Azzura had come to the open mic in hopes of perhaps being able to perform some of her spoken word, but with seeing the standard of people playing, she stuck to the bar, stirring her lemonade with the straw she was sipping it from. After a little while of sipping her drink and chatting with the bartender who she’d gotten to know from many visits, her phone vibrated. Of course, she knew who it would be, and a further glance only confirmed that as his name displayed on her screen. Locking her phone, Azzura kept herself in conversation with the bartender, as though nothing had happened. Well, not much had. Lazero called every day until the effect had worn away; it was now just a hopeless plea that Azzura had grown to ignore. Her fingers drummed against the back of her phone case--not impatiently, just out of habit--as her other hand propped up her face, a smile gracing her lips as she laughed at what the man had said.
As another person came on, Azzura playfully shushed the bartender, laughing quietly before turning to watch the person come on. They sung of screens and being cool with their ukulele, changing it up in the second verse to a rap. Azzura smiled slightly and looked back to the bartender, raising an eyebrow in the kind of ‘I like this a lot’ way, resulting in a low laugh to leave his lips and a slight nudge with the raise of his eyes and mouthing “Go talk to them afterwards!” The Italian silently laughed and directed her attention back to the singer on stage. Azzura had to admit, she was slightly impressed by the change up that they made sound so natural, and the ability to pronounce each word almost flawlessly. As their song finished, Azzura clapped and added in a small “Woo!” As well, getting up from her seat. Despite the teasing words of the bartender, brown eyes rolled themselves, placing a small amount of money down and taking her drink over to where the person who was previously singing sat.
“Hey…” She said softly in hopes to get their attention, smiling gently as she spoke and clasping her hands tightly around her clutch. Brushing loose strands out of her hair, Azzura found herself getting slightly nervous and looking at her shoes more than keeping eye contact. “Argh, it sounds so awkward to say this: but I think you’re really talented. You wrote that song, right?” A laugh escaped her loose lips before pointing at the chair across from them, “Is anyone sitting here?”
This was so painfully normal. A break from the routine of 18 hours on, 6 hours off, 18, 6, 18, 6. They were hard at work, trying to get the demo recorded so maybe, just maybe they could make this dream work. Orion had gotten so stressed out that they hadn’t even gone in today, wandering and going where the music inside them led.
Of course, that meant an open mic at a random bar.
Wasn’t that how it always went?
The benefits of writing primarily with ukulele were the portability, how easy it was to carry your whole repertoire on your back as if it was nothing. They played a song that they had finished, one that they hadn’t recorded the demo of and really had no intention to, and it was well-received. They didn’t perform, they shared musical experiences, and there was something different about this one, their dark eyes lingering on a pretty girl at the bar as they sang about being broken people, standing in front of everyone trying to keep it all together.
When they finished, they were greeted with applause, an experience well received by the audience before them. A few people offered to buy drinks, but Orion shook their head, getting cold water and a smaller cup of hot water from the bartender. Miraculously, it wasn’t the weirdest request, which made Ri feel slightly more secure about making it, settling themselves at a table in the corner.
The girl that they’d seen -seen? Been entranced by, maybe- came to their table, almost wearing her skin as if she was unsure of herself. A flightless bird, unsure of what to do. They smiled warmly and shook their head. “It’s not awkward, thank you. I try to write to say something, but it doesn’t always come across that way." The gestured for her to take the chair across from them, moving their ukulele to one of the two remaining chairs at the table. "Feel free to join me, honestly. I'm off for the night and actually trying to enjoy life for once. Orion, by the way." She'd been pretty from the little stage, but she was even prettier up close, the slightest of nerves making their left cheek twitch, the more masculine of the pair tossing their head lightly to shake off the physical tic.
Azzura smiled slightly and nodded, sitting down on the chair they'd offered, desperately trying not to fall over in the heels she was wearing, since making a good first impression seemed vital now. She placed her lace clutch onto the small table along with her drink, hoping she could put it down quiet enough so it wouldn't make a massive clunking noise and interrupt what they were saying, before looking up at them once more. A smile graced her lips as she shook her head, “You can definitely get a point across; I’d love to hear some more of your stuff!” The Italian crossed her legs, making hand gestures as she spoke, “It’s like…nothing I've ever heard before, but it fits together really well. Original, and you got talent.” Azzura paused for a moment, before laughing and running a hand through her hair, pushing it back, suddenly aware of her Italian accent, “...That probably sounded really weird again, but I get very invested in music and new things sometimes.”
The tune was quite catchy too, and she found herself running over it in her head, trying to catch the lyrics and sounds like leaves flying through the air in the midst of Autumn. Some slipped through her fingers, remembering the tune but the lyrics blanking in her mind. Azzura remembered the chorus and the bridge but the verses had slipped. Perhaps they had it recorded somewhere? She'd love to hear it again, like she did with most music she listened to—slam it on repeat until she got bored or another song came along. With this style—did it have a name?—of music, however, Azzura was sure she could never get bored of it. It had entranced her and felt more like an experience than simply sounds, weaving poetry with wonderful vocals and flawless ukulele playing. She loved it, plain and simple.
“Ah, I’m Azzura! Nice to meet you!” Did she shake their hand? Yes? No? She went with no, and instead leant forwards to take a sip of her drink quickly before leaning back again. Was there a slight pink tinting her cheeks? There was no mirror she could whack out now and check, but Azzura secretly crossed her fingers to hope she didn't look disastrous. “Also if you don't understand a word I say, you can ask me to repeat anything and everything,” She laughed hesitantly, glancing up at them, “My accent gets way too strong sometimes.” And it’s totally not because someone really cute is in front of me right now. Lord help me. @Orion Windsor
Orion tilted their head slightly, listening to her carefully. They picked up languages the way that they picked up instruments, the same way one picked up their phone, with an ease that was almost like muscle memory. She was showering them with compliments that they could only smile and accept graciously; they didn’t always think that it was deserved, but it was nice to know that their words had resonated with someone so much that they were practically voracious to hear more.
The tint of pink warming her cheeks caressed her face like a lover, laying gently as if it belonged there all the time. They tried not to stare, their dark eyes fixated on her, watching the way her lips parted in a hesitant laugh, the way that her body coiled up tight as if she was going to snap like a stressed ukulele string. Still, a small smile played at their lips, the enby shaking their head. “I can understand you just fine, Azzura,” the musician replied in a warm tone, the smile widening, brightening the way that the sun seemed to when it finally peeked over the horizon. “My drummer, Cade, he grew up in Germany, and his accent comes and goes depending on how he’s feeling. Sometimes, I’m not even sure he’s speaking English.”
Orion had grown up in a very, very diverse boarding school, so they’d picked up parts of numerous languages, Italian included. They mixed a little more of the hot water into their ice water, eyebrows quirking as her phone vibrated on the table top. “Should you get that?” they asked, not pressing the issue, but simply curious. If she needed to speak to someone, Orion didn’t want to take up her time unnecessarily. Since they’d sort of just skipped out on recording that night, their own phone was going to stay silent, the iPhone cradled carefully in a case that one of his friends’ siblings had drawn the art for by request.