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Post by fitz on Apr 16, 2009 14:31:59 GMT -5
“Well nice ta meet ya, Fitz. I’m not sure, exactly, why I’m here. I finished my selling in Queens and just decided The Bronx needed exploring. And then I came upon you and, well, I already told you why I sat down… So what about you, what are you doing here, Fitz?”
Fitz shrugged, and thought for a moment. He had not come here to be alone, he was already alone much of the time. He didn't usually come here to think. He thought enough anywhere else as it was. "I have no reason," he said simply. "I just came here by chance..." He had nothing else to tell her. He couldn't tell her he was always alone and it didn't matter where he was. He couldn't say he didn't care where he was, that it didn't matter where he was because he had nowhere to be.
“You come over from the old country? From Ireland?”
It was a simple question, but Fitz felt as if he could answer it two ways. Yes, he was from Ireland. But no, he wasn't from Ireland. He decided to answer in the most literal way possible. "Yes. I came over from Ireland. You did as well?"
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Post by Nike Kennedy on Apr 16, 2009 14:47:43 GMT -5
"I have no reason. I just came here by chance..."
She frowned a little, realizing for the first time just how difficult this was going to be. “Fair enough, I’ve done that before too. But why the look on ya face?” She paused, then added, “If ya don’ wanna answer, I understand. There’s things in my past I don like talking about neither…”
"Yes. I came over from Ireland. You did as well?"
“Well yeah, but not really,” she laughed at her own confusing answer. “I lived in Ireland for until I was nine,” she explained, “but then we moved to my mother’s homeland of Holland for a few years. I came to America almost 4 years ago now...” She trailed off, wincing inwardly at the painful memories associated with that day.
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Post by fitz on Apr 16, 2009 14:59:18 GMT -5
“Fair enough, I’ve done that before too. But why the look on ya face? If ya don’ wanna answer, I understand. There’s things in my past I don like talking about neither…”
He paused for a long time. He wanted to tell her something. She had been too kindly for him to ignore her, or to be unyielding. He sighed after a moment. "I want to play the violin," he said. "I used to play. In Ireland. But since I came here, I haven't been able to play, and I want to very much." He didn't know where he would find one, and if he did he would be unable to buy it and probably unable to buy it.
“Well yeah, but not really. I lived in Ireland for until I was nine, but then we moved to my mother’s homeland of Holland for a few years. I came to America almost 4 years ago now...”
"You are Dutch," he said, and the beginnings of a smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth. "My parents were both from Poland." There was something comforting about being in the company of someone who was like him: from Ireland, but not Irish, per se. In Nike's case, she probably had some Irish blood, whereas Fitz did not. The only thing Irish about him was his name.
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Post by Nike Kennedy on Apr 16, 2009 15:45:51 GMT -5
"I want to play the violin. I used to play. In Ireland. But since I came here, I haven't been able to play, and I want to very much."
So that was what his fingers had been doing, remembering the violin. “I’m sorry,” she said simply, feeling helpless. “I wish I could help you, but I’ll keep on the lookout for cheep violins for sale.” She smiled, hoping, nay, praying that she found one. Of course, she could always just steal one…but Fitz might not take too kindly to that idea, so she kept it to herself. “My father used to play the violin too,” she admitted, wincing again, “which pieces were ya favourite?”
"You are Dutch. My parents were both from Poland."
“1/4th Dutch, 1/4th Greek, and ½ Irish, actually. I’m a mixed breed, I guess,” she replied, laughing. “Poland, huh? So how long’d ya live in Ireland for?” That would explain why she hadn’t been able to place the accent, she’d never met someone from Poland before.
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Post by fitz on Apr 16, 2009 16:02:55 GMT -5
“I’m sorry, I wish I could help you, but I’ll keep on the lookout for cheep violins for sale.”
He nodded. "Thank you," he said, even though he knew that he could barely earn enough money to feed himself every day. He would make whatever he could, and find at the end of the day he had no more than what he started with: just enough to buy newspapers again for the next day and start all over again. He could, he supposed, go a day a week without food. But it would still take him a long time to buy a violin, even if there was a cheap one that he or Nike could find. "Thank you kindly, but I have not found one yet."
“My father used to play the violin too, which pieces were ya favourite?”
