an internal storm
who: eris and bright
where: the waterfront
when: noonish
It was beautiful out, though Eris really didn't notice. The black storm clouds in her own mind prevented that, even if to see her walking that didn't show in her features. All she was doing was walking alongside the water, looking out at it as the breeze lightly tossed her hair. It was a slow sort of stroll, distracted in nature. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings nearly so much as she should have been.
When she'd left she and Brett's place, she'd been paranoid, trying to look everywhere at once, but now that had dropped away in favor of her mind being far too preoccupied with everything else. She just couldn't do both at the same time. So either she was going to be paranoid and suspecting danger at every turn or she was going to be trying to get her mind straight on things. The latter won out.
Unfortunately, it also didn't work. Between everything kicked up by the flowers appearing that morning to everything happening between she and Brett, everything felt like it was a mess. Everything felt like it was falling apart. Or was still falling apart, since technically, for a while the other night there hadn't even been a she and Brett anymore. Maybe they were just going through the death theroes, it was over and they were just going through the final spasms. She really hated that she even thought about that in any capacity.
Stopping near a bench, she stood towards the posts, with the chains that ran between them, a half-assed little barrier to keep people from wandering over the edge to drop into the river below. Looking down into the water from there, leaning on the post, she watched the water go by. The dark, ominous water. Where she was meant to have been dropped.
Reaching up, she unclasped the ruby necklace, and reclasped it on the post, so it hung there, catching the light. Then she turned to walk away from it, in the hopes of leaving it and her emotions behind with it.
Bright hated going down to
Bright hated going down to the waterfront. Oh, he liked the water well enough, and he liked the view, but having, at the very least, a general idea of the shady behavior that went down there gave him a healthy wariness of the place. As far he knew, he hadn't had any run-ins with the giants that ran this city (and they did, and anyone who said differently was a fool or part of the machine), and he'd rather keep it that way.
But there was one thing Bright was certain to shuffle his way out to the docks for, and that was a new piano. New to his collection, anyway. By ship was the only way they could arrive safely, and being there when they dropped it off was the only way to be sure it had arrived safely. Too many people were too inclined to say that, no, Bright had caused that water damage himself. He'd already made that mistake once. The cab dropped him off at the waterfront, over an hour earlier than he'd expected. He'd might as well enjoy the view while he was in broad daylight and unlikely to get mugged or worse.
He paid the driver and approached the edge of the water, being mindful of his distance. It was easier for him than others to fall in; his cane getting stuck or slipping, his legs giving out. Images from his dream bubbled up to the surface: the bloated bodies, discarded, infected. He tore his eyes from the water, something red and shining catching his gaze. A necklace? And a woman, a few steps beyond and steadily retreating. Had it fallen from her throat?
"Miss?" Bright called, his fingers lightly brushing the hanging gem. "I believe you forgot this."
.
At hearing someone addressing her, Eris stopped and looked back over her shoulder. She didn't say anything for a moment, looking back to the necklace. "No, I didn't." she told him. Because she hadn't. She'd left it there deliberately. And she didn't want it back, either. So, her tone indicated as such. That it was just there. Hell, if he wanted it he could take it for all she cared. And she might have left it at that, but then paused for a moment. "If you take it, don't give it to someone you like." she added.
Because she could just see Andrei taking offense if he saw his 'gift' around someone else's neck. They might wind up a little dead over it. That wasn't something she wanted to hand out to anyone. "Give it to an enemy."
.
Bright let his hand drop, the necklace still swaying gently from his touch. He wasn't sure what to say to that. There were a whole lot of reasons someone might want to abandon a piece of jewelry, to give it, specifically, to an enemy and not a friend, and Bright guessed that she wasn't keen on discussing any of them.
"Can't say I've got any enemies that would take a gift," Bright said, slipping a hand into his pocket. He looked at the woman and half-smiled. After a moment of staring at her, his brow furrowed, eyes squinting. Something about her...
