crystal;

[notathreat]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Ellie
RECIPIENT: All y'all
NOTES: Post-ferry, evening

[Kinda late at night actually, but not stupid late. Feel free to fuss about it.]

Anybody here do art? Painting, drawing?

Singing? Play an instrument?

Comments

[cozen]

[ With the slightly-distracted tone of a fellow who has not stopped reading his book to participate in this: ]

Ouais. Music, not art. I'm hopeless with paint.

Do you?

[notathreat]

Yes.

[To all of it.]

What do you play? Or sing?

[muckspout]

[He's going to answer your question with your question.]

Do you do art? painting, drawing, singing or playing an instrument?

[notathreat]

Yep. All of that.

Wyoming had long winters.

[elegiaque]

I've been painted a great deal and I have the obligatory all governesses beat into their charges— I can carry a tune in public, I know my way around a pianoforte. But my art is poetry.

[notathreat]

Do you share it? Or do you keep it buried in a journal somewhere?

[propulsion]

People really gotta put their money where their mouth is.

[ Over the crystal, then, the main melody of The House of the Rising Sun is carefully picked out via what must be the lute. ]

[notathreat]

... oh fuck you, are you serious?

[Ellie sounds fucking delighted, to the point her voice breaks on the last word. Give her a second to get her dulcimer. And then she drops in, playing the background, complimenting the main chords.

It's a somber song, but she plays it strong.]

[bouchonne]

I can belch the alphabet.

[notathreat]

Which alphabet?

[glossator]

I can get by on the psaltery. It's a little like your dulcimer.

[notathreat]

[... okay. She'll give this a shot.]

You got one here with you?

[favoriteanalyst]

I know you do. Looking to put a band together?

[Probably not why she's asking anything, but hey.]

Oh--actually...I have no idea if you might know. Uh, do you know any songs involving the name Jude by any chance?

[notathreat]

[Ellie snorts a soft laugh.]

Not for performances or anything. But a jam session, sure-

[The sentence doesn't sound finished there, but she does the thing where she moves on despite the pause, deciding not to give voice to the thought. Or memory.]

What, like... Hey Jude? The Beatles?

[icasm]

We shan't discuss any past forays into visual art.

Singing yes, instruments yes, poetry definitely. No one is shocked, I'm sure.

[notathreat]

You can't just drop that and expect me not to be curious.

[sprent]

(Wistfully,) No... I wish I did.

I make things, with needle, thread, and fabric. Does that count?

[elegiaque]

If it counts I'm changing my answer.

[notathreat]

Like... clothes? 'Cause I think so.

[detestable]

Getting a band together?

[notathreat]

Not what I had in mind when I started, but it might be turning out that way.

Do you play?

[indissection]

I create anatomical drawings based on dissections.

[notathreat]

Gross. But still art.

belatedly

[altusimperius]

I draw, sometimes.

[Hesitantly,] I painted the decoration in the dining hall.

[notathreat]

The mural, you mean?

[rowancrowned]

You have not yet spent a winter here, have you?

( having spent time eavesdropping on the other conversations. )

[notathreat]

I rifted in the spring before last.