RP:Familiar Place

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Through the streets, plays a tune. One of heart wrench. One of memories. Penelope goes into a post-traumatic state and the bard pulls her out of it. Alex, observant, and not at all dumb, begins to try to reveal why Penelope is so... in a "rattle".

Cenril

Somewhere in the Streets

The day was still young as the mid-afternoon sun beat down on the beach faring citizens of Cenril. The streets bustling with life as criers shouted their advertisments and passersby mimiced conversation and laughter. In the midst of the chaos, a lonely tune could be heard crying out in the distance. Following the heartfelt lullaby would lead to a tall human dressed in all black with a violin tucked beneath his chin and his arm working feverishly to draw the bow to and fro across the strings. His jet black hair held back with two similarly colored rose-hair clips and his bright blue eyes occasionally darting up to lock stares with onlookers before dropping back to the floor.

Penelope had been walking and reading. Killing two birds with one stone. She needed to return to Sage, yet she had studying to do. Fingers glide through pages. Multiple. Briskly. Moss eyes scanning over words that had nothing to do what she needed to know. Perhaps it was hopeless. Perhaps she would have to face the obstacles that were to come. She was under great stress. "C'mon dammit," there was a frustrated exhale with that Ardelian accent before she closes the book. The crowd was full sea today. Too many people brushing through which normally never dug under her skin. Not until... recently. With the post-traumatic stress. Was the city becoming something foreign? Like all the rest of the people around her? The healer’s position is motionless through the crowd now, and a faint song lingers in her ears. One of heart wrench. Lullaby. Through the mass waves of people, stands a girl who somehow appears in front of a taller man. The look in Nel’s eyes, while she stares, is one of hollow emptiness and tired ringlets. In Nel’s imagination, however, would be a different figure—not the original tall man who was playing the tune. It was a figure that was distorted playing a violin with blue eyes that matched someone else’s. There, Penelope Halifax, was slipping into an episode of horror that only she could see. One of public, and the first one she has had offered to the public. Normally, they were in the dark. Thanks, post-traumatic stress. You are the bomb. Literally.

Alex sometimes finds it hard to focus on the crowd around him. As vein as it may seem, he so often becomes engrossed in his own performance and the world around him dissipates in favor of his melody - but today would be a different story. He wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there when he managed to bring his bright gaze to meet her own darker one, but immediately the sensation in his stomach informed him that something was catastophically wrong. It wasn't forced, the atmosphere didn't shift and the crowd around him didn't seem to care as his lips parted and the hum of the violin was suddenly met with the harmony of angelic vocals. "Across the sea, beyond the end. Comes a place, for those who've sinned. Guilty with burden, stricken by fear. A place to elate you, my frightened dear." The lyrics drawn out to match to pace his instrument, all the while his gaze never breaks from Penelope's. A soothing aura reaching out to captivate the girl and pull her back to reality with the power of his enchanted voice, an innate gift to directly influence the emotions of those around him without their knowledge, or more concerning, consent. The bard was unblinking but his expression and appearance remained soft as he remedied the claustrophobia by acting as if only he and her were present, giving the illusion that everyone else had simply faded away.

There was an itch as the melody continues. She sees blonde tendrils. A morphed face. The metallic-armed elf. Her hand twitches as it moves towards… a blade in her waistband. ‘He killed you, he is back…’ is all that her mind can gather. Sort. Around her, she felt agony. When the bard looks at her, she looks put together except for those eyes. Well-dressed. A pair of heels, a pair of plain denim, and a purple bohemian blouse with flowy sleeves. An innocent, freckled, olive face. The human looked utterly normal despite the gaze she held. ‘Across the sea, beyond the end’ around her… she had felt like she had been hearing screams, yet there was nothing. Just ordinary people walking by. ‘Comes a place, for those who’ve sinned… a place to elate you, my frightened dear.’ The angelic voice sends a cast of lightness around the girl. One of comfort. Stability. The shrieking people begin to vanish. “No, no,” she finally mutters as the people disappear around her and she pivots to stare around her. He killed them, or did she? Both. It had to be. Her hands inch away from the blade and move to clutch frizzy hair. People walk by and stare at her. Some think they recognize her, but they cannot pinpoint where from, so they do not question. Doe, green eyes look towards the face and she would finally find that the distorted face disappears into… the bard’s original face--Alex. The distorted elf is gone. Air is sharply sucked in from panic as green eyes dart around her in her form of reality. Like she was awakened from a nightmare. So much for a sunny day, amiright? A hand searches for her chest where a scar lingers on her collarbone. The healer was out of breath, yet her eyes find reality. A stare of confusion, regret, and… what was the third emotion? Feet would stride to a nearby bench to steady herself on by sitting while she envelopes within the music that lingers in the air.

