(2016-08-29) Big Win
Big Win
Summary: But does it mean a much bigger loss later?
Date: 8.29.2016
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)
Players:
pied-piper..quinton..

Built in the seventies, this building is a single story that features the high ceilings and pitched roofs that were prominent in churches of that time. A river stone wall in muted browns, grays and beiges give the building a sense of character while the steeple on the other end identifies the building for what it is, The building itself is almost the shape of a cross, with the doors placed on the shorter end perpendicular to the portion of the building featuring the stonework. A faded blue and white sign, the kind that has the plastic rows of letters to display messages, announces it as the First Church of God.
Inside the building is a solemn place, long rows of padded pews facing a platform and podium where once the pastor would give his sermon. Hymnals and bibles still sitting in their bins built into the backs of each pew. A piano sits to one side of the stage, and risers show where the choir might have sang in early morning worship.
The longer wing of the building houses Sunday school rooms, with the children's rooms sporting bright depictions of old testament scenes done in cheery colors. The adult rooms sport white boards and chairs, giving a more business like feel to the place.

The morning sun is just barely peeking over the eastern horizon and it is already promising to be a hot day. The streets are quiet, even the guards on the wall aren't particularly chatty this morning. This makes the strains of piano music coming from the church on Chestnut street much easier to here. Sound carries quite well on hot, clear mornings. The doors of the church stand open, to let in the fresh air in. That is where Piper can be found, she has escaped the infirmary and made her way here. She sits at the piano in the glow of jar candles that sit on its top, amongst the contents of her backpack, her flute, jewelry box, assorted sheet music, her guitar is near at hand as well. She rocks back and forth to the music she plays, a barefoot pressing the piano pedal.

Like her name, the music draws the poet to her. He was going to try to plan some things out, but wanted to scavenge and clear his head before bringing Devon to talk to people. The two men have been seen around, but they're not eating with the group,. preferring to gather their own foods. But currently Quin is by himself, dressed in jeans and a thin t-shirt. It's unfortunately too hot for a sweater, he's still not figured out why he keeps wanting to wear one. The poet leans again the door frame, trying to not make any noise as he listens with a tilted head.

The tune could be familiar depending on how thorough the brain wipe was. It is one of Piper's own compositions and she has played it several times around him in the past. Her playing isn't perfect, she makes the occasional mistake, but she corrects and keeps right on going. There are moments when the tune changes, measures of melancholic notes followed by a soothing melody and then back to the original tune. Going where the music takes her. Piper is unaware of her audience she is in the zone, where music is the only thing that exists and the world is imaginary.

It sounds familiar, but that cold be anything. Quin doesn't trust his memory anymore. But the music is doing it's magic, making his body relax, his mind calms. The stress and worry about the mission, the worry that the camp is just going to turn on Devon and he ebbs away for now. Even his hungry tummy settle. He'll feed it later.

<FS3> Pied-Piper rolls Piano: Success.

<FS3> Pied-Piper rolls Alertness: Good Success.

The tune continues for a minute or so more slowing to a gentle and hopeful conclusion. Piper's hands still for only a few moments as she moves her head slightly as if she heard something that isn't supposed to be there. Focus then goes back to the piano keys and she is coaxing another song from the instrument, which is starting to become out of tune, but probably only those with a musical ear would notice. The song she now plays is much more familiar and mainstream back before the aliens arrived, Yellow. A clue that she is aware that she has an audience and perhaps who it is even.

Quinton realizes he's probably being a creeper. That brings a small frown to his face and he pushes off the door frame. A low, "Sorry." Can be heard and he'll start to turn to leave. Last they talked wasn't the best, the guilt from things not in his control still there. How could it not be?

The music abruptly stops at the apology and Piper is turning on the bench "Wait." she calls out "Don't…" she has been so verbose lately, today not so much or maybe she just doesn't know quite what to say "No apolo-gies. No reason." she knows he feels guilty, but has no clue why he does or should be, "Stay?"

Quinton doesn't quite know what to say either, but he does stop, turning back to look to her. Pale eyes stupid the tiny woman before he offers, "You're really good." He heard her sing before, but apparently she's got all the music talents. He’s full on beard now, he hates it, but finding a razor seems pointless currently. Maybe that will be his treat to himself if they take down the mothership. Shaving. And all the booze he can find. "Were you a musician before?"

There is a shake of head, her wild and free hair billowing around her face "Better on…" and her arm stretches so she can brush fingers across the flute case sitting on top of the piano. "Yes. Sometimes I am the music." fingers play a note, than another before they still "I need music, like you need poetry, like air to breath, water to drink, it burns in my soul, screaming for release, for black notes to fill the lined page, until it burns no more, and my soul is free." more an artist of musical notes than words, but the sentiment in them is unmistakable.

