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xp_logsWho: Manuel de la Rocha, Alison Blaire
Where: Music Room
When: Thursday morning
What Happens: They play music, of course? There is also empathic leakage.
---
Manuel arrived for his Music class about a half-hour early. First class of the day, and given how badly he had slept the night before, perhaps a little music would settle his jangled nerves. His CDs were gone, as was his iPod, so that left him little choice but for a little do-it-yourself musical relief. He walked through the room until he got to the Electronic Instruments section. Smiling, he flicked the synth racks over to the ON position, and also gave the amp some juice. To be considerate, he turned the volume down as far as it would go and still be legible.
She'd seen Manuel enter the music room from the end of the hallway, and only hesitated a moment before walking in the same direction as well. Her notes were always in the classroom so it wasn't as though she had anything else to pick up, and she didn't have anything to do in the time left before class was to begin. Still, she slowed down, pausing in the doorway to lean on the wooden frame instead of walking inside, knowing only too well that time alone with one's music was downright sacred.
Manuel looked at the synthesizer, and then sat down. Sighing, he absently tinkled out some chords with his right hand - his left was busy massaging his forehead, trying to fight back his omnipresent headache. Without realizing it, his right hand was tracing out one of the Chopin piano recital numbers from his youth. It was a sign of his skill that he could do it without thinking about it consciously.
It was easy to stay calm and not think, in this particular room. It was a refuge when no other place or person could be, for Alison, and as of yet this remained untouched. She smiled a bit, a flash of recognition running through her at the number Manuel was picking out on the keys absently. "Chopin," she murmured lowly - as much as she wanted to just stay where she was and not move or think, it would be rude to let her presence go unnoticed for too long. And though she might not have been worried about this in some cases, Manuel was another story.
The music stopped, and Manuel looked up. It was a sign of his distraction and preoccupation that he'd never even sensed Alison just sitting there. "Hey." he told her, unwilling to make the effort to shut down all the stuff he'd just warmed up. "Come to yell at me, or just hanging out?" he asked her.
"Why in the world would I yell at you?" she asked, blinking a bit in mild surprise. Shrugging it off she resisted the urge to move towards one of the windowsills. "Hanging out. Nothing to do until class starts," she answered easily, giving no sign at all that she felt he had to stop what he was doing. "Would you rather be left alone here until it's time for class or do you mind if I stick around?"
"I can't stop you, and this is your classroom." Manuel pointed out. He looked down at the synth, and then over to Alison. "So what's on the schedule for today?" he asked her, the fatigue plain in his voice.
"You could ask me for some time alone here and I would respect that," she answered, matter of fact, not stepping inside the room itself still. "As for today, well..." Why not, she thought? "There's a few choices - I always keep my options open depending on how I'm feeling on any given today." Even with the gradual introduction to music format she was following, she still had plenty of room for maneuvering. "Want to be the one to pick?" The offer was impulsive, but she hadn't really had her heart set on anything herself.
Manuel blinked. "If I pick, then the rest of the class will resent me for it. I don't need that kind of emotion, not today." he said with a sigh. "But if you will insist, then I think we should work unplugged today. Piano, cello, acoustic guitar, minimal kit, that sort of thing. Assuming that no-one has a major cow about it. And to avoid the having of the cow, just don't mention that it was my idea. Take the credit, it doesn't bother me at all."
"Unplugged it is," she agreed peaceably, smiling a bit at the tortuous process Manuel was putting himself through. He looked utterly exhausted though, which may be accounting for how much work was going into all that. "And as you wish." She glanced through the room, feeling that faint serene glow she associated to music played for its own sake and nothing else. "If you'd like to just play something while I go through my notes…" She pondered the thought, then glanced at the classical guitar in the far corner. "Or we play something together?"
Manuel caught the look at the guitar, and shrugged. "Why not?" he said, flicking the equipment back over to OFF and walking towards the Mansion's baby grand piano. "My guitar work is still pretty atrocious, so I'll stick to piano. You just want to improvise this, or do you have a tune in mind?"
"Improvise. Lead and I'll accompany, and then we'll see where it goes, yes?" He was tired and fatalistic, but this was music they were talking about Alison figured that if nothing else, being near someone who was very content to enjoy something as simple as an improvisation session might be soothing for him.
Manuel rallied himself, and began to play. He stuck to minor chords and long, drawn-out notes - lending his work a melancholy, almost sinister air. Yet underneath it all he kept a sense of urgency, of something looming in the distance. As he played, his eyes glowed ever-so-faintly red.
Alison felt no compunction about losing herself in the music, keeping a steady counterpart to what Manuel was playing, never noticing the faint red glow of his eyes. She'd intended to steer things towards something calmer from the start, yet for some reason instead found herself slipping into the air he was playing, a mingled sense of sadness and urgency growing within her.