The bard doesn't break from his performance as Penelope flirts on the edge of a full blown panic attack. The young woman's eyes betray her otherwise mellow demeanor and his bright blues spot the idle hand lingering near the dagger, but when she resists the pull and reaches up to touch her locks he knows that the soothing song is doing it's job. She scurries to the bench and Alex continues to stare at her with a faint glow around his iris' as mana channels into his voice, the lyrics turning into soft hum to aid in pulling her back from the ledge further - the song likely to envelope her in feeling of calm and comfort. This cherade continues for a minute, maybe two, before he finally brings the tune to a close and the abrupt applause that erupts around him forces the bard to snap back to reality as he jerks his neck in surprise and forces a smile to those around him. "Thank you, thank you all. I'm going to take a short break, but if you need more tunes to uplift your spirit, feel free to standby." He nods to the crowd as some begin to disperse and others go on conversing until his return. He packs the violin into it's case and closes the lid, locking the latches on either side before straighting out his tank top and shorts that had become wrinkled in his performance stance. Then, without much hesitation, Alex crosses the intersection and claims the vacant spot beside Penelope, "Alex. Formerly Bard of Frostmaw and Professor of the Bard's College, currently a man with a knack for striking up conversation with interesting looking people, and based on everyone else in this city, I'd say you're the one I'm looking for." He turns his head to face the girl and offers a warm smile, "Name?" he asks a bit bluntly, as if he had any other way.

Penelope keeps a hand gripped on the bottom of the bench that she rests on, and one still fiddling with that scar in a nervous fidget. The calm glazes her, and the people return to her vision. They are okay. Everyone is okay. The clapping for the bard is in the faint background, for her head is clouded to hear the audience any louder. Her hand loosens from her chest and reaches for the book that she had once set on the bench. She flips it open to gaze at the text from a side-view before… the musician sits next to her. It was not surprise, after all, she was a doctor, and the Ardelian would act in the same mannerism as any outsider. The introductive mannerism earns him a stare. One of doe, one of awkward taint, yet one of steadiness—grace. How she managed to pull that off would be a mystery, and a whiplash of emotion for some to wrap their head around. “Interesting,” her tone is momentarily distant. “Such a taste in words. I would say negative, but I don’t think you have ill intent,” she was observant, and a literature enthusiast. The smile is warm which earns him a twitch in her own pale lips, yet that awkwardness still lingers on her face. “Alex,” a musician, an instructor. There is a beat before she gives in because… her name was no secret to most. “Penelope Halifax, Healer of Kelay,” a very well-known physician if one was familiar with Kelay-Sage. “Nel, even. If you wanna cut the titles," she was also blunt. Moss eyes take a moment to take him in as if she was still unsure about his figure. Once she realizes that he is steady--so far--she blinks. “Nice music. You consider therapeutics?” there is a crack of a smile. Well, there was one place to start.