"I'm sorry to be the sort of man that would say this, but you seem terribly familiar." He stroked his chin, looking away. No, it wasn't her face, it was her voice. He glanced over at her again, trying to place her. "You wouldn't happen to sing, would you?"
.
That actually had her frowning, and she turned more towards Bright than she had been. "I may have from time to time." she said. Techincally, she'd just 'retired' even if she didn't in any way want to. Was it someone who'd heard her? Who'd showed up at the Round to hear old songs she'd sort of re-done a bit in her own style? It wasn't like she could even do songs that were currently popular, with her handicap. She also, in that moment, wondered how prominent that red scar around her neck happened to be, or if her hair was covering it well enough. Probably not, but she wondered. "Why?" she asked, studying him, trying to see if she recognized him at all.
.
"I play piano at some places in the city," Bright explained, adjusting his fedora in a strong breeze. "I recognize your voice, just can't quite remember where." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's going to bother me all day unless I figure it out."
He looked away again, not wanting to stare, and scratched thoughtfully at his stubble. "The Drake?" He glanced at her for confirmation, then shook his head. "No, that's not it..."
.
That actually got an almost smile out of her, a twitch to the corner of her mouth as she watched him thinking it over. A piano player. Hmm. He might have played at the Round before when she'd sang. When she did sing she was usually very deeply into that, and therefore sort of missed the finer details. Like the band, or things like that. She put her all into singing whens he did it, and hey. Brain damage didn't make her the best with recalling faces in a crowd. Or even ones not quite in the crowd, but she'd not been properly introduced to--which for her was everyone, considering her stage theatrics of being a mystery woman singer. "Not the Drake." she confirmed for him.
.
Bright glanced back over at her and smiled. "No, not the Drake."
He tapped at his chin with his thumb, jaw working back and forth. "The Kitten Club? Hmm... no, I don't... no, that wasn't it. Definitely not Rock Bottom."
He looked over at her again, and there was something about the line of jaw, her hands, the curve of her waist, a curl of her hair. When the light bulb snapped on, the recognition showed in his face. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. "The Round! But you always sang with the lights down, and nobody saw you until you were already on stage." Satisfied, he let his hands drop and smiled. "It was always fantastic."
.
She watched him trying to figure it all out, not helping at all, curious if he'd get it. And then he did, landing on the right answer. And it wasn't just a suggestion of a place he'd forgotten, he clearly did remember her specifically. She smiled at the last bit. "Thank you." she said. "It's nice to hear I had a fan." she told him. Had, because yes. Past tense. Even if she still just hated that, and it gave her an empty feeling in her chest.
Singing had started as just something she could do that wasn't 'hide in Brett's apartment and recouperate', but it hadn't ended that way. Eventually, she'd learned that she really enjoyed it. That it was something she was actually good at, and she liked. Enjoyment hadn't been a big part of Eris' life til after Andrei tried to kill her. And it was the one thing that she'd found that was all on her own, and something positive. Only it wasn't sustainable, and she'd had to let it go. That just didn't mean it was something she was happy about.
.
"It's more than just me, I'm sure." He passed his cane from one hand to the other, resting his weight against a nearby pole. "I haven't seen you there recently, though. Have you been singing somewhere else? If I'd known, I'd of been there."
There were a lot of good singers, but there weren't many that had the same... soul she had. There was some kind of ache in her voice that you could just feel--or at the very least, Bright could. It was easy enough for him to pick up on the hurts of others when he had so many of his own.
.
"I haven't been singing anywhere. I've retired." She told him. "My last performance was the other night. Sorry you missed it." she said. It was odd, if nice, to hear what he had to say. She did, after all, spend the majority of her time with someone who didn't like to hand out compliments to anyone, and she wasn't an exception to that rule. If Brett said anything nice, it was usually under at least a little duress. And generally he didn't repeat himself at all on it.
so it was nice to hear someone had enjoyed her work. That he hadn't forgotten about her the second she was off the stage. Or maybe she was reading in, because at the moment she could use something that felt good, to contrast everything else going on in her life.
.
