interacting w/ @Asteria Kurokawa

Bands. Bands and music.
Those were the two things that were constantly running around in Gem's head, music this, band that, lyrics this, guitar that. He'd played for years, he'd written for years-- all of that had a reason, making music felt like his very own reason. He never thought much of that 'follow your family's footsteps' bullshite, but this time, he bought into it. His dad was in a band, he wanted to be in a band. He wanted to make music, he wanted people to listen to his music, he wanted the words to mean something. He never thought he'd find something like that at Hogwarts, find someone with that kind of mindset with them, that inspiration - but he did.

It was a lucky find, someone he enjoyed the company of who had a beautiful mind, had lots and lots of potential-- and for once, the motivation wasn't popularity or whatever, it was all for the music. He could tell, he could see it, it brought him the happiest sort of jitters. Asteria was the one, Asteria was the person he was gonna stand by and make music with. It was just perfect, he didn't even care how it happened.

However, in the past weeks, she had stuff to learn. He had to show her how to play the guitar, he had to see where her pitch was-- but he'd taught her all the chords she needed to to come up with some good music, real good riffs, too. He had her words, they were just right, they meant something, they were sacred, and that was just what he liked to see. He felt so selfish, but it was his excitement getting to his head. They'd finally come up with a place to meet to discuss other things, which instruments they'd need, what kind of sounds were going to inspire them, and what they'd be called. A name was always subject to change, but it was an important thing to have. It had to make sense each and every time.

He'd already gotten the two of them butterbeers, (virgin, the bartender wasn't so easily convinced) and was siting upright on a stool, his shirt hanging off all the jangly limbs he had. He was wearing a band shirt, shocker, I know, for the Pixies, a real good favorite of his. No one hated the Pixies. He couldn't even sip his butterbeer, he was too excited-- it was like a first date, except it was so much better.

As she made her way down to meet with Gem, Asteria found herself nearly skipping, her footsteps lighter than normal, a soft bounce in her step. She was buzzing inside, a mixture of adrenaline and anticipation, mind swirling with thoughts of the future. All of her felt torn in a million directions, filled with the urge to yell, to jump up and down in excitement. There was something inside that needed out, a thing she could not name or describe, but for once, it felt like a good something, not anger or homesickness or anything else. It was pure, a pull towards making something new, and not even making it alone.

That was the pull of this whole thing, she thought, skip-walking her way towards the door of where they had agreed to meet, the fact that I get to make this with someone. It was scary sure, sharing anything with anyone was, because when you shared something you had to put it into resolute certainty, but it was good too. It was good to get that which was within her out, and see what it became upon collision with someone else. Or at least that was what she hoped. There was still so much she had to learn. Not just regarding the guitar and singing, though that was a small churn of anxiety. No, the problem was music in general. Her taste was, unsurprising on account of her age, quite limited, relegated to pop hits and her dad's records from the 80s. She could learn though - to make something new you had to know what you were drawing from, at least that was what she had been told, and she didn't see any reason to doubt it.

Lost in thought, she nearly bumped into the door. Rubbing her head, she pulled it open, immediately spotting Gem. Her thoughts turned towards him. She was already growing fond of him and the careful way he phrased things, until he got excited, which was often when music was involved.

"Hey, hi, sorry I'm late." The jumble of words fell from her mouth, like a herd of excited puppies descending upon their owner en masse, stumbling and tripping over each other. She pulled herself up onto the stool next to Gem, still too short for the whole process to be graceful in the slightest. Upon finally obtaining her perch, her legs swung slightly, kicking back and forth against the wall of the bar and the stool she sat on. Without realizing it, she began to tap her fingers against the counter-top, an outlet for her idle energy, and turned towards the boy she had agreed to meet. "So. Band stuff, yeah? I've got some name ideas-" She had a bucketful of ideas in fact, scribbled by the fireside of the Hufflepuff common room when she couldn't sleep "-but I wasn't sure where we should start. If that's the first thing or if there's other stuff that should come before it, I mean. I'm new to this whole music thing." She beamed over at Gem, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. 

