take up your guitar and try this at home PV Fin

Hearing someone talk about poetry, demonstrate that same level of care, made a slight smile slip upon her face. But, like all good things, it came to an end, in this case in the form of a well meaning question: "But... are you a muggle-born? Or... muggle-something?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business," she snapped, her expression darkening. Immediately though, she recoiled backwards. The dull thrum of anger and anxiety that constantly hung at the back of her mind, like the whir of an air conditioning unit that you forgot existed, forged to the foreground of her brain. The emotions mixed together, bitter and brittle, making her want to apologize, to open up, but also wanting to lock up shop, put up bars over the windows, vacate the premises of her existence altogether so no one, not even the well meaning, could understand her ever again. But at the end of that split second panic, the need to build bridges won over the need to burn them down.

"Sorry, sorry sorry sorry." The words were rushed, a mad scramble to patch up a wound before it even began bleeding. Her hands were raised outwards, attempting to placate and apologize. Gem was... well he seemed caring, and genuinely interested in her, and she had just smashed that on the ground in response to an innocuous question. Any level of care was something she had been missing since she got here, and so her brain churned with worry: had she been too rude, had she scared him off? Her fears rang in her ears, as her brain replayed snapshots of the last few seconds.

"It's a- It's a touchy subject, is all." Casting her eyes down, she continued. "I'm... uh.. oh, what's the word? I'm what you all would call a half-blood." She shrugged, fiddling with one of her bootlaces, tracing the loops of the material. "But I was raised basically as a Muggle by my dad. I didn't know any of this," she rapped on the stone ground lightly, "existed until this summer."

There. That had to be enough. No need to bring up her mother or the Lykaios, that side of the family she knew and yet didn't, separated so firmly from her by an ocean (she hoped). She was subdued, scared that she had let the anger in her scare someone off, that her slight discomfort had made everything that much more uncomfortable in this classroom.

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

"I don't really see how that's any of your business,"

Gem could feel himself wince and pull everything he'd once had out on the table back towards him. It was a sudden hostility, one that knocked him off of his balance enough for him to barely take in the apologies she'd shot at him not a second afterwards. The way her voice was once harrowing, one that sent a bust of fear into his gut, was suddenly apologetic, tight, and scared.

Scared.
Scared of a lost potential friendship, perhaps? He understood that fear, but only when it was superficial. His father did this often, especially when he was a curious little boy rummaging through items all over his studio. He could hear it in the very back of his head, the way he and his father would have short back and forths, though it was mostly just his dad talking, and then all of a sudden, he would ask his father about a record, and it seemed like all of it sort of sunk downhill from that point. He remembered the way his dad would snap at him, ask him why he was even touching it, why he was so nosy. At that age, Gem had one reaction to scolding, and it was crying. He remembered hot tears spilling down round, chubby cheeks, he remembered the confusion making him panic further.

It was hard for him to ask his father very much without the anxiety of being scolded again, and when there were no questions, there were no answers, and when there were no answers, there was nothing to speak about, and when there was nothing to speak about, you drifted away.

"Ehm, right. Sorry." He must've had his eyes all wide and unblinking, he could feel them get a bit glassy. He shut them for a bit, wiping them with his sleeves. "Well... I hope you're enjoyin' yerself so far." He had gotten a bit quiet, tapping his thumb into his other hand's palm, rubbing it. He felt bad, and he didn't really want to talk anymore. He wasn't even the victim in this situation, and yet. He'd had a problem with that, feeling bad for himself, sulking like a little baby.

"Would y' like ta," He nodded his head at the guitar, "wanna... joost, t- want to keep learnin'?" He cleared his throat, already reaching over to get a handle on the neck of his, flicking his hand towards the one he'd lent her. He felt like he was being a bit dramatic, he just didn't know why she'd snapped at him so harshly. She had the sort of energy that a wounded cat would, and then it drifted across his head that maybe she'd had some bad stuff happen to her because of being a half-blood. Mudblood, the word made him tense up and shutter. He felt lucky to be born into this, because by God did it feel horrible to see and hear about the stuff that happened to muggle borns and half-bloods.

"And... by e' way, I'm sorry for askin' about your status. The... muggle-born shite, all that. I won't tell anyone, an' I won't bully you fer it. You're joost as much of a wizard- or, witch- as I am. I hope nothin' bad's happened to ya, really. S' alright, just... I'm sorry." He felt the smoothness of his guitar under his palms, sort of avoiding eye contact due to the fact he'd become sore about the subject. He still felt bad, no doubt, he just felt the need to apologize anyway.