"Retired?" Bright did look genuinely disappointed, a corner of his mouth tugged down slightly. "You're too young and too good to retire."
Bright didn't often get invested in other people, but he could honestly say that he gave a damn whether or not this woman continued to sing. He knew her on a musical level, and music was his only passion in life. He knew her voice, her words, the air she breathed. He knew her heart, damn it. "There aren't too many others like you out there. The world would be a little less without hearing you again."
.
"Now you're just flattering me." Eris said, smirking faintly. Internally, she was a little torn. It was really nice to hear that and she didn't really have a reason to suspect he was lying? But at the same time, part of her wondered if he wanted something. Everyone always wanted something.
Still, it was nice to hear. Nice to experience. Praise for something she enjoyed and had nothing to do with her former self or profession. All it had to do was a shadowed singer on stage. She looked at him, head tilting to the side slightly as she did so. "I had imagined that I'd be replaced in short order, and no one would really remark my departure." she told him, being honest there. "What do you think makes me unique?" since he'd said there weren't many others like her. So she did want to know what he saw that she didn't.
.
"There's nothing wrong with flattery when it's the truth," Bright said, chuckling. Leaning his weight on the pole, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked out at the water. "It's easy to sing. Anybody can learn how to do. Hell, anybody can do it badly. But when most people sing, it's just words to a pretty tune."
He looked down at the necklace--had it had anything to do with why she'd retired? She'd said it was better for an enemy to have, which probably meant an enemy had given it to her. He looked at her again, tilted his head, smiled. "But when you sang, even when no one could really see you, everybody felt it. Everybody listened."
.
If that's true, maybe it's because they couldn't see me. They could put whatever they wanted into it, hear whatever they wanted since they couldn't see who was putting the song out there. she thought, but didn't share. At least, not yet. She gazed at him for a few long moments, watching. "What is it you felt?" she asked. Since he was talking about feeling from music. Which she could understand. Or, more correctly, she could understand now. Before she hadn't had any great attachment or love for music, even if she'd known how to sing. Now it was a solace to her a lot of times. She liked her records, she liked putting music on in the background to her day. She liked slow, moody tunes that ached a little.
.
Bright exhaled deeply, his eyes flicking up towards the sky. He had an exceptional memory, especially when it came to music, and he was recalling the last song he'd heard her sing now. He remembered the light, the atmosphere, the feeling of his fingers on the piano keys. And, most acutely, the ache in his chest.
"Sad," he said, after a long moment. "Lost. When you hear something that moves you, it always hits you right here." He tapped at his chest, breastplate thudding lightly. "Like ice. Even when you weren't singing about feeling sad or lost, it was in your voice anyway."
He smiled, spreading his hands. "Not that I'm saying you're either of those things, genuinely, but you asked."
.
"And you consider that a good thing?" she asked, arching a brow. It was definitely interesting to hear. She didn't know what she thought about it, necessarily, but it was curious. She started to walk back a little closer, but didn't get within kicking distance. "And this lost, icy quality doesn't appear in other singers? Or it just especially resonated with me?"
She wondered if it was just him, or if anyone else took that away from her performances. She didn't know what she would think either way, really. It was still taking her a minute or so to really process what he was saying now. She supposed she hadn't quite thought about things in the way that he was talking about them. Even if she knew that her singing should evoke certain emotions and the like, she wouldn't have thought she projected anything sad. Or lost. But if she had, she wanted to know. It, to her, anyhow, would mean that she was projecting things, and possibly things other people really ought not be privy to.
.
"I don't consider it a bad thing," Bright said. He re-crossed his arms and gave her question a bit of thought. "It's the difference between a photograph of a sunset and standing in front of one. The photograph is a reproduction--it's been filtered, altered, it's grainy and fuzzy. Something has been lost in translation. But when you're there, you're in the moment. You get it. It's beautiful and you understand that because you're present for it. Anybody can sing, but it takes a little something else to show you the sunset."
He shrugged. "Of course, that's if you're open to it. Some people are just there for the song." He smiled, studying her. "I wouldn't worry about it. There's a hell of a lot of sad singers in this city."
