9900/Fight Song: Metamorphosis

Fight Song: Metamorphosis
Date of Scene:	03 November 2019
Location:	Xavier's, Music Room
Synopsis:	Finally giving in to Cannonball's badgering about performing at open mic night at Club Evolution, Shannon takes up learning
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Triage

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Nightingale has posed:
     It had been a few months since Shannon had dared poke her nose into the music room at Xavier's. There were memories here that hurt, a heartache that welled up within her when she glanced through the doors, passing by en route to morning classes. It was one she largely kept to herself and spoke little of, avoiding the room as if it were quarantined.

     Today, though, the quarantine needed to be broken. There had been long talks about not bottling up one's feelings, and the occasion was as good as any to begin facing down yet another demon. So, amongst the instruments and seating for a small ensemble, she makes her way to the grand piano, with freshly printed sheets in hand. A soft sigh escapes her as she runs her fingers lightly across the keys, a tear trickling down her face at the bittersweet memories. A sweet, joyous day, that led to one more wonderful day--and then silence, for weeks on end. She just holds there for a moment, allowing herself to feel the ache, letting the tears flow. It would do no good to keep them inside, and at least in here, there was nobody else for the moment, who would see her and judge her weak for the much-needed release.

     There was a task to hand, though. A task that, despite her better judgement, she had let herself be prodded into taking on. She had to prepare a song, one she had never played before, as she had finally agreed to Sam Guthrie's request that she perform just once at Evolution. It had to be a song worthy of the occasion, something to make her adopted big brother proud. With some research, she found just the song, and settled down on the bench. Spreading the pages before her, she begins, haltingly, on the first notes. It's rough, but recognizable--"Fight Song".

Triage has posed:
The door closed behind Shannon, sealing the room perfectly so that the sounds of practice would not escape. The overhead panels flickered to life in rapid succession, bathing the room in a soft glow that provided enough light for students to read their music with little strain in most cases. Small, discrete vents in the ceiling opened, sending a gentle breeze of fresh air into the room, scented with a light aroma to promote both relaxation and concentration at once. Behind the walls, sensors counted the number of people in the room, noted locations, and adjusted that ventilation to provide warm or cool air as needed for a comfortable temperature.

Nightingale has posed:
     That light, sweet scent, something Shannon has only caught a whiff of once before, on that first foray into the room, has her pause momentarily, her fingers tangling on the keys to produce a discordant sound. NO. She would not let this stop her! A few deep breaths, and she is back on track, attempting a few more measures of the song before returning to the beginning, and attempting the first few lines. Overall familiarity with the piece aided the process, and while it is far from perfect, she tries to add a little bit of singing, just to test the waters. Her voice is a little shaky, choked with tears she tries to hold back to focus on the task at hand.

"Like a small boat
On the ocean
Sending big waves
Into motion
Like how a single word
Can make a heart open
I might only have one match
But I can make an explosion...."

Triage has posed:
Like many rooms in the school, this one has undergone occasional remodeling. Unlike most, that remodeling was not to remedy damage done by new students who had not learned to control powers. Instead, the upgrades improved surfaces that perfectly duplicate the acoustics. The control for this system, mounted by the door as a black touch display, winks to life when Shannon begins to play. Bold letters in the center of the display read "DEFAULT MODE." Below that is an intuitive menu for specifying parameters for venues of all sizes, from private parlors to concert halls.

Nightingale has posed:
     Absorbed as she is in the learning process, Shannon does not yet see the controls, and so they are left at 'DEFAULT' mode. Scowling with frustration and dissatisfaction at her first effort, she takes it from the top, at about half speed. Each note is played with care, attention paid to the placement of the fingers for comfort and ease of play. Every so often, she stops, picking a pencil from behind her ear and scribbling notations on the page, marks that perhaps only she might understand.

Triage has posed:
The door, designed to minimize distraction to practicing students, opens silently. Chris, crouching below eye level to anyone at the piano, slips inside and allows the door to close behind him. He remains in an Asian squat, listening while Shannon continues to work out kinks in her performance. Drawing from his years of training in martial arts, he focuses on keeping his breath silent.

Nightingale has posed:
     The next attempt at the first verse of the song is a bit smoother, if played at a slower tempo than might otherwise be expected of an actual performance. Her voice is very soft, not ringing out as it might perhaps if she were further advanced in the learning process for this piece. Each word is matched carefully to each chord, the framework for muscle memory being laid down with each note struck by carefully-arched fingers. A small smile crosses her face; it wasn't the greatest attempt yet, but it was far from the worst. But did she dare attempt the chorus? It was now or never.

"This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me..."

     Each note played, each word sung, thrums with more confidence than the last, as if the song itself were shoring up the girl's own reserves, which were normally sadly lacking.

Triage has posed:
Chris listens silently until Shanon stops and becomes absorbed in making notes on the sheet. He rises slowly, just enough to reach the panel. With a few flicks of his finger, he adjusts the acoustics to mimic those of the club. Then he crouches again and waits.