Watching him creep backwards, back into himself, made her heart sink. Shit. He sounded hurt, and she couldn't blame him at all. She knew she had been cruel, that her attempts to negate the whole situation wouldn't be enough. Still, watching his eyes go glassy in front of her, she felt an ache deep in her bones, a rising storm of panic that made her want to slink away and leave as quickly as possible. The space was quiet, the warm enthusiasm dimmed, and it had been her fault. The dull warmth of anxiety and tears rose in her chest and she blinked furiously, trying to quell them down. She couldn't cry now, it would make everything exponentially worse (also, what was it with her and almost sobbing in front of Ravenclaw boys, it was beginning to become a pattern, and she didn't like it).

The change in conversation, the attempt to move back into neutral territory, was appreciated, as he asked if she wanted to keep playing. In reply, she nodded softly and said, in a hushed voice "Yeah, that- that would be nice." As she spoke, she tried to keep the dull quaver out of her voice, avoiding him avoiding her. But, as he continued onward, apologizing, she felt even worse. "No, it's- it's not your fault," she whispered. "I don't care about blood status, not really, it's just that, well. Some of my family does. Like really, really does."

It was- god she hated to curse, her dad never let her curse, but it was fucked up. That was that, that was it. To have a family, where if they knew you existed, if they knew you had magic, would chew you up and spit you out. The Lykaios, from all she knew (the paltry, meager sum her dad had explained, sitting at their dining room table, as the storm rolled in, talking in a quiet serious voice) wouldn't take kindly to a half-blood in the family. She didn't quite know what dark wizards were, what that colloquial title entailed, especially in America, but that was what they were. Cruel, powerful, and petty, only wanting the best, trading in ancient magic and poisonous plants. The whole situation made her want to scream, to smash something, but that wouldn't do anyone, least of all her, any good. And there were two sides to this anger: on one hand, her anger came in from having this kept from her so long, on the other, it came from having systems that made her a black sheep of the family, scorned and potentially disposable, just by the virtue of existing.

That was enough of lingering on things she had no ability to control however. She cleared her throat, tracing abstract patterns on the stonework. "So. Chords. I think we were on E Minor?" and began to reach out for her guitar, just as he had been for his.

And then a thought struck her, making her stomach sink even more than it had already. This conversation, on her part had been all take take take, her continually yanking things away - it was like that magicians trick, yanking out the sheet from under the dishes, but instead of them staying on the table they had clattered to the floor, causing chaos and disrepair. She had to offer something, anything back, not because it would fix things, but because it was what felt right. As she thought this, she found her mouth opening of its own accord again, saying something that had been only a passing fancy, but for once, she couldn't quite be angry at her lack of a filter. "And, uh- afterwards. If you're still interested, I could- I could show you some of my poetry." The last bit was rushed, spoken in a single breath, her voice hitching in her throat, as she extended the promise as a small peace offering.

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

Oh.
So that's what it was. It never made sense to Gem, how someone could care so much about blood status. A half-blood that had a family that cared too much of status. It made him sick, it made him sad. She'd been rejected by her own family, he guessed, because she wasn't a goddamn pure-blood. He bit his tongue to keep it from spitting any insults or curses towards her pure-blood family, but that wasn't right, nor was it in his lane. He just needed to listen and understand. That was all.

"Well, 'f it changes anythin', yer family's a bit pretentious. I think ya'd oughta kick their arses, become a better witch than all ov em' combined, and show em' how great bein' a half-blood really is." He smiled at her, nice and reassuring, just so she knew she hadn't lost any points in his book. Nothing he could say really... fixed that deeply set wound of being rejected by your very own family, but he could offer some kind of solace if she needed it.

"E-minor, yeh!" He chirped, getting back into his groove, settling his fingers on the right frets, sort of tilting it out so she could see. He had to be kind, especially if he wanted a good relationship with her-- she was sweet, as far as he knew, and he'd consider her his pal. He almost thought of her as a student-- a young grasshopper. God, the thought made him want to grin.

"So, from E-minor, you should g-"

Poetry. Gem really did want to see it, he loved to see creativity tossed on a page, but... well, that was for her. Even if it was for her, Gem was quite selfish, so he accepted.

"Ooh, yes! Yeh, I'd love ta see it. Yeh, of course. Yes," He noted her insecurity about it, so he felt the burning need to be all Inspirational again. God, he really felt like a cheesy old grandma. "An', hey, I don't believe in bad poetry. If ya think it's bad, then yer thinkin' wrong." He leaned over to nudge her shoulder lightly, picking his guitar back up, setting his fingers on the frets again.

"A'right, so E-minor ta A-minor-"

The minute that he told her to kick her family's ass, her shoulders lost all the tension that had been in them. She hadn't even been aware that it was there, a ghost made obvious by its absence. There was a nagging there of course, a fear that she had told him too much or too little, that her story was out of her hands, but that was just the natural state of things, yeah? If she tried to control what others knew or said about her, she would be just as bad as her family. His smile had been almost infectious, draining the room of the tension that had felt palatable in the air, and she found herself beaming back as well.