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

Gem, for once in his godforsaken life, didn't jump when he heard a sudden voice - only because it was one he was looking forward to, one he knew. He'd been waiting for that pipped up voice for like, what, five minutes? He beamed, sliding the butterbeer over to his... well, bandmate, but also friend. He sipped on it now, hearing her speak about the names, the mild ramble she had going on. It was so refreshing. So damn refreshing.

"You've got names already?" He asked, his lips still pressed up against the glass, sounding very much like an old woman who just couldn't catch up. He had a few names in mind, but he scrapped them due to the fact they were all just... dismal. He felt very undignified throwing the parchment with potential band names into the fireplace, but it had to be done. "Lay em' on me, then! We can decide e' other logistics afterwards."

He was thinking ahead, now. He'd had everything thought out, the way they sounded, how the sound would develop. Obviously he knew that it wouldn't stay that way, but by God he spent all his time in class doting on them being on an actual stage, recording their music in a real studio-- he wondered what they'd look like. He tried not to pour too much thought into the way their noise would start off as, but he got the idea of punk rock. Or- or grunge, or something that started off as simple, but good.

He reached over to get a hold of his mug of butterbeer, getting a real hefty sip. He didn't think that his own mother's death would bring him down from a mood like this.

She accepted the butterbeer gratefully, making a slight face of shock as she tasted the sweet drink for the first time in her life. "Yeah! Yeah, I- I got excited about it. Y'know, words and all that." It was strange, joking about her proclivity for poetry with someone, when it was something she had kept to her chest for so long. But it was nice being open about it with someone else, having it be something that could be shared.

Poetry was where she had looked for most of her names, flipping though her notebooks, circling turns of phrases that seemed as if they could fit. Some came from other sources, things she had been read, or simply strange words that flitted in her head. The thing was, she didn't think most of the them were good. But even if they weren't they were good as names, they might still be worth a laugh or too. She hoped. Most things in life could hold something good, if you took the time to look. This might be one of those things where it was worth taking that time. That was what friendship was for, right?

Fishing her notebook out of her pocket, she placed it flat on the counter, exposing its college ruled lines and the childish scrawl contained within.She paged through it, finally finding her list and began to read aloud in a hushed tone, achingly aware for the first time of the other denizens of the bar. As she read, pauses were left for Gem's response to each name, as she glanced over at the boy, attempting to gauge his reaction.

"So there's Green Loves Pink, not my finest work, I know, um- or Everglade Fires? I kind of like that, or..." She droned on, adding commentary to each name from the list, expressing her doubts over them or excitement, explaining where she had thought them up. The list was simple but long, truly the manifestations of a child's mind, but like most things from children, holding that special quality of creativity, unaffected fully by adult rationalization or logic. Its most important quality was the earnestness with which it was delivered. "...or we could be The Wrecks. I sort of stole that from a poem though, one my dad likes. Uh - 'the wreck and not the story of the wreck, the thing itself and not the myth', that whole thing. But it seems separate enough to be good, I think? Annnnd here's the last one: Love Song For The Dead. That's a bit doom and gloom though," she concluded, wrinkling her nose at the name. "So. Thoughts?"

There was something nice about hanging out with Gem, Asteria thought, waiting for his response, drumming her fingertips on the countertop. Sure, she still admired the boy, found his ability to make music absolutely astounding, but there wasn't a constant pang of anxiety in her whenever they talked. The strange impulse at the back of her head that begged her to seem cool, to seem as if she knew what she was doing quieted down, at least a bit. She could speak her mind in peace, for the most part.

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

While Asteria listed her band names, he narrowed his eyes in thought. Some of them were kinda long, but when she said the Wrecks? He might as well have fallen in love right then and there. His eyes were all big, waiting for her to finish her short list, his legs swinging impatiently, a little thump sounding from the edge of the bar.

