audacity of the song. The intimacy of it is absurd. Because, indeed, when there are those love songs, they're all about my mistress' eyes and all that; none of this awkward rawness.

"This," Byerly murmurs to Bastien, "is the horniest thing I've ever heard in my life."

(By is, it must be noted, frequently quite a bit less sentimental than his beloved is.)

[propulsion]

It's a good thing Tony doesn't catch that. He'd probably giggle and ruin the vibe too much to even want to redo.

There are, of course, hornier songs provided by earth than a croony beachy love song from sixty years ago, but the stripped back sentimentality of it is not shied away from save that Tony checking his audience only affords fleeting eye contact. Byerly provides a reprieve with shit-eating grin, honestly.

It's a short song. Take my hand, take my whole life too, and the last chorus. Odder arrangement of chords aside, Tony lets the lute do its pretty lute thing right up to the last frilly flourish. And, because he can't help himself,

"Thank you very much," spoken quickly, where the crystal will most certainly pick it up too.