Gem was- he was kind in a way that hit home. Maybe he didn't understand everything, but he seemed like someone who could be a good friend someday. The curious mix of blunt and gentle was a potent one, one that made her want to know more someday. Still, she couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his cheesy earnestness over poetry. If this was how he would act over her words, then she didn't have to be worried about it, did she?

Hands firmly wrapped around the guitar now, she watched with wide eyes, mimicking his motions, her fingers stumbling over the guitar chords as she strummed. With the other hand, her fingers slipped over frets, adjusting as the need arose. There was still that low constant scream at the back of her mind, the one that begged for her to take notes, worried that the lesson would slip out of her head, rising into the stratosphere, but mostly she managed to ignore it. Slowly but surely she began to gain more confidence with the instrument and had stopped handling it like it was glass and would fall to pieces in her hands. There was still an awkwardness there however, the same stumbling energy of a baby bird testing out its wings, hopping around earnestly in a way that would only lead to more tripping.

Reaching a lull in the lesson, she turned to Gem, resting the guitar on the floor with one hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with the other. "Um. Thanks for- well thanks for everything." Eyes shining, she continued. "This has been so rad! Like, absolutely out of this world cool." She punctuated this with an emphatic hand motion that nearly knocked her backwards with the force she made it. "And thanks for... understanding about earlier I guess? Which reminds me-" With one hand, she fumbled with the pocket of her jeans, digging out a small beat up spiral bound notebook, the kind normally found in the backs of pound shops. Flipping through it, she alighted on a poem, one that had been scribbled in the dim light of her common room. "-Tada!" she said, shoving the book towards him, a smile stretching across her face despite herself, even as her nerves began to get the best of her. Would he like it? Would he hate it? She wasn't quite sure.

Reducio

it's poetry time my dude

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

Teaching someone who hadn't even touched a real life guitar was new to Gem, and whenever she hit the wrong string out of clumsiness, or didn't press on the fret hard enough to cause a cringy buzz, it took kind of a lot to not wince or crinkle his nose. He got the hang of it though, replacing any one of the faces with a reassuring smile. She was learning, getting the hang of it, and slowly but surely, she had a handle on a chord progression. This was the same feeling fathers who'd just taught their young child to walk their very first steps, it had to have been. The smile he had was real now, real and refreshing.

By the time the lesson was through, Gem felt like he had a good handle on the kind of person Asteria was. It reminded him of that playful youngin that you could really laugh with, the kids who always wore their baseball caps backwards, weren't afraid to get their hands dirty. The person you so desperately wanted to be friends with, but couldn't quite figure out how-- even if you knew they'd appreciate your company, ruffle your hair and laugh. Someone that didn't make you feel different, or like a freak. A genuine person.

"Thanks! You're a real fun person ta teach, we should do it again." The words spoken were driven with an excited squeak towards the end, sort of-- wow, embarrassing, but whatever. Just as he was about to tell her not to worry about it, she dug into her jeans and showed him her notebook, which he took gently, like it were an oracle with the secrets to all his problems. He looked up at her, eyes twinkling with delight - and caution, just to make sure she was all right with this. He pulled the front page open, shuffling around any of the words scribbled on the pages, flipping page after page with his thumb. He was smiling, something that (hopefully) made the silence less awkward. He finally stopped on a page that really caught his attention, eyeing it, reading it over and over again like he could burn it to the side of his brain.

When he was finished, he looked up at her with an... emotional? Look on his face, his brows furrowed, his lips parting only a little bit. He wasn't gonna get all sappy on her, but, well... it was real pretty, the way she strung words together. It wasn't even bad like it very well could've been; it was good, and that made him really sad that she felt all self-conscious about it. This was poetry that should've been shared around, because he knew it'd make people feel less alone. He shut the notebook, holding it tightly between two hands, sort of shaking it to stress the point he was about to make --

nothing.
He had no point to make, he'd sort of been knocked off his train of thought. Or, wait, his train of thought had been- aw, fuck. He wasn't even making sense, now.

"Asteria, do you..." He paused, trying to formulate the right way to put it into words. "Have... ya ever considered bein' in a band, before?" He knew she didn't have much experience with traditional instruments, but this was very... song-makeable poetry, and... well, he figured why not, right? "This poetry... it's realleh good, mate. Really good. This is somethin' you need to share, wiv other people. This could change lives."

A band? Her poetry could change lives?
Asteria's thoughts swirled, unsure of what to reply to first. She had watched him like a hawk as he read through her poems, her nerves nearly getting the better of her as she idly chewed on the inside of her cheek. The way that he had so intently read through the page, the long drawn out silence, set flutters of anxiety through her. It was hard to read the expression on his face, the way his brows had drawn together, and her brain began to work into overdrive, constructing entire scenarios about what it all meant.