Manuel, not even realizing that he was projecting, lost himself in the music. Everything that he felt- the tension, the sense of urgency, the floundering for a solution among a sea of bad choices - all of it came out in his music. He took Alison's guitar and wove it into the composition, using it as a counterpoint to his thundering piano.
Eyes half-closed, Alison cradled the guitar close and played on, the emotions he was projecting striking similar chords within - her own doubts and fears surging again to the surface. It wasn't long before she was throwing everything she had in the music as well, underscoring the main thread of the piano perfectly, completing the melody with undertones of her own.
Finally, Manuel realized that he was projecting, and brought the music to an immediate stop on his end of things. He looked at Alison and positively dripped with guilt. "I am sorry." he told her. "I ... I was projecting while I was playing. Those emotions - they are not yours. They are mine. I will report to Professor Xavier for corrective punishment after class, unless you would prefer that I go now. Or would you prefer to do it yourself?"
The abrupt stop jarred Alison out of the music harshly and she pressed a hand to the strings of the guitar to still the last, discordant note. "You..." she sorted out through the feelings running through her, hands trembling as she tried to take a mental inventory of what was going on. And yet, nothing she was feeling was anything new, or that she'd not felt keenly of late. "You're not the only one with doubts," she finally said, straightening up slightly, taking a deep breath. "Or fears. This isn't anything I haven't felt lately, even." It was a quiet admission, Alison not truly certain why she was even telling him this.
Manuel shook his head. "You did not answer my question. Would you prefer I report for punishment now, after class, or would you like to take care of it yourself?" he asked again. "Such behavior is inexcusable. I know this, you know this."
Her hands were still shaking and she took another deep breath, striving for self-control. "You're seeing the Professor already on a regular basis, aren't you?" At his nod, she continued. "Tell him the next time you see him, then." Ever so slowly she was managing to set aside the emotions that had been generated - and the ones already present. "The idea of corrective punishment for someone still learning how to use their abilities is repugnant to me."
Manuel blinked at Alison. "But that's how you learn." he said as he stood up from the piano and moved over to his things - which included his laptop. "I'll just send Charles an email now. Will you be OK for class?" he asked her, not sympathetically but not coldly, either.
"It's one way to learn," she murmured, slipping into calming breathing exercises without really thinking about it, the talk helping her despite the things it implied about Manuel's thinking processes. "Not one I go for. I'd rather learn," she paused, exhaling slowly, "or teach, for the joy of it , myself. I'll be fine for class, thank you." She'd be sending her own email to Charles about this, she thought distantly.
Manuel shrugged - he wasn't too inclined to argue the point - if Ms Blaire wanted to be lenient, then so be it. He was sure, though, that there was a hidden catch, some barb that she thought would rip through him entirely. He booted up his laptop and composed his email to Charles, then sent it. "Email is sent." he said.
She nodded at that, feeling a great deal calmer now. "Good. Would you like to have a second go at things? I think we have a bit of time left." She looked down at the guitar and wondered briefly at herself. "We might want to pick a piece to play this time around, however."
Manuel blinked. His expression said ~Are you MAD?~ but he nodded in agreement. "If you feel safe attempting it, then yes, I will play. What piece?"
She tended to agree with him on that one, truth be told - then again, she'd been told she was insane more than once anyway. "The Lyles arrangement for piano and guitar I picked up not long ago, I think. Did you have the chance to look at it yet?"
Manuel nodded. "I glanced at it. Pretty straightforward. Want to give it a go?" he said, making absolutely no move to go get sheet music or anything.
"Yes." A simple piece, no negative connotations to it and a very firm assumption on Alison's part that if he wasn't going to get the sheet music for it, it was because he felt he knew it well enough to play blind. "Shall we?"
Or he had an eidetic memory. "Let us begin." he said, sat down at the piano like he was at the Vienna Philharmonic, and began to play. The piece was virtually flawless, with only a ragged tempo late in the first movement to mar it.
The first piece, in Alison's opinion, had been far better. Power slip and all. She ran through the Lyles number in perfect counterpoint however, center and balance soon entirely restored by the exercise.
Manuel finished up the piece, and then looked at Alison. As soon as the music stopped, the mask went back up. "Thank you." he said, bowing in his chair to her. "Most people would not be so kind to me. It is almost time for class."
"You're welcome," she replied. "And yes, it is. I'd better get my notes ready." This was her music room and her class - she didn't really care about other people or what they would do, really. She rose to her feet to put the guitar back on its stand before walking to her desk to sort through her notes before the other students arrived.
