strangetrip | OTA: Fly me to the moon

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OTA: Fly me to the moon

Caden stood on the edge of the wide room - the Main Dance Floor, the plaque on the door said, with its polished hardwood floor, hot pink chairs, incredible chandeliers and enchanting rafters, but he only had eyes for what stood on the stage. Gleaming, perfect, beautiful, grand.

A piano.

Before heading out, Caden had put on make-up as one would an armour, heavy kohl around his eyes, glitter on his temples, and dressed in some of the clothes he'd found in the boutique. The navy waistcoat and slacks did not feel at all like him; they would not make anyone look twice at him. The cut and the fit were decent, but the color was dull. But there was not much at the boutique that fit him even remotely like he wanted it to, so he made do with the suit, keeping his shirt unbuttoned down the V of the waistcoat, and it sleeves rolled up to his elbows. With his hair pulled back in a ponytail and a strand 'accidentally' escaping it to frame one side of his face, it was a good enough fac simile of the way he would have dressed for a night of work at the Blues Palace.

But Caden might as well have been wearing one of his brighter, more Aurellian crochet tops and a skirt, for all that he cared about his appearance the moment his eyes landed on the piano. The martini he had just acquired at the bar next door all but forgotten in his hand, he walked towards the stage, drawn by a swell of emotions that all mingled with hope, with love, with faith.

He set the glass on the lip of the piano, took a seat on the stool, and reverently ran his hands over the keys. It was a few moments before he dared to play out a small tune, making sure that the instrument was tuned. His hands grew in confidence as he went on, and it wasn't long before he was running through the notes of one of the first songs he had ever played - and sung - in front of an audience. How long had it been since he had played it? The keys came back, little by little, muscle memory eventually winning the game of trial and error, the rings he wore glittering in the light as his fingers slid over black and white.

Eventually, Caden felt happy enough with his play that he started to sing along, in a low croon, "Fly me to the moon, Let me play among the stars, Let me see what Canwyn's like Among the sun and stars... In other words, hold my hand... In other words, darling, kiss me..."

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There was a schedule, thanks to Caroline, of regular nights for playing in the bar, but it was more a guideline than a requirement, if you asked Coby. He didn't think it was anybody's night, although it could be hard to keep track sometimes, the way the days all blurred together with nothing else to do. Still, no reason not to take his guitar with him when he went down to the bar for a drink. Maybe he'd play a few songs. Or more than a few, depending on who was around.

The music filtered through from the dance floor to the bar as Coby was waiting on his drink, and at first he thought it was a recording. He knew he didn't recognize the voice as anybody here at the inn. But no, the simple piano and voice was live and in person, he decided. Just unknown.

In trying to place it, he hadn't paid much attention to what Kitty was doing behind the bar. He'd asked her to surprise him with whatever she'd been experimenting with or enjoying making lately. She handed him a glass garnished with mint and a slice of cucumber, and he thanked her with a nod and a smile, taking a sip as he went to see if it was a recent arrival or someone who'd been hiding musical talents for awhile now.

He paused just inside the doorway, setting his gig bag against the wall, and just listened, not wanting to interrupt the song for something as unimportant as introductions. He'd caught a glimpse or two of the guy who'd probably come in the latest arrival day, since he wasn't the type you could miss, gorgeous guy with amazing hair, who wore the dressier clothes without looking like he was wearing a Suit, or worse like the suit was wearing him. Coby, in faded jeans so broken in they were velvet soft, ripped knee and all, and a v-neck tee just as soft worn, his beach-waved blond hair pulled back in a sloppy man-bun was a stark contrast.

Not that that mattered to him. The guy could sing.

Partway through the song, Caden realised that someone was standing by the door. The way Caden sang shifted, from something mostly for himself to something absolutely aimed at the newcomer. Caden stood up straighter, managing the wonderful trick of projecting his voice while retaining an intimate tone, like he was only singing for the man standing all the way across the room.

And if the piano line was a bit less than perfect, Caden absolutely intended to distract his unexpected audience from that with his song.

"Fill my heart with song, Let me sing forever more..." A playful flirt, dark eyes glinting as he went on, "You are all I long for, All I worship and I adore..." And it was better by far to focus on the stranger than on Cal, whom a line like that would always call to mind. "In other words, please be true... In other words, I love you..."