.
"So if there are a lot of sad singers in the city, then I should just be a face in the crowd." she said. "Just one that's there but doesn't matter." She thought about the rest of what he said as well, however, milling it over. "I suppose singing was a bit of an escape for me. I enjoyed it. And I wasn't thinking about anything else when I was doing it. I just concentrated on that, letting everything else drop."
.
"Then why stop?" Bright asked. The way he was leaning against the pole was starting to hurt his leg, so he stood up straight again, supporting his weight with his cane instead. "If you were good at it and it was... helpful for you, why retire?" He might have been projecting a bit. Maybe it was because he'd been playing since he was a little boy, but Bright would be completely and utterly lost without his music. It had been the single constant in his life, the one thing that kept him grounded with reality and not adrift among his dreams and nightmares.
.
"There's no place for me anymore." Eris said. Which was partially true. She'd needed to leave the round, they'd gone public with the escort business, she had to leave silly little things like singing behind, and concentrate on oh...the new business, being Eris 'No You Motherfuckers Didn't Kill Me' Stockard again, everything else. She really couldn't continue at the Round. And if she started to go on stage again, with the public persona out there and all, it wouldn't be that long a time before everyone knew who she was, and add on top of that that with a psychotic fucking killer out there who probably took a bit of offense that he'd missed with her, that was standing there being a big, spotlight lit target.
But that didn't mean she didn't miss it. That she still felt that ache of loss when she did think about it. Though it had only been a few days, so maybe it was just fresh. She didn't know.
.
"You know there are plenty other places you can sing in the city right?" Bright got the idea that that wasn't quite what she meant, but he figured that it likely wasn't anything she wanted to talk about. The forgotten necklace was his first indication that something was off about her situation. He wasn't nosy, so he wasn't going to ask. "I could even vouch for you, get you in the door and back on stage, quick as lightning."
.
She smiled lightly at that. "I wouldn't need someone to vouch." she told him. "Thank you anyways." she added. "But there was only so long that people were going to put up with the fact that I don't sing any current songs, too. If you noticed, I only sang old ones." Which was because she could only sing songs she knew the words to before the brain damage had kicked in. Which was why she was convinced it meant she had a shelf life.
.
"Nothing wrong with old songs," Bright said, smiling back at her. "They're familiar. Memorable. Good songs don't stop being good just because something new came out."
He took a few limping steps towards her, holding out his hand. "My name's Bright. You ask any bartender in this city, they'll know where to find me. I'll play for you." His smile widened slightly, and he winked. "We could be a piano-vocal duet. Playing old songs whether they like it or not."
.
Eris held her hand out to shake his, quirking a little tentative sort of smile. "You want to do duets?" she asked. Could she do that? She did recall that he was very good. No flubbing notes for him. And if he played at the Drake as well that said that he was slumming it with the Round, but still. According to him and Brett, she was slumming it there too. "And it's a pleasure to really meet you, Bright." she said. "I suppose I should give you my name, even if previously it was never allowed." she added. "What with the secrecy around my act." she added, with that coy little smile of hers. "Unless you just wanted to call me angel." she added. Since she'd been the shrouded angel. Her name was a bit of a strange thing. Brett was the only one who even knew she had a real name that wasn't Eris. And Eris Stockard...well. There was infamy there.
.
"I can call you whatever you want, angel," Bright said, smirking a touch.
A stray breeze blew by then, lifting at her hair, making it float, dream-like around her throat. Bright's eyes were drawn to it and the red ring of a scar around her neck. He looked back up at her, but he knew that he'd reacted and that she'd had to have seen it. There was an elephant between them now, and Bright was the first to address it. "Can't say I've seen an angel with one of those before."
.