--
Where: Music Room
When: Thursday morning
What Happens: They play music, of course? There is also empathic leakage.
---
Manuel arrived for his Music class about a half-hour early. First class of the day, and given how badly he had slept the night before, perhaps a little music would settle his jangled nerves. His CDs were gone, as was his iPod, so that left him little choice but for a little do-it-yourself musical relief. He walked through the room until he got to the Electronic Instruments section. Smiling, he flicked the synth racks over to the ON position, and also gave the amp some juice. To be considerate, he turned the volume down as far as it would go and still be legible.
She'd seen Manuel enter the music room from the end of the hallway, and only hesitated a moment before walking in the same direction as well. Her notes were always in the classroom so it wasn't as though she had anything else to pick up, and she didn't have anything to do in the time left before class was to begin. Still, she slowed down, pausing in the doorway to lean on the wooden frame instead of walking inside, knowing only too well that time alone with one's music was downright sacred.
Manuel looked at the synthesizer, and then sat down. Sighing, he absently tinkled out some chords with his right hand - his left was busy massaging his forehead, trying to fight back his omnipresent headache. Without realizing it, his right hand was tracing out one of the Chopin piano recital numbers from his youth. It was a sign of his skill that he could do it without thinking about it consciously.
It was easy to stay calm and not think, in this particular room. It was a refuge when no other place or person could be, for Alison, and as of yet this remained untouched. She smiled a bit, a flash of recognition running through her at the number Manuel was picking out on the keys absently. "Chopin," she murmured lowly - as much as she wanted to just stay where she was and not move or think, it would be rude to let her presence go unnoticed for too long. And though she might not have been worried about this in some cases, Manuel was another story.
The music stopped, and Manuel looked up. It was a sign of his distraction and preoccupation that he'd never even sensed Alison just sitting there. "Hey." he told her, unwilling to make the effort to shut down all the stuff he'd just warmed up. "Come to yell at me, or just hanging out?" he asked her.
"Why in the world would I yell at you?" she asked, blinking a bit in mild surprise. Shrugging it off she resisted the urge to move towards one of the windowsills. "Hanging out. Nothing to do until class starts," she answered easily, giving no sign at all that she felt he had to stop what he was doing. "Would you rather be left alone here until it's time for class or do you mind if I stick around?"
"I can't stop you, and this is your classroom." Manuel pointed out. He looked down at the synth, and then over to Alison. "So what's on the schedule for today?" he asked her, the fatigue plain in his voice.
"You could ask me for some time alone here and I would respect that," she answered, matter of fact, not stepping inside the room itself still. "As for today, well..." Why not, she thought? "There's a few choices - I always keep my options open depending on how I'm feeling on any given today." Even with the gradual introduction to music format she was following, she still had plenty of room for maneuvering. "Want to be the one to pick?" The offer was impulsive, but she hadn't really had her heart set on anything herself.
Manuel blinked. "If I pick, then the rest of the class will resent me for it. I don't need that kind of emotion, not today." he said with a sigh. "But if you will insist, then I think we should work unplugged today. Piano, cello, acoustic guitar, minimal kit, that sort of thing. Assuming that no-one has a major cow about it. And to avoid the having of the cow, just don't mention that it was my idea. Take the credit, it doesn't bother me at all."
"Unplugged it is," she agreed peaceably, smiling a bit at the tortuous process Manuel was putting himself through. He looked utterly exhausted though, which may be accounting for how much work was going into all that. "And as you wish." She glanced through the room, feeling that faint serene glow she associated to music played for its own sake and nothing else. "If you'd like to just play something while I go through my notes…" She pondered the thought, then glanced at the classical guitar in the far corner. "Or we play something together?"
Manuel caught the look at the guitar, and shrugged. "Why not?" he said, flicking the equipment back over to OFF and walking towards the Mansion's baby grand piano. "My guitar work is still pretty atrocious, so I'll stick to piano. You just want to improvise this, or do you have a tune in mind?"
"Improvise. Lead and I'll accompany, and then we'll see where it goes, yes?" He was tired and fatalistic, but this was music they were talking about Alison figured that if nothing else, being near someone who was very content to enjoy something as simple as an improvisation session might be soothing for him.
Manuel rallied himself, and began to play. He stuck to minor chords and long, drawn-out notes - lending his work a melancholy, almost sinister air. Yet underneath it all he kept a sense of urgency, of something looming in the distance. As he played, his eyes glowed ever-so-faintly red.
Alison felt no compunction about losing herself in the music, keeping a steady counterpart to what Manuel was playing, never noticing the faint red glow of his eyes. She'd intended to steer things towards something calmer from the start, yet for some reason instead found herself slipping into the air he was playing, a mingled sense of sadness and urgency growing within her.