He wrapped the song up on an easy flurry of jazz keys, and realised with quiet joy that for this beautiful moment, he felt more like himself than he had in a week.

Coby could tell the moment the guy noticed he had an audience, even before he looked over with deep brown eyes made bright and warm against dark liner and shimmer of glitter.

Staying where he was, leaning against the door jamb, Coby flashed a hint of smile, mostly in his own blue eyes. "I see you found the piano."

"Is it all right to play it?" Caden asked, with a hint of sheepishness in his smile, just enough to prove charmingly self-conscious. "I couldn't resist."

Even now, he'd turned on the stool to angle his body towards the man, but he slid his fingers lightly on the keys, not pressing any, just enjoying the sensation. He hadn't sat down behind a piano since that impromptu quatre mains with Lucien, but it still felt like hope renewed, a link back home. If he could still have jazz here, then things could not be so bad. Then he could still hope to be himself.

"Is it all right?" Coby echoed lightly, thinking it was a very good sign when someone saw a piano, couldn't resist playing, and came out with a jazz standard instead of Chopsticks. "When Caroline hears you, she'll try to talk you into regular nights. She has a chart. It's color-coded.

"No, but seriously. More musicians around here is totally a good thing. And if you're like some of us, music will help keep you sane, stuck here the way we are." Finally crossing the room, he offered his hand. "Coby Ward."

Caden rose from the piano stool and moved to the edge of the stage with his usual, natural grace, crouched there, and slid his hand into Coby's for a friendly shake. "Hello, Coby Ward," he told him with a charming smile. "I'm Caden."

If there was one other thing that might help Caden feel more like himself, it would be flirting with a stranger. No longer a stranger. Coby Ward. An Aurellian-sounding name; he took that as a good sign.

He slid his hand out of Coby's grasp, the drag of fingers over palm light enough to leave someone wondering whether it had been real, or in their imagination. The suit, the make-up, the music, and now this.

"I won't need much encouragement," Caden admitted, still crouched and looking perfectly at home like this, leaning an arm on his knee. "I'm a bit rusty on the piano, but just try and keep me from an audience."

Coby didn't stop to wonder if it was actually flirting. "Something tells me it's going to be a real pleasure meeting you, Caden." He pushed up to sit on the edge of the stage, turning to face Caden.

"Audiences around here tend to be small, intimate even." Mostly because there were so few people at the inn, but it wasn't a bad thing usually. "Besides, a little rust doesn't matter when the mood's right."

Caden spun easily towards Coby when he sat on the edge of the stage. This felt wonderfully Clovennian, a seduction that wasn't overt, yet interest made clear. All about word choice. Pleasure. Intimate. That mood being right. Coby could play.

Which, of course, only left one question. Caden tilted his head towards the piano, an invitation playing in his eyes, in the curve of his smile. "Do you play?"

"Piano?" What? Play could refer to all kinds of things. Coby was pretty sure they were already playing, or getting ready to.

"Yeah. I play. Guitar too," he added, nodding back to the canvas gig bag he'd left by the door. "And this and that. Not so many old jazz standards. I'm more bluesy rock and folk, but it's all good."

"Would you like to play with me?" Caden asked, even as he held a hand out to Coby, to help him up. His smile widened a touch. "Piano."

He wasn't sure what bluesy rock and folk was like, but he was looking forward to finding out.

Coby took the offered hand up, and maybe his grip lingering a breath longer than necessary, maybe, while his eyes held to Caden's.

"I'm not sure how much overlap there is in our piano repertoires, but that's never stopped me from trying something new." Another flash of blue eyes, before he bent to grab his drink from where it had been sitting beside him. He took a sip, and nodded Caden toward the piano bench. He almost asked if Caden wanted top or bottom – of the keyboard, obviously... except how there were other ways to ask that without the blatantly obvious, maybe too cheesy even for Coby double entendre.

Caden savoured that touch, and that gaze, and he turned to head back towards the piano with a smile still playing on his lips. There was a hint of a sway to his hips, just enough to catch the eye, not enough that he could be called out on it.

"Will you play something for me?" Caden asked, leaning against the edge of the piano and reclaiming his drink. Not every word had to be a seduction, and these were all they seemed. Caden loved music as much as he loved flirting, after all. "Then we can try for something new, if we find some - overlap."