His earnest response had caught her off guard, set her off balance. He had liked it... that much? She released a breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding. Inside of her was a strange concoction of emotions, a bubbling pride that made her want to beam back at him, offset by the strange shame of having finally shown someone this thing that had been hers alone for so long.

Her thoughts were scattered like an especially spooked flock of pigeons and after a few moments she finally collected them enough to speak in a garbled questioning rush. "A band? I mean, yeah, yeah of course. I've always daydreamed about it but... I've never acted on it. Obviously. You really think I could? Be part of one, I mean." She ran a hand through her hair, looking directly at him and her own notebook, pointed straight at her. "And like, no lie? You like it? The uh- poetry?"

Art obviously mattered to him, she could guess that. You would have to be the most oblivious person on earth not to guess that, and after their time together that afternoon, it was made that much more blatant to her. If he liked it, then he wouldn't lie. It was something that simply mattered to much to lie about. A small smile began to form on her face. "So yeah, if it's a band you're proposing, then I'm game." Glancing down at the guitar and reflecting on the events of the afternoon, she continued. "But I absolutely need some more lessons first."

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

Asteria seemed like she was genuinely flattered about him stating she should consider joining a band, which may or may not have been a gentle nod towards the fact that he did, in fact, want to help her make music. Gem nodded enthusiastically, feeling up and down the cover of the book as if it were sacred.

"I do! I really- yeh, yes. I love the poetry, I think it's the best I've seen, aside from Lydia Lunch an' Oscar Wilde." He held it out for her to take back, wiggling his shoulders a bit to get the restless energy from his sudden bout of excitement out. It didn't do much. Still, when she caught his hint about being in a band, he could've skipped ten feet in the air and hollered about how badly he wanted to make music with her. She had so much potential, and... well, what teenager didn't want to start a band once in their life? All of the times he'd ever gotten the chance had consisted of coming up with a name, and never doing anything about it ever again. Most of the 'band members' didn't even play, they just owned the instrument.

"I pr- I promise I'll teach ya, as mooch as I can. And... if you can sing, then I'm sure we'd find a way ta harmonize, y' know? Sonic Youth-ish." Wow, way to make an obscure reference. "Um, because Kim and Thurston would change places- like, guitar and singin'. But yeah, I'm serious about this if you are." He stood up, holding his hand out to help her up off the floor. He would jump and run around in circles all day, if he could.

You know when you do something well, that you never thought that you could, or when someone you respect tells you that you did a good job on something you care about? That feeling where your entire being feels frantic, a mad rush of energy and emotion, like there's a glowing inside that must escape and you cannot find the key? That's how Asteria felt in this moment. A sandstorm of emotions enveloped her and twirled inside, but for once they were warm, rather than the bleak cruelty of fire and rage.

When Gem handed the notebook back, she all but snatched it from his hands, stuffing it frantically into her pocket. While she was happy to share it now, she still felt awkward, having the book out in the open like this. She blushed at his compliments, though she wasn't sure who the poets Gem referred to were, but did know she would search for them next time she had a spare moment in the library. Maybe she'd finally find a way to appreciate the nigh-immeasurable space. There was always this sense she had in libraries, that if she wandered too far in she'd end up in another world, that she'd get lost, a modern day Thesus, stuck without a ball of thread. That was what made her avoid them normally, if she could. Oh- Gem had been talking. Her thoughts had flown to the moon and back and she had missed the brunt of what he had said.

She nodded, as if she had been following his words exactly. Inside, her thoughts buzzed, too frantic to stay in one place or follow a conversation cleanly. He had said something about singing? Some band she'd never heard of? The end though, that she caught. The promise to make something new.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm serious. Plenty serious. This'll be cool, yeah?" Taking Gem's hand and pulling herself up, she wiped imaginary dust off of her jeans and veritably bounced, rocking back and forth on the heels of her over-sized boots, the frantic energy looking for a way to be released. But just as suddenly as she started she paused, as if she had come upon a canyon and caught herself before the edge. The wave of self doubt that had been held at bay for most of the lesson washed over her and her thoughts, bright, buzzing and clear, turned sticky and lethargic in one fell swoop. Did he really want to start a band with her? Was he just being nice? The worry gnawed at her in a quiet way, a way where she couldn't even see the foundation of her certainty begin to erode. But no- she was being silly, right?

Glancing towards the windows, she noted the now darkening sky. Turning towards Gem, she plastered on a smile to hide her wandering worries. "Uh- it's getting late, we should probably go. I'll see you later? Just send me an owl about all the," she gestured idly with one hand, attempting to seem calm and cool, collected and right, "band stuff! Um, thank you so much for well, all of this?" Making a pair of finger guns towards her fellow first year, she turned towards the door, a slight skip in her step, and slunk back into the corridors.

Asteria Kurokawa has left the thread.

@Gem Stuart