"Bach's partitas," he said immediately. They were challenging, and that was what he loved about him. "I was learning Tartini's sonata in G minor--the Devil's Trill sonata--when I...I had to stop playing." It was the most challenging piece of music Fitz had ever laid eyes on. He had barely puzzled through the entire sonata once before everything had happened. He could remember it well, the parts he had learned, and it was a dream of his to learn it and play it as well as Tartini himself.
“1/4th Dutch, 1/4th Greek, and ½ Irish, actually. I’m a mixed breed, I guess,” she replied, laughing. “Poland, huh? So how long’d ya live in Ireland for?”
"My parents went with me to Ireland only a few months after I was born," he said. He would have gone on, but he was afraid of boring her, or else giving away too much information.
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Post by Nike Kennedy on Apr 16, 2009 18:32:20 GMT -5
"Thank you. Thank you kindly, but I have not found one yet."
“Well, no worries, boyo, we’ll find you one.” She was confident they would, but then again, she was almost always confident… “And if we can’t, I might know of a couple people in da music business who might allow ya to play one of theirs every now and then, jus’ ta get the itch outta ya system.”
"Bach's partitas. I was learning Tartini's sonata in G minor--the Devil's Trill sonata--when I...I had to stop playing."
Nike could hear the pain in his voice, but didn’t address it. “Bach has always been one of my favourites, my father used to play his lullabies to help me and my brother sleep.” She saw again the picture in her head. The one she’d played over and over again after the separation: a single candle on the nightstand, Nike and Styx tucked snuggly into their beds, her father sitting in his chair playing softly as they dozed off. Swallowing the lump in her throat and continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Tartini, but the Devil's Trill sonata?! That sounds kinda difficult.”
"My parents went with me to Ireland only a few months after I was born."
“Are you…were…” She smiled at him apologetically, “were you an only child?” She didn’t want to pry into Fitz’s obviously painful past, but her natural curiosity was kicking in and she honestly couldn’t help herself. She figured if she asked too much he’d let her know, no harm done, right? Right…
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Post by fitz on Apr 16, 2009 20:29:13 GMT -5
“Well, no worries, boyo, we’ll find you one. And if we can’t, I might know of a couple people in da music business who might allow ya to play one of theirs every now and then, jus’ ta get the itch outta ya system.”
Fitz jumped at the proposition. "You do? You know someone who will allow me to play?" His entire persona changed: his face was brightened with a small smile, and his eyes absolutely glowed. "Will you take me? Please?" He knew he might have been making a fool of himself, but he didn't quite care. The violin was his passion, it always had been. It was the only world he knew, and he yearned for it back. If he could play--one piece--he would be satisfied. It was as if music was his vice.
“Bach has always been one of my favourites, my father used to play his lullabies to help me and my brother sleep.”
Fitz was interested. "Your father--was he a good musician?" He wondered if it was impossible for Nike to be related to a man he'd heard of. His own father had always spoke of other musicians, the great virtuosos that lived nearby. But Fitz also wondered if Nike's past was as painful for her as his was for him. He would have to be careful asking questions, as she was. It was strange--two people, born into the music of the violin, raised in Ireland, and encumbered with tragedies in their past.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Tartini, but the Devil's Trill sonata?! That sounds kinda difficult.”
"Yes, yes, it is!" he said. The subject of music caused an immediate change in Fitz, and it was blatantly noticeable. "The piece has many difficult trills, nearly impossible. The notes go like this," he held up a hand and fluttered it quickly, "and one after the other...it is absolutely beautiful, however. If I can play the violin again, I will play for you."
“Are you…were…were you an only child?”
"I was," he said with a nod. There was no time for his parents to have any more children. "You are not, though. You mentioned a brother."
(Sorry for any errors, the spell check's not working.)
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Post by Nike Kennedy on Apr 16, 2009 22:36:14 GMT -5
((it’s all good. I usually type my answers in Word then paste them into the reply box. The spell check is better lol))
"You do? You know someone who will allow me to play? Will you take me? Please?"
Nike laughed excitedly at his enthusiasm, “Haha Keep your alan wickers on, boyo! Yeah, Styx and me became friends with this lady who owns a music shop in [[not sure yet…]] before we became newsies. She’ll let ya play her instruments if ya can play nicely and are really careful.” The twins used to go in there and play duets on pianos and violins in exchange for supper (and a bed if it was raining).
"Your father--was he a good musician?"
She had to think about that one…”Well, we thought he was a good musician, but we were only twelve when… Well, we were a bit biased when in came to our father’s playing if ya know what I mean,” she winked. “But I do remember people coming to our house in Amsterdam to hear him play, so I guess he was.”