Alex finds his head tilting to the right in a moment of perplexion and admiration at the demeanor of the woman sitting beside him. Her response was direct and blunt but the reflection of her eyes cast a ballad of chaotic emotion in such a brief period - there was something quite unique about this one, and he was eager to discover what it was. "Well, Nel... If there is any ill intent, I'm afraid I'm not aware of it yet. Though the future does have a funny way of twisting itself into a mess every once in a while, so I'll just go ahead and apologize for any mishaps we may have down the road." A smirk tugs at his lips, but it's one that indicates jest rather than malice. "Healer of Kelay, huh? I wish I'd have met you sooner. I've been in pretty crappy situations out that way more than once and the doctors back in Gamorg don't have the softest touch." He tilts his head back to observe the bright blue sky to give himself some time to ponder her question before coming back to Earth with a soft shake of the head, "No, I'm afraid that's never crossed my mind. I'm a bit too selfish to focus on helping others, I'm afraid." a half-lie, though he wasn't aware of it. "Though I appreciate the compliment. What made you stop and listen? Well, the music obviously." He answers himself, "I guess I should ask, what made you look like a rabbit staring at the gaping maw of a hungry wolf?" Another blunt direction, this time an eyebrow lofting in coordinance with the question. Alex wasn't one to shy away from awkward or tough conversation.

Penelope cannot help but smirk at his statement, but only that. Apologize down the road. Like there would be more bump-ins. Then again, coincidences always seemed to sweep her away. Her nose sort of crinkles. “Oof, Gamorg. They’re pretty aggressive, but they get the job done. I idolize the brutality to just get it over with, rather than prep-time warning for a patient.” It was true. Penelope was more soothing to the ears. Easy to make a patient feel like they have known her for quite some time even though she was a stranger to most. While Gamorg, well… it was Gamorg, but they might have some comforting ogres. It was totes possible. A hand closes the book at her side before she slips it back in the satchel at her side. She nods her head patiently while the bard speaks, and the awkwardness begins to cease until he asks her why she stopped to listen. Obviously he had noticed, yet one of the first of the public. The first besides… her brother. Thankfully the man was a stranger. "Are all bards descriptive like you?" She asks because the imagery of his sentence about a rabbit and a wolf, well... whatever she was stalling. “I think you underestimate yourself, first of all,” she begins. A voice like silk, yet straightforward. “I think the correct term is oblivious—not selfish. Then again, you’re a complete stranger, so… I could be throwing darts into air here and just hoping for the best, or maybe you can be an ass, who knows,” there is faint amusement. “Either way your music reminded me of…” she cannot fathom the words now. There is an ache on the scar that was hidden by cloth. On her stomach. “Someone,” eyes become distant. The image of an elf with blue eyes. Eyes that also distorted into black nothing. Demonic evil. Death. Her ex. “Your tune, uh, reminded me of someone. You know, music brings up… memories. Songs do that. After all, you played the song. Must’ve done the same for you, right?” The healer was surface-leveling.

Alex took an odd satisfaction in watching Penelope squirm beneath the weight of his question, pearly whites making a brief appearance alongside a faint chuckle before nodding in agreement with her. "Why yes, I am an oblivious ass. It's quite keen of you to notice so fast, it takes most people three, maybe four minutes to figure it out." Surpressing the urge to force the woman to sing like a song bird he finds the pressure in his throat waning as he opts to keep things legitimate. He skips her 'bards so descriptive' remark, "No, believe it or not, most of my songs don't mean a lick to me. My brain goes into some sort of automatic trot and the words and notes just find their way to the surface." He narrows his eyes a bit to take Penelope in, sizing up not her physical form but instead trying to get a read on her soul. "If I'm being honest, I'm a little disheartened that my song made you feel so down in the dumps then, because that sure wasn't the look of someone enjoying themselves. If I had to guess, I'd say that memory wasn't too pretty, but that's of course just an assumption and you've already confirmed I'm an ass." Another smile as he shifts himself to turn sideways on the bench and face the healer more directly. "You don't like talking about your problems much, do you Nel?"