"The Wrecks!" He hollered, his voice a little bit too loud - or, loud enough to turn a few heads. He ducked his head down a bit sheepishly, grinning at her to express the excitement. "Ya know, Leland said that the best band names come from references. You're provin' him right," He chirped, getting out a bent up quill from his pocket, writing down the Wrecks on a stray napkin he had.

The Wrecks. What kind of music did the Wrecks play? He set his elbow down on the counter, his chin in his palm. The Wrecks, what impact would the Wrecks have? A lot, so it had to be good. It had to be good, he wouldn't accept anything less.

"All right, let's go on n' talk about our instruments. Guitar, yeh, we can swap vocals since yer voice is heavenly," He snapped his fingers, sucking his cheek in between his teeth. Well, he knew how to play the drums, sort of, so that would work. Asteria on guitar, him on the drums, they could swap around a bit, right? Right. "I'm plannin' on askin' me dad for some drums, a bass, and maybeh some other stuff to record our progress. That sound all right wiv ya?" While he spoke, he wrote the instruments down in points, a small bulleted list of things they'd need to really get anything out of this.

"So... tha' sort of leads me into our inspirations. I know me own are the Strokes, Joan Jett, Patti Smith, Courtney Barnett, Sonic Youth... ah... riot music, kind ov. You know any ov those, don't ya? You're quite cultured, ha." He trusted Asteria's taste, only because he thought she was a badass. Everyone's music taste seemed mundane, but golly, hers gave him a little hope for a real jumpy, fun band. He liked Asteria, that's what made things so easy. She was fun to work with, she wasn't all stuck up and dumb like all the other people he'd proposed the idea of a band to, she really stuck with it. She was the coolest girl he'd ever met, and that wasn't an understatement, he meant it. Asteria was one of the very best people he'd met, he wanted to be her friend for as long as he could --

in the most non-creepy way possible.

Christ, he thought, taking another sip of his butterbeer to keep any of that from coming out of his mouth, you're always so ahead of your thoughts, you don't even know where they start.

She beamed at his outburst, faint bubbles of joy rising within her. He liked it, he really did like something she had helped make. And then he pulled out the paper, started listing out instruments and she felt overwhelmed, swept away by the deluge of information. Again returned her familiar itch for her notebook, for a way of organizing her thoughts scattered like stray leaves. But even with all the instruments she had never even thought of playing, there was one thing she knew she could trust - her hands. They were dependable, something that would never betray you. She'd learn to play, she wanted to, had the will to. "Yeah, yeah all of those sound good." Her head bobbed in agreement with her words.

And then there was the issue of music. The idea of her being cultured nearly made her want to laugh but she bit her tongue. She didn't know what she was, but she wasn't sure that cultured was the right word for it. Her eyes lit up at Joan Jett and Patti Smith, but for the rest there was a dull buzz at the back of her head, names she had heard in passing, but nothing more and she didn't want to disappoint, but she couldn't lie. The music that she listened to, the stuff she really cared about, tumbled from her mouth. "Uh- My music influences? Runaways, absolutely, so Joan Jett, yeah? But also: No Doubt, X-Ray Spex, Bikini Kill, and The Ting Tings." She gave a halfhearted shrug. "I like music where you can feel it in your bones, y'know? Where it just gets up in there and reverberates through all of you."

Most of her music had been from her dad, his odd assortment of new and old records. He had thumbed through the stacks of CDs and records  in their home often, joking that he used to be cool and go to concerts in college. In her opinion, he was still cool. But his music taste had stuck with her for now, had filtered through her opinions. Parents had a way of doing that, sweeping you away in their taste.

As she rambled, she twiddled her fingers idly, kicking slightly at the legs of her chair. Placing her hands on the counter and pressing down hard, she pushed back, tipping her stool onto its two back legs and then pulling forward, rocking back and forth slightly. It was a way of burning through the worry that bubbled in her stomach for no discernible reason, having arrived quickly and without motive. The wobbling continue until a sharp look from the bartender forced her to stop. Glancing over at Gem, she chewed on her lip slightly. "So from these bands we can figure out our vibe?"