"Yes, yes, it is! The piece has many difficult trills, nearly impossible. The notes go like this," he held up a hand and fluttered it quickly, "and one after the other...it is absolutely beautiful, however.”
Nike grinned and sat up facing him, crossing her legs as she listed to his enthusiastic recount of the difficult violin piece.
“If I can play the violin again, I will play for you."
She clapped excitedly at the promise. “Oh! That would be wonderful! Styx an’ me both like playing the piano more than the violin, and were nevah as good at it. I’ve missed hearing it’s music! Would you play Pachelbel's canon in d major for me? Me an Styx could play the accompanying violins!”
"I was. You are not, though. You mentioned a brother."
She nodded her head and grinned again, “yeah, my twin brother Christopher! I nick named him Styx ‘cause he keeps almost dying in stupid stunts! Greek mythology an all that” Nike was almost surprised at how much fun she was having talking with Fritz. She hadn’t known what to expect form him at first, but now she was very glad she had stopped to help him. If, in fact she was helping…
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Post by fitz on Apr 19, 2009 21:17:58 GMT -5
“Haha Keep your alan wickers on, boyo! Yeah, Styx and me became friends with this lady who owns a music shop in [[not sure yet…]] before we became newsies. She’ll let ya play her instruments if ya can play nicely and are really careful.”
Fitz nodded quickly. "I will treat it like my own," he swore. His father had taught him that mistreating an instrument was nothing short of a crime. Something that could create something so wonderful should be treasured. "And I say humbly that I play very well. I had an excellent teacher." He stopped there. He didn't particularly enjoy telling people about his music tutor, and so Nike, as kind as she was, would not know either for the time being.
"Well, we thought he was a good musician, but we were only twelve when… Well, we were a bit biased when in came to our father’s playing if ya know what I mean. But I do remember people coming to our house in Amsterdam to hear him play, so I guess he was.”
With a nod, Fitz said, "My father used to play whenever we had our neighbors over. We would have parties all the time--my mother, she loved being the hostess of large parties. And after dinner we would all crowd in the main room, and everyone would ask my father to play. And then, when I was older, they asked me to accompany him." Fitz smiled warmly at the memory. It didn't hurt as much when you shared it, he observed.
“Oh! That would be wonderful! Styx an’ me both like playing the piano more than the violin, and were nevah as good at it. I’ve missed hearing it’s music! Would you play Pachelbel's canon in d major for me? Me an Styx could play the accompanying violins!”
"Pachelbel's Canon? Of course! I know the piece by heart. My father and I played a duet for a family one Christmas. He--haha--he allowed me the lead violin, even though that year I was still slightly inexperienced. At the very end of the song, my bow scratched so loudly--terrible, terrible sound. But everyone laughed and applauded. I felt--I felt wonderful. I always do, when I play."
“yeah, my twin brother Christopher! I nick named him Styx ‘cause he keeps almost dying in stupid stunts! Greek mythology an all that”
Fitz shook his head at the unfamiliar term. "I'm afraid I was never taught anything about that. What is it?
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Post by Nike Kennedy on Apr 23, 2009 19:48:03 GMT -5
"I will treat it like my own. And I say humbly that I play very well. I had an excellent teacher."
Nike nodded and grinned. She had no doubt about that, she’d merely stated it because it really was one of the rules.
"My father used to play whenever we had our neighbors over. We would have parties all the time--my mother, she loved being the hostess of large parties. And after dinner we would all crowd in the main room, and everyone would ask my father to play. And then, when I was older, they asked me to accompany him."
“It was the same with us!” Nike laughed. “Though we were too young to really accompany him, he let us pretend sometimes. Everyone thought it was a real hoot! And my ma, she used ta go crazy cleanin the house and such. Of course, my brother and I weren’t much help. ‘Fraid we only gave her more work to do.” Nike smiled fondly at the memories.
"Pachelbel's Canon? Of course! I know the piece by heart. My father and I played a duet for a family one Christmas. He--haha--he allowed me the lead violin, even though that year I was still slightly inexperienced. At the very end of the song, my bow scratched so loudly--terrible, terrible sound. But everyone laughed and applauded. I felt--I felt wonderful. I always do, when I play."
She giggled, picturing the scene in her head. “Well, I look forward to it then!” It was her favorite piece of music, aside from Clare de Lune, and she could listen to it over and over again without getting tired of it.
"I'm afraid I was never taught anything about that. What is it?”