What to play ran through Coby's mind as he sat: his own songs, covers, trying to find what would be right in the moment, but his hands apparently had their own ideas, and they played the first chord before he had any idea the choice had been made. Playing the same chord a second time, he began to sing:

It's all I could do to keep from crying
It was all that I could do to turn and walk away
And when I found there was no use left in trying
I decided there was no need for me to even make us stay

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For one heart-stopping second, Curnen swore that was a Tufa at the piano.

She knew almost immediately after she had that thought that he was not. If another Tufa had appeared at the inn, she would have sensed it when it happened. They were aware of each other in a way that was difficult to explain to someone who was not one of them. They would have been drawn to each other and made music until their fingers fell off, being stuck together in this place.

This man... well, he looked nothing like Rob, but like Rob he had the coloring. Had he come to Needsville, he could have fooled someone without much of the true in them. But he wasn't.

But the love for the music that she heard in his playing... she settled in a nearby chair to listen, crooning along in wordless harmony.

Caden had been very much playing for himself, until he had noticed the movement out of the corner of his eyes, and seen the woman sit in a chair not far from the stage. Then his lips ticked up into an appreciative smile, and his music became all about her. He sang the rest of the song to her, playfully, flirtily, settling more comfortably into himself, and finished on a flurry of jazz notes.

Then he turned fully to her on the piano stool, picking up his glass to take a drink. "Is it all right for me to play? I couldn't quite resist."

Couldn't quite; as if he had tried at all.

Curnen's response was delighted clapping, nearly bouncing in her seat. She felt something inside her blooming and spreading, warm and bright. "They put up with me when I play. Ain't enough people 'round here who do it."

Her unrestrained excitement made Caden's smile stretch into something wider and brighter, and for a second, he thought of Emmy. His heart clenched, but then he was distracted by - there was something odd about the woman's hands. But he did not stare, but focused on her words, on her odd accent, and only gestured towards the piano. "Would you like to come up here and join me?"

Whether she played the piano or not. The good thing about those piano seats was that they sat two people. A bit snugly, but they did.

Curnen was a lot of things, but shy wasn't and had never been one of them. She got to her feet and strode up to the piano, settling herself in the space beside him and offering her hand like her hip wasn't practically pressed against his. Always best to get it over with, so her hands didn't catch anyone off guard. "Curnen Overbay," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

He hadn't dreamed it; six fingers. He'd never met anyone with six fingers to one hand before. Caden smiled at her as he slid his hand into hers, for a warm, friendly handshake. "Hello, Curnen," he told her, the smile that reflected in his eyes as warm and inviting as the smooth tone of his voice. "I'm Caden. It's lovely to meet you." Slowly, he pulled his hand back, then reached over to set his glass down again. "Do you play the piano?"

"Only a little," Curnen admitted. "Mostly I sing. But I play guitar, and some violin. And I'm working on a couple other things."

"What kind of other things?" Caden asked, wishing he had practiced enough recently to feel comfortable playing and talking. But he would have to focus if he played, and he didn't want to neglect this conversation. He was as invested in it as he was in the music.

"I've got a bodhran," she said easily, though she had barely touched that since Halloween when she'd used that to perform 'The Well Below the Valley.' "And..." she shamelessly reached into her shirt and pulled a harmonica from between her breasts. She no longer needed the magic within, but if she was wearing clothes, she was also wearing this. "I mess around with some wind instruments. Mostly this."

Bodhrán Caden knew, although he was surprised to hear the word in the middle of a Clovennian sentence, and in that accent. He grew a little puzzled when she reached into her shirt, then smiled at the instrument she pulled out. "I don't think I know that one," he said, looking back up into her eyes, his smile now tinged with hopefulness. That she would play something for him, of course.

Curnen blinked with surprise at that. Usually she met people who had seen a hundred harmonicas and only associated them with childhood noisemaking rather than music, but couldn't properly name a bodhran to save their lives.

She put the harmonica to her lips and played what might be considered the quintessential piece for the instrument, "Red River Valley."

Caden listened quietly, entirely unused to this sort of music, and the sound of the instrument. It was an odd mix - the sound almost cheerful, the music almost plaintive. He wished he were any good at the piano, so he could try to improvise a little something to accompany her, but he knew better than to try.

Eventually, she was done, and he smiled thankfully at her. "I've never heard anything like it."