Log:Books, music, and other things

Books, music, and other things
"What do I look like I read, Mr. Fletcher?"
Participants Aaron and Michelle	16 October, 2017 The Lord Scrivner meets a Siren, and unintentionally puts his foot in his mouth
Location Caretakers' House -- Autumn Safe House
The first room that one enters when coming into the house is the sitting room. The sitting room of the Caretakers' House is a smallish one with a few sitting areas that have been placed around the room. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookcases that have been installed recently. On the shelves are a variety of books that range from all the topics anyone can imagine. If you can't find a book, someone can find you one.       Here in the sitting room, one sees a variety of books. Old tomes of a bygone age, as well as more modern tales and textbooks on a variety of subjects: spiritualism of the 1920s; funeral practices of French-Creole, and Downton Abby cookbook. Like I said--a wide variety of books. A few places in the sitting room allow for someone to pick up a book and either bring it to a private chair to read or to a table for more academic or group reading. It's at one of these private seats that one can find Aaron Fletcher--Lord Scrivner, Speaker of the Dead, Librarian to the Custodians of Fate's Harvest, regional psychiatrist (on sabbatical) turned horror writer. He sits with his eyes half closed playing a piece of music on a violin (https://youtu.be/SKQMalwVXLA). The instrument is of black wood and silvered etchings.       To those that can see the Dead, one would see a woman who is dressed in black pants and leather jacket and wearing a choker around her neck--which does a poor job hiding the raw marks around her throat of someone who might have committed suicide through hanging. She moves her pale hand conducting and guiding Aaron with the notes. Both individuals be a striking familial resemblance to one another. Michelle walks in, and pauses in the doorway, unwilling to disturb the music or those playing. She cannot see the dead; all she sees is Aaron Fletcher, author, playing a beautiful song with a gorgeous instrument. She relaxes against the door frame, watches. Aaron pauses at a point near the end, where the held note does not sound right. "I'm trying, Sasha," says the man with a whispered voice. "I swear, I don't know how you had the patience to do this for as long as you did..." he mutters. There is another pause as though the invisible someone that he initially addressed, tells him to look behind him, which he does. Seeing another person in the room, causes the young Sluagh to hold the violin and bow in on hand as he offers a formal bow. "Good day," he says to you, "I didn't hear anyone come in..." Michelle smiles softly. "I didn't want to interrupt," the Fairest says, bowing in return. Her voice is smoky, an alto, hard to mistake or escape. "I was intentionally quiet." And for once, she could be, wearing sneakers instead of high heels, jeans instead of a skirt. She's still in a blouse, though, a soft green thing that looks like silk. "I'm a musician, see. So your playing..." She trails off, garnet lips curving softly. "Anyway. It's nice to meet you. I'm Michelle Hawthorne, newly sworn to the local Freehold." She offers a little curtsey. Perhaps it's the voice that causes Aaron's smile to appear so suddenly. Or the look of the jeweled Fairest. The Darkling is quite a moment--a bit longer than a normal pause as she introduces himself. Something (or perhaps someone) nudges him to speak. "Are you a violinist? Perhaps you'd be better apt at this than me," at the giving of the name, he nods. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hawthorne. I'm Aaron. Aaron Fletcher. I've been part of the Freehold for a few months now. Since early March." Michelle laughs gently, a quiet but ebullient sound. "No, I sing. But all music moves my soul." She watches him, golden topaz eyes wide. "-The- Aaron Fletcher? My goodness." Aaron always seems surprised when someone shows much recognition in his name. "Well, I'm sure with commonalities in the two names: Aaron and Fletcher, I'm -a- Aaron Fletcher," he says. "But as for -The- Aaron Fletcher, I would say--yes? It would depend on which Aaron Fletcher you're looking for." "The author?" Michelle prompts. "I mean, I could be mistaken. But... Autumns who are writers usually -do- write horror." She grins at him crookedly. Michelle tilts her head, ruby tresses catching the light as they slide across her shoulder. "I mean, I could be mistaken, but there's this author from Vermont who writes horror named Aaron Fletcher. You kinda look like him; your mask could -be- him, as far as I know." Aaron begins listing off a series of novels, anthologies, and other works written by him. "Yup. That Aaron Fletcher would be me, and I him. One in the same." he is quite a moment then says, "you don't look like the sort that reads horror," says an Autumn courtier to another. "But one should not judge a book by its cover," he says to himself mostly. Michelle laughs softly. "What do I look like I read, Mr. Fletcher?" she says, after praising at least three of his novels very highly and being polite, minorly quibble-y about one. "I read as much of anything I can get my hands on as the next Autumn Courtier. Up to and including Harlequin Romance. My kindle sees much use." Aaron shrugs a brief moment, "I don't know. We've only just met. I'm always intrigued by the Bodice Ripper genre. Seems so...exagerated? Far-fetched?" He chuckles to himself, "but this is coming from someone that writes about monsters, maniacs, and madness. "But I am glad to hear that another reader of my work found entertainment in my twisted tales." Michelle grins. "Bodice rippers are just that--they talk about sex, but in boring terms." The Fairest's grin turns slightly wicked, but she doesn't expound upon that thought with someone she's just met. A small head shakes, and she's focused on Aaron again. "Oh, sure. I'm always a fan of