Nike smacked her head with her hand. Of course he wouldn’t know anything about Greek mythology, Fitz was polish! She felt extremely foolish for assuming that everyone knew the stories of the ancient Greek, they were so familiar to her. “The stories of the ancient Greeks, boyo! Well, you know what mythology is, yeah? Gods, heroes and such?” If he knew that much, it would be easy to tell him the stories.
While she spoke, she glanced over at the river and noticed how low the sun had gotten. “Oh!” Styx would be worried sick! “I’m sorry, Fitz, but I have ta go! I promised my brother I’d be back at the lodging house before dark and the sun is already almost gone!” She hopped up and then reached down to offer him a hand up. “I’ll be back to take you to the music store and I’ll tell you the stories then, yeah? Of course if you get impatient you can always come see me in Queens.” She grinned at him.
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Post by roulette on May 22, 2009 19:13:11 GMT -5
[[NEW DAY]]
Roulette was going crazy. She had to steal something. She didn't care what it was, just so long as it was something.
No, she didn't have a problem. Nope. Not at all.
She growled under her breath, kicking at the sand in frustration, beginning to think that it'd have been easier to stay in Boston after all.
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Post by tumble on May 22, 2009 19:39:10 GMT -5
Tumbler walked along, a big grin on his face. He just kept walking and walking, not stopping his little boots anywhere. He had already sold his newspapers, they had flown out of his hands that day like candy in a jar.
The best thing was, an older Manhattan Newsie, Watch, had went off to play a poker game and had given the young newsie his gold pocket watch to keep watch over for the day. Watch knew everybody knew about his grand pocket watch, and any newsie he played poker with died to get it, and of course any valuables had to be added to the pot after you ran out of money to stay in the game.
Tumbler loved looking down at the shiny little watch, made him feel older and just worth more. If Watch gave it to him to watch, it must mean Watch trusted him, and that made Tumbler feel good. He looked around and stopped, scratching his head. Oops, he had walked right on into the Bronx. He sighed, figuring he might as well make a day out of it. Jack had told him Bronx wasn't as bad a borough, Tumbler hoped that was true.
He didn't want to stay on the streets, he found his way after awhile to calmer areas with grass and trees, and eventually the river side, he smiled and shut his brown eyes as he stood listening to the river, it really was peaceful.
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Post by roulette on May 22, 2009 19:48:42 GMT -5
Rou looked up, her eyes narrowed as a young boy, around 7 or 8, wandered toward her. Normally, she wouldn't have minded. She liked kids, or younger kids, seeing as she was still technically a kid herself, but not today.
She just wasn't in the mood.
At least, not until she saw what he was holding in his hands. She bit her lip. It was a gold pocket watch. And not some shoddy, messed up piece of junk either. It was shiny and not dented and glinted merrily in the sun as the boy twisted it in his hands.
Oh, to get her hands on at piece of work like that...
She watched the boy quietly from behind him as he stood looking out at the river.
Now all she had to do was wait for him to slip it into his pocket and get distracted by something else...
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Post by tumble on May 22, 2009 19:58:55 GMT -5
Tumbler made a face, scrunching up his nose, his feet felt tired now, he hadn't walked that long in awhile and his boots certainly let him know, he sank to sit in the grass, listening to the river and admiring the pocket watch in his ink stained hand, whistling a little melody Mush was always humming.
The sun felt good on his face, the grass soft. Tumbler yawned, he had woken up early that morning like usual, and he usually got sleeepy in the afternoon. He rubbed his eyes, not seeming to be able to stop yawning. Finally, his eyelids drooping, he laid down in the grass, putting his dark brown hat over his eyes, yawning one last time, before his breathing slowed and the young newsie drifted off to sleep, still clutching the pocket watch in his fist.
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Post by roulette on May 22, 2009 20:59:25 GMT -5
Rou watched as the boy yawned and laid down on the grass, seemingly going to sleep, the pocket watch clenched in his hand, mocking her.
Did she dare risk it? Was it worth another night in jail? Was it supposed to rain today? All the important questions, of course.
If she did it right, she'd be up and gone before he was even on his feet to chase after her.
Against her better judgment, but the pull too hard to resist, she edged across the grass, going as slow as possible, freezing every time he moved a fraction.
Fifteen minutes later, she was reaching out to grab the pocket watch and run, but just as she gasped the chain, her foot slipped and she fell over side ways with a yelp.
Thank you, karma!
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