Quinton folds his arms before leaning against the doorframe. He nods slowly, understanding that fire. "I had a professor once throw away an entire notebook of my poems. He told me to stop pretending to be a poet." Quin doesn't seem upset by this, intact there's a small smile tugging at a corner of his mouth, "it took some hurt feelings, but when it was all done and over, I wasn't a poet." his green eyes seem to be catching the first light of sunrise, "I was a poem."

She was certainly the music a few minutes ago, as he watched her play, and now as Piper watches him standing there and tell his anecdote she can see it, the embers burning. Or is it her imagination "And what are we now?" she asks as she moves to get up and move closer to him so as not to have to speak so loudly across the church sanctuary "Broken melodies…couplets out of rhyme?"

Quinton chuckles, his head shaking slightly before looking over his shoulder towards the morning. "We are whatever we want to be." that's strangly positive for the man. He looks back at her, his familiar soft smile, "Music, poem….There's no such thing as broken." He'd not have said that a few months ago.

Piper seems to be moving and doing fine physically, much better than she has been. Perhaps she has gone through the worst of it and her chest wound is on the mend. Mentally, well she seems fine for the moment, the music having worked its magic for now. Her statement has her looking at him the question on her face, but she comments first "Mosaics?" how many times did she tell him that is what he was…she lost track "What do you want to be?" there is a touch of sadness in her voice, as if she doesn't believe the words…or at least not when applied to her.

The question has him thinking and then nodding, "Maybe." He has no idea the significance behind the word. "At peace. Whole. Useful…" He frowns, that's probably not what she meant, but .. "Not tired." Pale eyes flicker back over his shoulder. He's either watching the sunrise or making sure they're no one else out there currently. He's at least vigilant, that's not changed. "What do you want to be, Piper?"

She is none of those things, hasn't been for a long time, but she has to agree on the one part "Not tired would be good." that isn't what he asked her though and for once since the name was given to her she bristles at its use, "Savannah." her birth name, is she giving that knowledge back to him or is it the answer to his question? "The chances grow slimmer to be what I want, so I choose what I was." she just doesn't know if she can grow that cold and uncaring again.

Quinton looks back, surprised. There's a flash of something else mixed in there, but hard to ready. "Okay. Savannah." And then that soft smile, "It suites you better." But then she's choosing something he doesn't follow, but can see it's upsetting her. "I told you I would fix this. I will. You and Quinn will be safe. I promise." How can he promise that?

At least someone is sure. She certainly isn't, Piper doesn't seem to fit but neither does Savannah. Her eyes drop a moment, "I don't know how." how it suites her better that is. Her gaze softens at his adamant reassurance and she nods "I never doubted that." isn't that what he has always done… "Somethings don't change, no matter how hard someone tries."

Quinton raises an eyebrow but then answers her, "Your eyes. They look like a Savannah's." He's still not following, so he unfolds his arms. The sunrise is starting to slip into the room around him. "I can't fix what's happened, but I will make it better." He doesn't know what she means about things not changing now. He's not following her. "I'm not going to try to do it. I am going to stop them. Everyone will be safe then. You and Quinn will be."

Eyes widen at that, the unusually large pupils shrinking as the morning light begins to fill the sanctuary and fall on her, "You knew….tell me about her." hope springs in Piper's chest, but she tries to keep it down. She has been disappointed to many times when things he has said leads nowhere. There is a brief look back to the piano and the objects on top of it before returning to him. What he has said after that is noted but deemed less important than the thing about Savannah.

maybe it's stress. Maybe it's the hope it her voice. Maybe he remembers something, or maybe it's just the memory from the wall. His head gives the tiniest of shakes, his brow furrowed. Fingers twitch at his sides before he raises then to cradle her face. The poet is looking at her eyes, not into them. There's not connection yet, he's just studying them.

She is about to speak again when his hands come up, and whatever she was going to say dies on her lips. Piper's head tilts slightly into his hands. She doesn't know what he is looking for, but she remains silent, eyes wide and unblinking to the point of tears as he searches them. After a few moments she does whisper "Yes." but is it in connection to the shake of his head or is there a deeper meaning?

Pale eyes go to her lips when she whispers, and a tremble goes through his body. That pained, frustrated expression flickers across his face, "I hate this…" That isn't the best start, but he continues, "I feel so damn comfortable with you, but I can't remember." Another head shake, "I want to kiss you, but I don't want to hurt you…I don't want you to think…" He looks up, finally connecting with her eyes, with her, "I don't remember…but I want to."

There are worse ways to start, and Piper has had similar thoughts over the last few weeks so there is no insult from it only understanding. Her hand lifts to cover one of his "Think what? That you remember? Having feelings for me?" she could go on with what she could think "To late." she knows the score and so far she is losing. The hand drops from his to go to his heart "Try with that." she can't do anything about his memories, but she can do something about the kissing, she can give him that at least. He can see it coming as she lifts to her tiptoes to press her lips to his. Maybe she won't cry this time!