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

That made sense, all that riot grrrl she seemed to listen to. Bikini Kill, he knew that group, quite liked them. He had a feeling there would be a whole lot of experimental-feeling to their music, but a free kind. Or, as free as you could get in a boarding school with limited supplies since muggle technology would fry around an environment like that. They'd have to be very creative, whether it consist of them banging pots together or steal words from their classmate's mouths and make it poetic to the very best of their ability.

"I fink we can get some bone-groovin' music goin'," He said, "it'll make people right jump, I'll say tha' mooch. I won't accept anything less." He winked, even if he wasn't at all kidding about it. There was some level of fear there, that they'd become too poppy, maybe even known outside of school - he knew the studio always sucked the fun right out of making music. He didn't know what he'd do if music stopped being fun, he'd probably have to fake his own death and run away. "Yeh! We'll 'ave our own fing, but having inspirations makes a band complete, yunno? If ya try too hard to be creative, you'll sound like a right fookin' fool. I've seen it firsthand, it's not pretty.

"I've still got ta let me dad know so he can give us some supplies, recordin' shite, allat, but he's quite quick. I don't fink he's on tour right now, but even then, Leland's probably free enough ta hand me some microphones and basses. If we don' know wot we're doin' while we're recordin', that joost makes it a billion times better. It's... it's punk rock." He sniffed, scribbling some more notes on the napkin, humming a tune he'd written himself about three months ago. While he was shy about sharing his music, he knew pretty well he wasn't a bad songwriter - that, and he had to get over it if he was going to be in a band. Bands channeled everything, and now that he had someone he understood who understood him, he felt rather comfortable projecting that kind of love for writing with her. As long as he knew she was okay with it, so was he - that was just how he worked. The juvenile admiration of one another seemed vital in a dynamic like this, he knew it too well.

"Okay, so," He sat up, stretching the napkin out in front of him. "We're e' Wrecks, we've got an abundance ov instrumental usage, bass, guitar, vocals, drums, and wotever else me dad thinks is right, we're big fans ov Patti Smith, 'e Runaways, Bikini Kill, an' e' Ting Tings, and we're gonna rock everyone's socks off." He stopped, glancing at Asteria with a childish glint of unadulterated joy in his eyes. "How's that fer a fookin' magical band?"

Eyes wide, she watched him list out their plans so far, as she sipped on her Butterbeer (nose wrinkling slightly as the sugar overwhelmed), and nodding at the moments that seemed appropriate. She was excited though, that bubbling feeling in her chest rising again (but then, that might just be the Butterbeer), dousing the faint acid of anxiety. Not know what they were doing? That was easy, that was something she did every day of her life generally. She was a creature of improv and instinct, words and actions happening before her brain had the time to process them. If that was what they needed (at least to an extent) then she was ready to offer her services.

The unknown excited her, in a way it hadn't in a while. She trusted Gem, really trusted him with this. It was something he cared about and even if there were rough patches (there would always be rough patches), she felt certain that they could carry though. Anyway, what was that quote? The one about how glitches became features at a certain point? Her dad had mentioned it a bit, mostly regarding his software job, but she was almost certain it had originated with music. The rough patches could be re-purposed, transformed into something  new and good and distinct. Their problems could always be presented as intentional. The prospect of it all filled her with warmth and she beamed as Gem concluded his thoughts, tapping her fingers along quietly to the tune he hummed.

"How's that fer a fookin' magical band?"

"He-" She wanted to say 'heck,' wanted to resort to her typical softer curses, but this was a punk band after all. She could curse just this once. "Hell yes!" she squeaked, her voice still soft in the loud bar, resisting the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth. Her eyes met Gem's and both, in that moment, shared the same look of joy. "This is going to be so sick," she said in a burst of excitement, hands banging on the counter, unaware of the out-dated nature of her qualifier for cool. "We just- we get to do this now. Like this is really, actually happening. It's not a thought or a thing to abandon. We actually get to do this! Oh my god!" She flushed at this outburst, once again aware of bar's busyness, feeling all eyes upon her. She had also grabbed one of Gem's hands at this point, reaching out for something to steady herself in her excitement, unaware of her action, mind still racing with the reality of the situation.

