run between the shadows // pafp

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    [fancypost=width:600px][align=justify][color=black]Yesterday the square had been beautiful; the beech trees at its edges ablaze with their autumn colours, the fountain in its centre sparkling in the sunlight, the cobblestones alive with footsteps and the cool air alive with voices and music. Today it was just as lovely, but all he could see was the shadows. They lurked under those bright beeches and they followed the people who came and went, dancing at their feet and pooling together like oil slicks.


    Cut that out, Will told himself, rubbing his eyes. The shadows were just shadows. He knew by now how it went; they wouldn't be here 'til tomorrow, and until then, there was no point in psyching himself out.


    Instead, he returned his attention to the small xylophone sitting on its stand in front of him. He was seated just in front of the fountain, leaning against its smooth-worn concrete, the place he had made his own for the last week or so. Taking a deep breath, he raised the mallets and began to play. Immediately the weight on his heart that had been sitting there since that morning, when he'd awoken gasping from a terrible nightmare, began to lift. A smile spread across his vulpine face- what had he ever had to worry about? The music ebbed and flowed with the footsteps of the people passing through the square, danced and glittered with the water flowing from the fountain, and rose and fell with the chilly breeze that swept over the cobblestones. It tapped into the streams of reality of this place, restoring the power that the nightmare had drained from him.


    Coins clattered into the case he'd left open in front of his instrument; Will didn't hear them. He was completely absorbed in his playing, effortless as it may have looked to passersby. After about five minutes, he leaned back, resting one arm against the cool surface of the fountain to catch his breath. The shadows had retreated; the sun seemed brighter, the air cleaner and fresher than before. It occurred to him that he'd be sad to leave this place; the energy flowed close to the surface here. That, and the hotel room he was staying in had a stand-up shower.


    He swept his hair back out of his face and started again.


    [center]---------------------------------------------------------------


    (( So what's going on? Well, I don't want to give too much away- for the most part, you're going to be learning what's going on at the same rate as your character. What I can tell you is that your character is an ordinary human is about to get caught up in Will's very extraordinary problems. The setting is, for all intents and purposes, the real world; the plot is something like urban fantasy-horror; and that's all I'll reveal to you! There will be romance, but it will be a sub-plot and not the whole point of the thread. Your character can be male or female; feel free to introduce them however you'd like, we'll have some cute getting-to-know-you conversation and then cut to the chase. (What does that imply? Wait and see!)


    What else? Our characters are currently in a small town in eastern France but will be going... well, all over the place! I don't use face claims, but here's my mental image of Will; he's 24 years old, about 5'8", average weight, shoulder-length blond hair, big brown eyes, fine features, likes to wear turtleneck sweaters, scarves and leather jackets.


    Please be a literate and at least semi-advanced roleplayer- as long as you can write posts around the same length as mine and your character is interesting, I'm good! I'm hoping for a long-term, in-depth, novel-style roleplay here, so please don't abandon it! At least three posts per week is the standard I follow and the standard I expect from my partners. That's all the guidelines I've got! Can't wait to get started. ))

    [center][size=9][font=andale mono]Hey there! Do you happen to still need someone for this? I'd definitely be interested if it's still open - and should you choose to accept, I do have a post typed up for this, but didn't want to jump in without making sure all was well. If you aren't in need of anyone, I'll just slide off into the ether.

    [center][size=9][font=andale mono]Jon had spent most of the morning successfully ignoring his problems. This was not his usual course of action, but he’d woken up with the firm conviction that it was not a good day to worry. It was his day off from work, which was a good thing. Furthermore, rent had already been paid for the month, he had three new books to read, and there was a plot that had been itching at the back of his mind for at least a week. What this meant was that he could probably afford to take a day for himself. This in turn meant that he wasn’t going to stay in the apartment. He’d packed a satchel with books and a pen, and headed for the square. There had been a xylophone player there earlier in the week; if he was fortunate, perhaps the musician would be there again.


    The wind was a bit brisk, but the sunshine was warm and he’d worn a sweater. Jon settled down under one of the beeches near the edge of the square, intending to read a bit and get comfortable before starting to write. The book should have been interesting - he’d picked it out for that purpose, really, and had been waiting for a while to have a chance to read. But the xylophone player was back, and before he could quite help it, Jon found himself just a bit distracted by the music and by the musician. This was perhaps for the best. As picturesque as the idea of reading in the square might be, it wasn’t entirely practical, and he was well aware of the fact. The wind would turn the pages of the book if he wasn’t careful, and his fingertips would grow cold and slightly numb, and the light would get in his eyes. Furthermore, when he looked down at the book the breeze would blow a mess of curly brown hair into his face, which wouldn’t be such a bother when he was reading but had to be brushed back whenever he wanted to look back up. Jon had known all of these things when he’d set out for the square. He’d gone anyway, because it really was a lovely day, and it would be a shame to waste such weather sitting in the cramped little apartment.