Manuel, not even realizing that he was projecting, lost himself in the music. Everything that he felt- the tension, the sense of urgency, the floundering for a solution among a sea of bad choices - all of it came out in his music. He took Alison's guitar and wove it into the composition, using it as a counterpoint to his thundering piano.
Eyes half-closed, Alison cradled the guitar close and played on, the emotions he was projecting striking similar chords within - her own doubts and fears surging again to the surface. It wasn't long before she was throwing everything she had in the music as well, underscoring the main thread of the piano perfectly, completing the melody with undertones of her own.
Finally, Manuel realized that he was projecting, and brought the music to an immediate stop on his end of things. He looked at Alison and positively dripped with guilt. "I am sorry." he told her. "I ... I was projecting while I was playing. Those emotions - they are not yours. They are mine. I will report to Professor Xavier for corrective punishment after class, unless you would prefer that I go now. Or would you prefer to do it yourself?"
The abrupt stop jarred Alison out of the music harshly and she pressed a hand to the strings of the guitar to still the last, discordant note. "You..." she sorted out through the feelings running through her, hands trembling as she tried to take a mental inventory of what was going on. And yet, nothing she was feeling was anything new, or that she'd not felt keenly of late. "You're not the only one with doubts," she finally said, straightening up slightly, taking a deep breath. "Or fears. This isn't anything I haven't felt lately, even." It was a quiet admission, Alison not truly certain why she was even telling him this.
Manuel shook his head. "You did not answer my question. Would you prefer I report for punishment now, after class, or would you like to take care of it yourself?" he asked again. "Such behavior is inexcusable. I know this, you know this."
Her hands were still shaking and she took another deep breath, striving for self-control. "You're seeing the Professor already on a regular basis, aren't you?" At his nod, she continued. "Tell him the next time you see him, then." Ever so slowly she was managing to set aside the emotions that had been generated - and the ones already present. "The idea of corrective punishment for someone still learning how to use their abilities is repugnant to me."
Manuel blinked at Alison. "But that's how you learn." he said as he stood up from the piano and moved over to his things - which included his laptop. "I'll just send Charles an email now. Will you be OK for class?" he asked her, not sympathetically but not coldly, either.
"It's one way to learn," she murmured, slipping into calming breathing exercises without really thinking about it, the talk helping her despite the things it implied about Manuel's thinking processes. "Not one I go for. I'd rather learn," she paused, exhaling slowly, "or teach, for the joy of it , myself. I'll be fine for class, thank you." She'd be sending her own email to Charles about this, she thought distantly.
Manuel shrugged - he wasn't too inclined to argue the point - if Ms Blaire wanted to be lenient, then so be it. He was sure, though, that there was a hidden catch, some barb that she thought would rip through him entirely. He booted up his laptop and composed his email to Charles, then sent it. "Email is sent." he said.
She nodded at that, feeling a great deal calmer now. "Good. Would you like to have a second go at things? I think we have a bit of time left." She looked down at the guitar and wondered briefly at herself. "We might want to pick a piece to play this time around, however."
Manuel blinked. His expression said ~Are you MAD?~ but he nodded in agreement. "If you feel safe attempting it, then yes, I will play. What piece?"
She tended to agree with him on that one, truth be told - then again, she'd been told she was insane more than once anyway. "The Lyles arrangement for piano and guitar I picked up not long ago, I think. Did you have the chance to look at it yet?"
Manuel nodded. "I glanced at it. Pretty straightforward. Want to give it a go?" he said, making absolutely no move to go get sheet music or anything.
"Yes." A simple piece, no negative connotations to it and a very firm assumption on Alison's part that if he wasn't going to get the sheet music for it, it was because he felt he knew it well enough to play blind. "Shall we?"
Or he had an eidetic memory. "Let us begin." he said, sat down at the piano like he was at the Vienna Philharmonic, and began to play. The piece was virtually flawless, with only a ragged tempo late in the first movement to mar it.
The first piece, in Alison's opinion, had been far better. Power slip and all. She ran through the Lyles number in perfect counterpoint however, center and balance soon entirely restored by the exercise.
Manuel finished up the piece, and then looked at Alison. As soon as the music stopped, the mask went back up. "Thank you." he said, bowing in his chair to her. "Most people would not be so kind to me. It is almost time for class."
"You're welcome," she replied. "And yes, it is. I'd better get my notes ready." This was her music room and her class - she didn't really care about other people or what they would do, really. She rose to her feet to put the guitar back on its stand before walking to her desk to sort through her notes before the other students arrived.
--
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Date: 2004-10-14 06:32 pm (UTC)