Nightingale has posed:
     Pleased with herself for taking on so much in the first go, Shannon decided to go right back to the beginning of the piece. The opening notes ring out in the room, still not played quite at full tempo....

     Something wasn't right. It was a subtle change at first, that leaves the young mutant looking down at her hands. Something about the way the notes were reflected back to her by her surroundings had changed. She halts playing, mid-verse, silent for a moment. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head, playing a single note and paying special attention to the acoustics. Wait. The acoustics! What had changed, and how?

     A slight frown draws Shannon's brows inwards, and she gets up to check the settings by the door....

     ...only to find she was not alone. Her jaw drops, her face first going pale, then bright red. "How... the... why, you sneaky...!!!!"

Triage has posed:
When Shannon leaves the piano and heads for the panel, Chris smoothly stands. "To get it right, you need a feel for the room. Don't you think?" he offers a warm and encouraging smile. "You're doing fine but hearing how it will sound on that stage should help you to pace the notes and your voice. If you want Cannonball to stop with the nagging, you need to show that you really /can/ handle it." He waves to the bench. "So, try it again, from the top, listen to the room, and place those notes exactly where you want, like a painter but with sound."

Nightingale has posed:
     "But how did you know I finally told him I'd perform?! I haven't told a single soul yet!" Letting out an exasperated, embarrassed sigh, Shannon looks at the piano now as if it had begun to sprout fangs and claws. "I'm really beginning to wonder if you two are telepaths! You sure you haven't been tested for that?"

     Still, Chris made a good point. If she was ever going to manage this performance, and face down this particular demon, she had to try. Bite me, she thought to herself. Staring down =the piano for a moment more, she makes her way back to the bench, sitting down as if to play once more.

Triage has posed:
Chris chuckles. "I didn't need to ask Sam about this," he answers, nodding to the sheet music on the piano. "Even if I were a telepath, which I'm not, I wouldn't need to scan his mind to know it." He shrugs and bobs his head. "I know you." He shakes his head. "No, I didn't sneak upstairs or hack into the computers to peek at your file, but I know you. You're stubbrn. It's not the kind of stubbornnes that lands people in trouble. It's the kind that says, 'I'll show you. Then you'll leave me alone about it so that I can go on to what I need to do.'" He waves his hand. "Even the song that you chose says that."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon just lets out a sigh, and shakes her head, a short laugh shaking her shoulders. "Maybe he'll either finally leave me alone about it, or it'll wind up being a regular thing. Or both. I don't know yet." Her fingers rest on the keys, but no notes are played, not yet. "This is a shocker, but you realize I might actually have a record label looking at me? I went from dreams dying and changing into something else, to coming to life all over again. It's... a lot to take in."

Triage has posed:
"Is that what you want?" Chris asks. "To play and perform and tour like Andrea does?" He shakes his head. "There's nothing wrong with it and you might help more people than you can count. Just be sure that keep the right people close. I've heard many stories about talented people who lost everything to people who took advantage."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon shakes her head. "I don't want to turn out like that. But when I was little, I got to see the Boston Symphony perform the Jaws theme and a lot of other movie soundtrack classics, live. It was pretty epic, and I just wished that I could have been up on that stage with them, playing, helping make all those people smile, maybe forget their troubles for just a little while." She sighs softly, letting her head bow and her wings droop for the briefest of moments. "Dreams change, though. Or they did. Now, I don't know. But, I do know a couple things. One... I'm not leaving here. This is home now. Two, I intend to stay on and teach one day. Three, I aim to continue on with the healing, and maybe one day helping make a stand out there. Beyond that... I don't know. That dream I had as a kid, well, it's not one I ever thought would live again."

Triage has posed:
Chris smiles. "You might change someone's life, or many lives, in the same way that the symphony changed your life by inspiring you," he says. "Even if you play only once at the club, that might be the time when someone needing to hear your song will be there, and you'll make a difference." He nods ot eh music. "As I said, it's a fine song, a good choice. Just remember that whenever you do good, you make a difference, and some of the things that seem small can mean the most to people." He sighs. "But I'm distracting you. If you want to be alone, I'll go so that you can prepare." He looks at the sheet again, lifts it, and studies it closely. He returns the sheet to the stand. "Was something wrong earlier?" he asks, pointing to a spot on the sheet where water has soaked into the paper.

Nightingale has posed:
     For a moment, the only sound is the rustling of paper as Shannon rearranges the sheets so that they're in the right order again. "A little. I haven't been in here since just about a week after arrived here." She leaves it alone there, quirking her eyebrows and letting out a soft sigh, before picking up with the intro to the song again. This time, the tempo of the music is a little over half of a normal performance, each placement of her hands as careful as before. More attention is paid to accuracy than speed at the moment, and no attention paid at all to the demon behind the door in her heart.

Triage has posed:
"'Music hath charms,' they say," Chris remarks, nodding. "Anyone who's enjoyed good music seeks refuge in it when things are bad. That's part of the magic. When you play, you become a magician, casting that spell." He smiles. "Keep working. Make it your magic, your spell. When the time comes to cast it for real, you'll be fine." He falls silent, content to watch Shannon's fingers while they dance over the keys.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon's voice trails off, and she nods, fumbling a few chords. "I met Mason in here," she murmurs. And that's all she leaves it at, plain and simple. It takes an effort of will this time, but her focus is returned to the music, a few measures before where she left off. "I'll have to ask Sam when the club has open mic nights, and pick one a little ways from now. Just... don't want to embarrass him or myself up there, screwing up."