"Oh- uh, sorry," she said, pulling her hand away, "It's- it's just so exciting, y'know? Of course you know, but I'm- I am so glad that we are doing this. Like we have a game plan and everything." The flush continued across her cheeks, her normal awkward tumble of words falling fast, but she wasn't embarrassed, couldn't really be embarrassed in this moment. Gem had read her poetry, shared her enthusiasm. This was their project, something they shared, and she didn't have to conceal what she felt at all.

@Gem Stuart

@Asteria Kurokawa

Gem hadn't expected her to grab his hand, but when she pulled back, he instead leaned forward and grabbed both of her hands, doing a little shoulder-shimmy-dance-thing to make her feel less... awkward, he supposed? He felt nothing but joy, excitement, and the low undertone of nervousness. He didn't know what the Wrecks had in store, but he had a feeling it was great. He had a good relationship with Asteria so far, they both had their head in the game, and they... they just worked. They clicked, like a seatbelt.

"We've got everythin' we need, mate. Everythin'." His eyes almost glowed, saying that last part. He knew his dad would be in complete support of it, Leland too - his mum... well, she probably wouldn't be so keen about it, but he'd damn her to hell! This was the first time in a long time since he was happy, such a spontaneous choice, one that could change the course of their life. This is something they were meant to do, and fate had it that they met. He could just squeal, but he had some dignity left to keep that from happening.

"Once I've got all e' instruments, I'll let ya know. Me dad has these spells that work better than an amp and a petal, I'm sure he'll tell em' to me when he gets tha chance. I-I'll tell ya too, but ya know," He got another sip of his butterbeer, mostly to shut himself up for a second - he could run his mouth a whole marathon. "We're gonna be tha voice of the next generation, Asteria. I'm tellin' you, this is gonna be fookin' revolutionary. I swear ta god, it'll be better than Oasis could dream of!" Oasis. God, he hated that band - ironic, since he was named after the guitarist, Gem Archer. Maybe that was why he hated it so much. Huh. "We could probableh practice some covers in tha' empty classroom? Or maybe e' abandoned baffrooms, since they've got good, like... surround sound." He shrugged, finding that it was a problem for another time -- they hadn't even gotten all the proper instruments yet.

Gem's hands reaching back for her own were sweet in a way, a reminder that yes, this was theirs, that they were in this together. Still, there was a feeling settling in her stomach, one that she could not name as she nodded along with his plans, listening intently.

It was a glow, she thought, trying to place the that precise rush of feelings that seemed to fill the space where the pair sat at the bar. A rush of potential, a promise of something more, a light that couldn't be seen, but whose warmth was still felt. It wasn't just the humdrum of school, the confusion of standing on the doorstep of adult life, a world both wide and limiting all at once. No, it was like the sun had placed it sights upon a small British bar, filling the space with light and energy.

It was all a lot, this talk of instruments and charms and empty bathrooms, plans that swirled in and around her, but it was nice to be swept away in the whole thing, to have something to look forward to, not another empty autumn day rolling out in front of her. This was action, a plan to set in motion. Her legs still kicked at the wall of the bar, but this was less out of a nervous frantic energy, and more the idle buzz of excitement.

"Covers?" She asked, titling her head to one side slightly, her thoughts filtering through every song she knew, or even half-knew, silently dismissing most of them. "What should we cover first, d'you think? Like obviously anything, but um- I'm sure that you have some ideas." She shot a small smile at him, her brain still a jukebox record player, flipping through its selection at an ill-advised speed. Which is probably why she didn't notice that one of her small excited kicks was a tab too forceful, sending her and her stool tumbling backward with a quiet awkward jerk.

@Gem Stuart