When Alex’s gaze narrows, there is a tenseness in her posture, for being stared at so carefully made her uneasy. Perhaps it was wanting to blend into the crowd. In a blink, she would collect her composure. Relaxed. Poised. Her silence swarms the two before she gives him a side glance now. “I didn’t say you ‘were’ an ass. I just said you might be. I don’t know you, after all. But, hey, if you confirmed it,” a small smile is there. “As for the memory…” She cannot really convince herself to sort through it. Still raw, for… it was only a couple weeks ago. “It’s a memory.” Compared to the bard’s straightforward view, she still remains looking straightforward at the cobble roads—watching the people who pass by. “No,” she looks at him now with a full turn of her face to size him up. “Just as it seems you like to make yourself just ‘come up’ with lyrics. Just speak. Those words come from somewhere, don’t they Alex?” The Ardelian reflects him on purpose and she lets the backfire hang, yet her tone is not one of threat; only calm and collected as the smile fades into a flat line. Eyes are soft, however, to remain light.

Alex watches with a smile as Penelope refuses to let him take control of the conversation and pry out only the bits he wanted. Suddenly, he felt as if he were a fisherman with a large catch just out of reach, pulling left and right as the fish rushed off the opposite direction every time he pulled. This wasn't going to be an easy nut to crack, so to speak, and for the first time in a long time, he appreciated the comfort in the challenge. The bard swallows, a sedation to the power of his voice, before replying to the freckled face before him; "Maybe. I guess I'm not too sure where I pull them from, but I must've learned them from somewhere. Public school, most likely." He kids, while refusing to break eye contact, applying pressure to the one who 'wanted to blend into the crowd'. "You're a very pretty woman." He states in a tone that is not intentionally offsetting or intrustive. "I find myself quite curious as to what a memory might have to be to rattle you. Of course being a dumb guy myself, an ass some might say, my immediate thought is that some other dumb guy has messed you up in either the head, the heart or both. I also assume my music served as a trigger to some, maybe not so good, feelings - to which I'd like to offer my condolences in a non-direct casualty of war sort of way. I'm actually quite eager to insist it wasn't my intention to apply any sort of upset. But also, as a dumb guy, or, an ass, I acknowledge that I could be way off base and that the truth could be something far different - and lastly, as a dumbass guy, I'm very aware that the reality of the situation is none of my damn business and I'm just some stranger prying into your life when all you were trying to do is walk on by." He pulls the rod hard, far to the left, and begins to reel. "So, Nel. I guess what I'm trying to say is... while you owe me no explination, or even another minute of your time, I'm inclined to ask... where do your words come from?"

Penelope quirks a brow. “Public school, heh, right. I guess if you say so,” she reflects his playful response, yet the humor fades when those eyes remain on her. The compliment that is thrown her way does not phase her. Confident, yes. Her mind moves to the ring that is on her middle finger. Aventurine stone. She fiddles with the ring momentarily as he spills word vomit. His guesses are pinned, yet to what extremes did that statement hold? The way he phrases the words makes it seem almost childish in her brain, however, that was far from the case. Alex, however, earns a crooked smile. He was spot on, he should not be in her business, yet she does not necessarily mind his nosiness, for she was just as nosy. The only thing was, nosy people knew how to keep their mouths shut in proper times. “My words…” A sigh is released as she avoids his long, observant banter. “While you think it’s heartbreak, it’s so much more than that. My words come from a place I’m still transcribing. A void,” a very twisted place. It would be a long, long story to explain and one she has only told one other, and even they were still learning. The girl took her time with letting down the gates. The healer squints before standing. “I really have to get back to Kelay. I’m on a tight schedule—I have a trip to the desert here in a day or so.” A loose strand of hair is tucked briefly behind her ear. “Thank you for the… stability,” she shrugs that satchel up further on her shoulder. “Also, Alex, you don’t seem very dumb to me. Smart, actually. Observant.” Pause. “I hope you have a good rest of your performance.”

Alex watches her rise and ready for her depature with a genuine smile stained across his face, the line snapped and the fish swam swiftly into the sea. "The desert, eh? I'd be careful. I hear those are hot." A buffon's response on purpose to challenge her accusation of him being observant and smart, though he takes her final comment with warmth and pick himself up from the bench to offer her a courteous bow. "Thank you. Be safe, Nel." Then, with little flair or effort, the bard makes his way back to his stage and retrieves his weapon, ready to flood the streets with music once more, though once she was out of earshot - the lyrics would turn from auto trot, to a ballad about the freckled healer with a fractured void.