    The distraction happened slowly. It took a few minutes for Jon to realize that he wasn’t paying much attention to the book he’d been reading, at which point he slid his glasses back onto his face and glanced up to determine what, exactly, was distracting him. This was apparently the music - which was not wholly unexpected, since it was part of the reason why Jon had come to the square in the first place. The unexpected part came a couple minutes later, when Jon realized that he’d looked up to find whatever had been distracting him and had never gotten around to looking back down. What this meant was that he’d been staring at the xylophone player for a while, watching with steady green eyes from his place beneath the beeches. Go say hello, he told himself, and immediately rejected the thought. It seemed a bit forward, especially if the musician had noticed him watching. The young man bit his lip and looked back down at the book, flipping backward toward the last place he remembered.


    [Since you’ve been so kind as to offer up a quick description of Will, I may as well do the same for Jon. He’s twenty-two, 5'9", and a bit thin, with sharp features, green eyes, a few freckles, and chestnut brown curls to just above the shoulders. He can generally be found in sweaters or flannel shirts, and with a variety of hats. Being a bit nearsighted, he generally wears glasses when he’s not reading.]

    [center][fancypost=width:600px][align=justify][color=black]Will had the growing sense of being watched, but the presence seemed to be a benevolent one- not a nightmare, at least- so he ignored it as he played. It crept into his awareness as a slight distraction, and the spontaneous tune he'd been playing changed from the lilting chaotic notes of a babbling brook to a series of symmetrical, geometric melodies hovering in time like the grand marble arches of some soaring cathedral. Now that was something unusual. Will glanced upwards to search out the source of this unexpected inspiration, and raised one eyebrow as he saw the reader at the edge of the square quickly glance back down at his book.


    He took this opportunity to get a look at the man, more out of curiosity than anything else. He was cute, in an unassuming sort of way, Will thought. Acting on a sudden impulse, he picked up the mallets again, but this time played with purpose, and the melody quickly transformed into a quickened rendition of Pachelbel's Canon. It was one of his favourite classical pieces to play anyway, but he had picked it for another reason- it was a song that tended to get people's attention, to draw them in. And he was trying to get the attention of a certain cute brunette.

    [center][size=9][font=andale mono]When the music stopped, there was a brief rush of nervousness, and for a moment Jon was absolutely convinced that he had been seen. No, no, it just...ended, that's all. It was reaching a conclusion, so it ended. A silly thing, panicking like this. He hadn't been doing anything wrong, just watching. And now the music was beginning again, so he probably hadn't been noticed at all, which meant that there was nothing to be panicking about. Trying to calm his racing heart, Jon finally found his place in the book and continued reading, murmuring the words under his breath to get the feel of them, to try to pull himself back into the story. And it was working - until he realized that the melody had changed, and that it was now something he knew, something he recognized, accompanied by the distinct feeling that this change in music was directed at him. Was this a good thing? A bad thing? Too early to tell, too soon to know, but he'd probably been noticed which meant that the way he'd been watching had probably also been noticed, and that left him with a few options left to take. The most attractive of these was to leave and never come back. This would also have been overreacting, but for a few moments it seemed like a reasonable choice.


    This thought faded quickly, though, because the music was nice and the xylophone player was rather attractive, and Jon usually managed to talk himself out of overreacting when he was given time to think. So instead of leaving, Jon slipped a bookmark between the pages and closed the book, tucking it back into his satchel. For a little while, he simply sat and watched again, letting the familiar melody pull him in. Music was meant to be listened to, after all, so he may as well listen openly. There was no harm in such a thing.


    And now? The question was gentle, but still meant to push him into some sort of action. Very conscious of his own actions, Jon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gathered up the satchel and stood. The music was still flowing along, variation after variation, and he let himself be drawn in, drawn closer, moving steadily forward step by step until he stood near the fountain a few feet away from the xylophone player, watching the motion of his hands and the mallets.

    (Hey there. This is just a gentle reminder that this thread does exist, should you wish to return to it at some point. If you're busy at the moment, that is completely understandable, but I thought I should at least drop a line.)