wanderingsin | (no subject)

Sin sighed and pushed his hair back from his face. He’d been at this for hours. The very small hours.

Working on his composition had required finding time in the production studio. And the only time available was in the dark watches of the night, between the night owls and the early birds.

He closed his battered, third-hand laptop and packed up his instruments. Dawn was coming and Sin was too tried to keep working till someone came to kick him out. He loved performing, loved playing, loved composing. But he had little love for most of his fellow students.

The majority of the other students came from money, from generations of musicians and native Florentines. To them, he was a gutter rat. A talented gutter rat but trash all the same. No-one said it aloud but the way they looked at him, with either pity or disgust. Or lust. At least the lust he knew how to deal with. Or in this case, avoid.

He packed his gear away, locking the few things he owned that were worth anything in the lockers. At least that one thing he could trust in – musicians don’t mess with other musician’s instruments.

He walked down to the river just as the sun was rising, finding a seat were he could watch the dawn.

He was so tired but he only had a few weeks before his composition was due. And he would need time to practice with the other members of the quartet before he performed it in front of his assessors.

And he really wanted to be able to enjoy the biennale ball without feeling guilty that he should be working. He pulled his knees up under him on the park bench, resting his chin on them and fighting the urge to close his eyes.

He should go find some coffee. In just a moment.

He’s just going to sit here for a couple more minutes...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

cook_the_rude

Nearby, somebody clears his throat.

From:

wanderingsin

Sin doesn't react at once, his eyes lost in some distance. He blinks and shakes himself, still not noticing Hannibal. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Not a good idea to fall asleep here," comes the voice of Dr. Fell.

From:

wanderingsin

"Dr Fell." Sin almost trips over himself to stand up. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't asleep. I think I just got lost in my head again." He glances at his watch.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Sometimes, one's own head is a pleasant place to get lost in," Dr. Fell says, smiling. "As long as the pickpockets don't get a chance."

With so many tourists around, Florence is ripe with those.

From:

wanderingsin

"Some times." He mutters absently. "Not always."

He pushes his hair back from his face, folding his glasses and tucking them away. He usually wears contacts but there are time they're just too much trouble.

"To be honest, Dr Fell, I have nothing on me a pickpocket would bother with." Not even any change.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Then let me invite you to some early espresso," Dr. Fell says. "I was just getting one anyway."

From:

wanderingsin

Sin pushes his hair back again, a tangle curly mess. "Thank you, I'd like that very much." He pulls himself up, smoothing down his rumbled shirt.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Do you have a preference, or will you just follow me through the alleys until we find an espresso bar that's open?"

From:

wanderingsin

"I'm happy to be guided by you, sir. The espresso bar I usually haunt is over by the conservatorium and most likely won't be open for another hour or two."

From:

cook_the_rude

"We can't have you haunting the empty streets until then," Dr. Fell says, leading the way up the ancient walled embankment. "I like it down here," he says as he walks. "Only in a few spots can you get so close to the river in the city."

From:

wanderingsin

Sin smiles absently. "Where should this music be? Aye' the air or the earth? It sounds no more, and sure, it waits upon some god o' the island.."

He heaves a sigh. "This music crept by me upon the waters, allaying both their fury and my passion. With its sweet air: thence I have found it, or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone." He imbues the words with such sadness.

From:

cook_the_rude

"Then follow me, lovely Ariel," Dr. Fell says, turning his head to smile at Sin. In the morning sun, there is a red glint in his deep, maroon eyes.

From:

wanderingsin

"Does that make you Prospero, Dr Fell?" Sin asks, following at his side, looking up into those strangely beautiful eyes. "Grown powerful but lonely in exile."

From:

cook_the_rude

"It well might," Dr. Fell says, softly. "Even though I haven't yet found an entire island of spirits to command."

From:

wanderingsin

"And yet I have seen you command a lecture theatre with the power of your voice alone."

Sin scuffs his feet as he walks, chasing a stone over the cobbles. "In truth, I've always identified more with Caliban. He was beloved and happy till those from outside made him a freak by majority view. Society makes monsters of us all at one time or anothe. By being on the wrong side of invisible lines, we are relegated from us to them."

From:

cook_the_rude

"Oh, surely you can't see yourself as a monster, even if you may be considered an outsider from mainstream society, as a genderfluid boho creative. Believe me, dear Sinric, it is your kind rather than the drab businessman that carries our world into the future."

From:

wanderingsin

"A foreign scholarship student in a school full of wealthy Florentines."

His eyes flicker to the doctor's face, his expression guarded as his steps falter, pulling away from Dr Fell. "I don't use my full name."

Suddenly the idea of walking the alleys with this man seems far less safe or wise.

From:

cook_the_rude

"What would you like me to call you, then?" Dr. Fell says, sounding gentle and contrite. "I do like to give my friends what they ask for."

Beat, as he turns a corner.

"Oh, look, they are already open -- excellent!"

A lighted sign over the door of a hole-in-the-wall espresso bar, crouching beside a once-grand entrance to a tall, grey, ancient building, pronounces that Illy brand coffee is served here.

From:

wanderingsin

Sin lingers at the corner, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. "I go by Sin." He answers softly, looking very much like flight is about to win the battle of over his reflexes.

From:

cook_the_rude

Some early patron opens the door and steps out, the scent of coffee following him.

"Sin," Dr. Fell says, as softly, as he strides towards the espresso bar.

From:

wanderingsin

Sin hesitates, caught between the fear he was right about Dr. Fell being a creeper and the headache building in his temples.

At least in the espresso bar, there will be people and he can always call for help. Cautiously, he follows Dr. Fell inside.

From:

cook_the_rude

It is a very small place with deep red walls, populated by the barista and a number of early bird patrons, on stools along the bar as well as three tiny tables. A middle-agedd couple gets up from one of those as they enter, and Dr. Fell nods at it.

"What do you want to drink?" he asks, thereby offering to fetch their coffee from the bar as the barista is fully occupied with operating the huge, complex machine behind the bar which looks like some steampunk apparatus of world domination.

From:

wanderingsin

The close red walls and the smell of coffee steam give the place a strangely safe feeling. Like a a caffeine addict's womb. "A doppio please?" If he's going to start the day, he might as well start with a good kick.

He slides onto one of the stools at the table, his hand brushing over his inner pocket to check his phone is still there.

From:

cook_the_rude

Dr. Fell turns to the bar, order, pays, waits.

He turns around to smile at Sin, and then finally returns, with two small cups of very strong espresso, and two glasses of water, as well as the obligatory free sweet, an tiny amarettino cookie in this case.