With a poet's heart? Is she mad? More trembles, he doesn't think he used to tremble so much. Quin's jaw opens to respond, but when her hand presses into his chest, his pounding heart can be felt. Yes, he sees it coming. He could move away. He's bigger than her. But instead he leans forward, his hands still caressing her face. It's tentative, the ways a first kiss would be. The one by the wall doesn't count, he barely had time to register it. Yes, she must be mad. A poet's heart.

Well the jury is still out on Piper's sanity, even she questions it sometimes. At the moment, totally crazy..like a fox. That doesn't mean it won't backfire horribly on her at some point in the future, but seeing as how at the moment their days are numbered, she will take her chances. She can't be hurt any more than she already has been, right? Her hand stays where it is, feeling the pounding of the heart beneath it, but besides the hand and mouths that's the only contact that she instigates. Her lips linger though, giving him the choice as to when to break it off.

Quinton stops to take a breath, his nose lightly touching the side of hers. The poet's eyes are closed, like he's afraid to look at her. The pounding of his heart has not evened out or calmed, it may have increased some. A brief flash of worry, he's not sure why, "Was…was that okay?" Like there might be a reason it might not be? Stupid brain.

She is the one that kissed him and he is asking her…that's amusing enough to pull a slight, ghostly smile from her, it certainly flashes in her eyes. A slight nod "Yes." she replies, she wants to say more than okay, but she also doesn't want to spook him. Piper is still trying to do this on his terms and be patient about it, but with the time crunch it isn't easy to do. "No tears." she is trying to joke, bring some levity and the not crying is good. Though from her joking tone tears while crying sounds like it happened more than just the once.

Quinton's eyes open to look down at her, slightly confused like he's been left out of some joke that's not particularly funny. His breathing is a little fast and a thumb absently caresses her cheek. "I need to be ..careful, don't I?" More instinct than remembering.

"Nevermind." that ghostly smile again. That's one of the things she doesn't mind him having forgotten, because that was embarrassing for them both. She knows what he is asking her and she nods "Not as much as before, but yes." another thing she is glad he has forgotten, why he has to be careful. That was a burden she never should have given him and knows he hated.

Quinton's smart, he'll figure it out, or at least enough to come to conclusions. But right now the lanky man is looking down at a very pretty woman in his arms (hands). Unconsciously his thumbs have started to stroke her cheeks, and he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to step away. Finally a small quirk of his lips, but instead of sharing, he leans down to press another kiss to her lips, this time less hesitantly.

She seems to like the cheek caressing, pressing her face in whichever thumb is going at the moment, gently of course. Well she isn't going to tell him. Not soon anyway, and if he figures it out than they can discuss it, though she would probably rather not. Now who is the mad one. Kissing her again after admitting what he didn't want to hurt her or thinking the wrong things. Her hand on his heart fists his shirt, the other hand going to his hip as she moves a step closer. She wasn't all that hesitant before, she is less so now. Her brain is screaming danger, danger, but she isn't listening to it at the moment, she's all heart. Mad I tell you!

It's not that he doesn't want to kiss her, obviously he does. it's just complicated and confusing! He can't help a small pleased noise as she fists his shirt, instinct and the empty pace he didn't know was there till just now have him snaking a hand to the back of her head and stepping closer himself.

If the mothership were to drop its bombs now Piper would be okay with that. At least she would die with hope in her heart and in the arms of Quinton. not the worst way to go. His warmth, his scent, the hand tangling in her hair; it only encourages her to deepen the kiss, for a few moments at least. She is then ending the kiss but only to press against him and pull him into a one armed hug, the other caught between them, her hand refusing to let go of his shirt for the moment "You’re walking a dangerous path." she tells him..warns him, in a low tone. She is trembling, but it has nothing to do with fear or confusion.

Quinton’s lips chase hers as she pulls away, but then he stops, breathing through his mouth and trying to get his thoughts in order. It's so nice to hold someone, and she feels so right. Her words ring true though and he nods, his heart still pounding, "I know…I'm sorry." It shouldn't be dangerous.

Her heart is racing too and she could be a bit weak in the knees, but she would probably news admit to that. "Don't be. I'm not." no it shouldn't be dangerous, and even if the danger is crushed feelings…well that's bad too but she isn't going to let it ruin the moment, "And I started it, so no feeling guilty later." yeah she knows him. A sigh and she tightens the arm around him "I should get back, before they send search parties." she snuck out and left her guard unconscious on the floor, that can't look good "Walk with me?" she then pulls away to look up at him almost expectantly.

Quinton nods, but then pulls her in for a final kiss. She may have started it, but he finishes. After that he sighs, "Let's get you back. I still have breakfast to find." And plans to plan. And the world to save.

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