interesting work. You take tropes and play with them quite well." Aaron offers another humbled bow. Remembering he's still holding the violin in his hand, he puts it and the bow back in its case. "So a recent arrival in town. Where were you prior, Miss Hawthorne? What brings you to these lovely parts?" "I was born here," Michelle says with a small smile. "I'm not new, exactly, just.... coming out of the woodwork, as it were." She considers him, finally moving to take a seat. "It took me a while to stop being afraid to move. But now I'm embracing Fear and living life once more." Aaron takes a seat across. "Embracing fear is the best way to go, I think. But then I'm biased..." he offers a light laugh. Michelle grins crookedly. "Of course we both are," she agrees with a smile. She crosses those long, pale legs, going up and up and up. And she watches him with those gorgeous yet unsettling jeweled eyes. "So, what got you into writing?" Aaron considers, "Well..." he is quite a moment, "I suppose it was a little after I settled things back home. I'd always been writing things here and there. Nothing published--but every dream, nightmare, or muse I'd have, I penned or typed out. After I settled affairs with my parents, then them moving to..." he shrugs, "wherever they moved to, I decided to change my vocation. I decided not to renew my counseling licenses and focused more on writing. I posted a few things on the interwebs, connected with a few people who were in publishing, and thus Aaron Fletcher--doctor of psychiatry became simply, Aaron Fletcher--horror writer." Michelle's big eyes get bigger. "I didn't realize you had a psychiatry background. No wonder your stuff rings so true in that regard. Very neat, Mr. Fletcher." If he's going with honorifics, so's she. Aaron nods. "I am..." pauses, "was," pauses, "am...a doctor of clinical psychology. I specialize in, fittingly, fears. I had my own practice back in my hometown in Maine. Alongside that, I was also head of two free clinics." He takes a moment and then says, "It was...a lot. Almost too much. So I decided to pass it on to others in my extended family, and change the direction of my own personal story. It's been a touch more relaxing." Michelle nods. "It's important to not overwork oneself. Otherwise... one will have to employ the services of a Bishop, and while not unpleasant, it's..." She considers how to say this. "Bishops are unstable on a good day. I don't trust them." Aaron chuckles and nods. "I did once. A while back. She saw that I was becoming a bit..." he tries to find the right word, "I wasn't quite myself. I was doing a great deal--and not sleeping all that much. Barely running on fumes. The Bishop approached me. Saw that I was in need..." he's hesitant a moment, but then says, "She was a lifesaver when I was drowning--not realizing that I was drowning." Michelle considers Aaron's words. She seems a bit surprised at his ready admission. "Well," she says, a bit stiffly. "I'm sure one or two of them do the job well. But so many are just in it for self-flagellation, and don't want to help others." Michelle, you have a huge blind spot here. Aaron nods slowly. "Everyone has their own experiences," he admits, "mine is probably one of the few that did not come off as concerning," he shrugs. "So yes--I decided to put aside my more medical apt side of myself, and focus more on the storyteller side of myself. I've gotten on a bit better. I also have a great many roles here that allow me more frequency around books than people--so I'm never without a quick reference at my fingertips." Michelle smiles and nods, relaxing slowly. "That's always good. I do so love books." She gazes at the walls affectionately. Aaron nods. "Hense the vast library on your tablet..." he lightly smiles. "I am more of an audiobook and podcast person myself." Michelle laughs gently. "Hey, they're portable that way. I prefer real books, but sometimes a girl's just gotta keep moving." She pats her handbag, before looking at him. "i've never gotten into podcasts. What are they like?" "Think of old time radio..." he says with an enthusiastic smile. "All of those shows that you had to imagine because television was not invented. But now it's all serials and anthologies at your fingertips. People found a way of telling really captivating stories without gimmicks. Some shows work. Others do not. I would recommend a podcast called 'Limetown' if you're looking for a found-footage type story--but in audio form." Michelle looks excited. "That sounds really neat," she says, bouncing a little. "And how do I access this? On a computer, or on my phone?" Aaron says, "You can access it on your computer, or phone with one of the multitudes of podcast steaming apps they make." Michelle nods thoughtfully. "I will look for one, sure." She smiles at him, teeth white mother-of-pearl bits. "How do you not get ideas from what you read and listen to, though? Or is that part of what you need to do? To refresh the idea wellspring?" "It's hard to find new ideas these days. Everything has been told and told and told again in one way or another. What one can do--what a writer should do, is put their own spin on the old tales. Brush the dust or crap off an overdone story--and try to make it one's own, but different. Like how Gregory Maguire 'Wicked' is a different take and a unique tale of Baum's world and characters. Or a series of young adult fiction entitled 'The Lunar Chronicles' are retellings of well-known faerie tale females: Snow White, Cinderella, Rapunzel, and Red Riding Hood--all with a sci-fi twist to them." Michelle perks. "A sci-fi twist on old fairy tales? I know of Wicked, of course," the alto adds, waving a hand. "But the rest? wow." Aaron nods. "If you ever need a book recommendation that's sci-fi or horror, I could either name a few or loan you one of my copies. But don't mind all the notes on the edges," he chuckles. Michelle nods! "I wouldn't at all. I love to see other people's thoughts on books," she says warmly.