snowblindrpg | [network][Day 138|video|@hotstud_xxx] You Get What You Need [open]

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[network][Day 138|video|@hotstud_xxx] You Get What You Need [open]

[There's no pithy commentary from House as is more common for the introductions to one of his piano sessions. It's also on video at the moment because House... can't figure out how to change it to just audio. He really hates this particular effect. So, anyone in Snowhell who has yet to actually see Dr. Hotstud House will get a view of him. He's a haggard, middle-aged man who's looking closer to just plain 'aged' after more than three months in Norfinbury. He has the tablet propped up where the sheet music would usually go, and keeps his eyes down or closed as he begins to play. He mouths some of the words, brows furrowed and body swaying to the music.

He runs through that. And then, because he's not going to be able to play and 'talk' to people at the same time, he moves into another tune before stopping and checking for responses.]

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[God, again with the flowery language. It's like Shakespeare in the Park. But he shrugs and gestures to the tablet, brows raised. You're going to request something, you need to tell him what.]

[a pause, and then:]

Do you read sheet music?

[That actually gets a look of mild surprise. Does this kid have sheet music?

House nods.]

["joacin" is gone for so long that house might suspect that the boy has lost interest in the conversation entirely.

but he does come back with sheet music — handwritten though tidily so, not quite as detailed where bars are repeated, the staff lines remarkably straight but uneven enough in places that it is clear that even those are the product of several minutes' tapping at his tablet screen.]

The chords on the left hand are broken, not rolled.
It is to be played slowly, but you may interpret it as you see fit.

[and if house plays the tune as directed, it will sound rather somber and melancholy.]

Edited 2016-07-18 05:06 (UTC)

[Color House mildly impressed. He studies the sheet music for a long few seconds before beginning to play. He follows long with it as directed initially, but once he comes to the end, he improvises for another few minutes, eyes down on the keys for the most part as he plays in the same style and tempo. It's haunting, but there are brief runs of more 'hopeful' chords.

When he finishes, he tips his head to the tablet. There are very few words he knows in sign language and he doubts it will translate, but for anyone who does know, House signs 'beautiful,' mouthing the word after he spreads his palm across his face and curls his fingers down in quick succession.]

[all while house is playing francel's piece, the young lord listens with eyes closed, thinking of and trying to hold on to distant memories of better days that have long been over.

when it is finished he looks back at the tablet screen once more to find house gesturing and attempting to speak. francel has no understanding whatsoever of american sign language, but he can read exaggerated word-mouthing just fine; he finds himself oddly relieved to find that even foreigners can find ishgardian music beautiful.

and he tries not to use anything but text on the network, but words alone seem inadequate to express his gratitude, so francel's video feed flicks on for just one moment.]

...Thank you. That was an excellent rendition.

[his voice is boyish and soft-spoken. the camera is pointed toward his chest, cutting his face out of the picture; white-gloved hands clap politely in front of a fancifully cut green coat, but francel bows his head as well, bringing into the frame a glimpse of golden hair and long elfin ears before the video cuts short.

but house probably already figured that much.]

I liked your improvisations well.
Perhaps I shall take care to remember them when next I have the opportunity to practice.
I presume you have played for many years?

[House nods, and then mimes rocking a baby, followed by raising his hands and playing air piano. He pulls a bit of a face and waggles one hand.

Since he was very little, more or less.

His skills have certainly improved since then. He takes a moment to draw some quick bars of sheet music. It's just the first few notes of "Mary Had a Little Lamb." He draws an open pocket watch and question mark at the end and holds that up for Francel to see before raising his brows and tilting his head at the camera.

How long writing or playing music for you?]

[for a moment, francel is confused — he hums the music to himself before realizing that it is just a meaningless tune — but the question is clear enough once he stops to consider that it is, in fact, a question.]

the same for me, I suppose
It was required education for all of the

[nobles in ishgard, he means to write, but then he considers that that sounds somewhat pretentious.]

for everyone in my family.
But that was a fairly long time ago.
In truth, I have not laid eyes upon a harpsichord in some five or six years.

[harpsichord, he says...]

[It goes with the high fantasy theme. House is tempted to play Scarborough Faire at the kid, but there's another song in his mind. First, though, House stands and steps back, panning the video around so that Francel can see that it's not a harpsichord, but it's younger, hipper cousin.

The video gets set down again, and House returns to the bench before holding up the rough map of Norfinbury he'd drawn earlier. The school is circled, and he adds little music notes around it. If the kid wants to play, that's where the piano is.

And that wisdom conveyed, House starts off on another song that's a haunting melody.]

[it's only text communication, but all the same, francel is polite enough to wait until house is several minutes into his performance to "speak" once more.]

Exquisite.
In my youth, I once heard a similar piece in the cathedral, before mass.
...Or perhaps I merely delude myself in my nostalgia.

I fear I am too far east to join you in any timely fashion, but perhaps I could try my hand at performing for you on some future occasion.
If I don't die before then, that is.

[it occurs to francel that this man must be mute. (he's a quicker hand with the tablet than most of his fellow ishgardians, sure, but of course he hasn't bothered with going through house's past network posts.) whether by priestly vow or by accursed birthright, it does not matter — it is what it is, and he's certainly not rude enough to pry.]

Are you a musician by occupation, good sir?
Or is this but a self-indulgent pursuit?
You've certainly the skill of a professional.

[Oh, look, someone who's not an optimist! What a rare breed they are here. Well, if Mr. I'm Probably Going to Die is offering to entertain, House certainly isn't going to turn him down. He's also incredibly amused that this kid apparently hasn't looked at the guide or the fit House pitched a few days ago to get his status as a doctor taken out of it. Won't Lelly just be tickled pink to know he isn't reaching the masses?

But while House considers messing with the guy, he'll take it easy for now. He has been pleased by the sharing of good music. Such things are to be rewarded, rando-elf guy.

House shakes his head at the first question and takes a moment to flick to the page he'd drawn earlier for Natasha showing a hobby horse.]

[...

this, for some reason, prompts the response:]

Have you been talking to Haurchefant?

[... What?

House just raises a brow in confusion.]

Ah... I take it that is a no?

I am afraid I know nothing of horses save that they are beasts of burden from the Far East...
and that a friend of mine has a particular fondness for them
on account of their similarities to unicorns, perhaps..

Forgive me. Pray tell, whatever did you mean?

Edited 2016-07-26 12:23 (UTC)

[Of course Haurchefant would be 'fond' of unicorns. Of course, he would. This is going to be difficult. He sighs and takes a moment to draw and then looks up at the tablet again. He holds up one finger, then tugs on his ear, before showing his drawing.

One word, sounds like 'bobby pin.' He hopes this guy knows what a bobby pin is, at least.]

[alas, doctor house, they do not have bobby pins in Elf Fantasy Land, at least not by that name. they have hairpins, and clothespins, and scraps of wire — and so francel doesn't understand in the least.]

One... one what, exactly? Earwire? A linkpearl?

...Never mind. I can conclude that this must be a mere pastime by the mere fact that you did not simply nod.

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