Triage has posed:
"You'll be fine," Chris predicts. "When you sing it, think of Mason. Tell him that he can't haunt you. Tell him that you've put his ghost to rest because you have bigger battles to fight." He nods. "Sam will be proud of you because you conquered your fears and you tried. When the time comes, you should be proud of yourself for the same reason. And if you miss a note or two, just remember that you're doing something that many people would like to do but can't because they don't have that talent and that opportunity."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon lets out a mildly sardonic laugh, shaking her head. "No, for things like that, I go for a little classic Gloria Gaynor." She does take a moment to pause in her pracice, slip her phone from her pocket, and tap out a quick message. "There. Hopefully, unless Sam's sucking face..." Her bitter laugh turns to a more lighthearted, almost mischievious giggle. "...I ought to hear about when open mic nights are."

Triage has posed:
"If we're thinking of the same one, that's a good point about Ms. Gaynor," Chris agrees. He pauses while Shannon taps out the query and returns her phone to its pocket. "Sucking face?" he asks with a chuckle. "I'm sure that he'd have other words for it. Would you prefer that he hate her? Or be miserable? Beside that, I'm sure that you'll charm some lucky guy, and someone will tease you about sucking face." He sighs. "When you get the answer about that night, will you tell me?" he wonders.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Actually, those /were/ his words." Shannon smirks, but shakes her head in answer to his question. "No, I'm glad he's happy. I wasn't quite sure what to think or feel at first, other than I was afraid I was losing him. But I talked that out with him, and ran into her at the club one day. It wasn't a bad afternoon, that one. We chitchatted for a while, and wouldn't you know she had me playing 'House of the Rising Sun' on the guitar in one lesson? Now I'll have to go window shopping for guitars." His second query is answered with a nod, and her brows furrow momentarily.

Triage has posed:
"Are you serious about a guitar?" Chris asks. "There's a music store in Salem. If you'd like, we could go and see what they have, even take Jay along if he'll agree. He should should be able to give you advice on brands and what's important." He looks down and shakes his head.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon laughs softly, her eyes twinkling for a moment. "Oh trust me, I'll never forget that music store. Very literally ran into the good Captain there, the first day I met him. Have they fixed the dent in the sidewalk there from where my jaw dropped yet? Wait... never mind, we'll have to go there and see for ourselves." Tilting her head slightly, she smiles at him.

Triage has posed:
Talk to Jay then," Chris urges. "If he'll help, we can go on Saturday, find a guitar for you, and have lunch and dinner there before we come back to the school." He frowns thoughtfully and adds, "If the electronics store is still open, we should check on a wearable camera for that flight."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon cracks something of a wry smile. "I did say window shopping. Just see what I have to save for, and find a way to earn it. Besides... it's as good a reason as any to get out while the weather's still good." Her smile widens further, eyes alight with joy at the prospect of that flight. "Hopefully those aren't too pricey. That's got to come before a guitar, definitely."

Triage has posed:
"You did say that, but if you find a bargain, you might not have time to wait. If you can't afford it, I'll get it for you. I've managed to save a bit through the years. Call it an investment in helping you to keep your sanity." He smiles. "The camera would be fun, and you should have some flying time before the big storms hit."

Nightingale has posed:
     "I've got most of my chores stipend squirreled away for Christmas presents, which means I'll be hitting the craft supply stores pretty hard here, soon." Scratching the back of her head, Shannon seems to consider this. "I can't ask you to do that. Instruments can be pretty pricey...." Her voice trails off, wings drooping. "Still, it can't hurt to just look, right?"

Triage has posed:
"My mom always said that everyone can pay to window-shop," Chris recalls. "You didn't ask, but I'm offering. If we find one with Jay's help, leaving it there would be a waste, and you'll be able to spend your money on those presents. Christmas is a time for giving." Then he pauses and cants his head at Shannon's head-scratching and the momentary droop of her wings.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods, and smiles. "Well, we can always go see what's there in Salem. If we can't get a hold of Jay, is it still possible to go have a look anyways?" Perhaps the weekend would bring something to look forward to after all. And in the meantime, she had a song to learn, and another inner demon to vanquish.

Triage has posed:
"Taking Jay would help," Chris admits, "but I planed to go with or without him, and you're welcome to come with me. At least we'll have some names and models, and he can give us his thoughts. You'll also be able to start on the Christians shopping. It's never good to delay that." He looks to the sheet music and urges, "Once more, from the top."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles and nods, turning back towards the piano and resting her hands on the keys. The tempo of the song is still slower than normal performance speed, but with fewer errors than before.

"Like a small boat
On the ocean
Sending big waves
Into motion
Like how a single word
Can make a heart open
I might only have one match
But I can make an explosion...."