"Most angels probably wouldn't get themselves into a position to have them." Eris said. Not to mention anyone with a mark like this is usually a corpse. "I'm sure you can see why I preferred to do my performances in the shadows." she added, since yes, it did in fact have something to do with it. The scar though, it was one of those things that if she tried to cover it up with make up, it would never be a perfect job. So there'd just be something there people knew she was covering up with make up, and therefore would pay more attention. Plus, it was something like what Brett had referred to it as. A badge of honor of some description. She'd survived what she shouldn't have. She'd been stronger than she'd been given credit for.
"What would you want to if we did duets? And where?" she asked. This is a fucking stupid little thing to even be discussing. You're not going to be able to do it. It's needless indulgence, and you have other things to concentrate on. Stop it. She thought but she didn't actually listen to herself.
.
Bright nodded; he could understand that. A woman's vanity was a powerful thing, and she likely hadn't wanted people to stare at the scar around her neck instead of listening to her singing. The problem was, that was a pretty nasty scar. How'd a woman as pretty as her end up getting hurt that badly?
He glanced over at the necklace again, unclasping it and letting it spill into his hand. "Do most angels get necklaces like this from enemies too?"
That was a rapid change in subject, though. He'd wanted her to get back to her singing, but he was also worried about what this necklace meant for her, what that scar meant for her. It brought back too many memories of Anna; he hated that there were monsters that wanted to hurt people like her, like that little girl.
He had a card, as silly as it seemed for a piano player to have a card. He drew it out of the interior pocket of his coat, holding it out to her. "Anything, anywhere." He smiled at her. Bright wasn't big and strong, wasn't anyone would expect to be a protector, but he was a man and surely that had to count for something. "Wherever angels can fly."
.
"No." Eris said. She knew it was pretty unique all things considered. "But then I'm really not what anyone would truly call an angel." she said. When he held out his card, she took it, though, again internally feeling stupid about it. Like it was some silly little thing she needed to forget about, but there was a part of her that so very much wanted to hang onto the idea, even. Just for a little while, even.
"I'm pretty sure 'angel' would be the last word anyone would use to describe me once they know who I am." she added. "My name is Eris." she said. Which should be enough. She'd been all over the news, she knew, how she went missing, all that. Thought murdered, and for good goddamn reason. She'd run Babylon, been the city's most infamous Madame. And then Babylon had even burned to the ground--something she'd done herself, not that anyone knew that. Still. She waited to see if he recognized it. And if that would have him retracting his card.
.
"Eris?" Bright echoed. "Eris Eris?" Being so involved in the bars and lounges across the city, Bright knew about Babylon. And he read the papers, he listened to the radio, so he knew she was missing too. Dead, or supposed to be, though obviously not, even with that scar around her neck. "Guess angel is pretty appropriate after all."
He realized, quite suddenly, that he'd just stumbled upon something very serious. As often as he tried to avoid the underbelly of the city, he simply couldn't take his card back. Someone had tried to kill this woman, like someone had tried to kill Anna Foster in that alley over a decade ago. But they hadn't succeeded in killing Eris. Even so, he got the flashes, Eris's body in the alley instead of a tiny little girl, blood soaking into Eris's dark hair, Eris's clothes, Eris's eyes open, shocked, lifeless. He couldn't let someone else die. Not again.
"Feels a little silly saying this to you," Bright said, swallowing a lump in his throat, "but if you... need any kind of help, you can find me. I'm sure you've got plenty as it is, but surely a crippled pianist can be of some use. Even just to play a duet sometime."
.
As someone who'd spent her life making a study of human nature, even if it was for rather shady reasons, that didn't take the talent away. Like seeing that something had just triggered in Bright's mind over things. That was fairly obvious, really. And, he still made the offer anyways, which she didn't say anything about for a few moments. But then, after an assessment, she did. "You mean that, don't you." she said, and it wasn't really a question. "If I did call you in need of help of some description, you'd do what you could."
Which made him a rare type in this city. It wasn't given to people who were the type to throw themselves to the wolves, after all. It was much more an environment of uninvolvement that took precedence. So it was interesting, to see someone who she had a passing history with, but was truly only meeting for the first time, offer something like that up. Especially in light of his disability. "That's sweet of you." she told him.
.
"I do," Bright said, when she finally spoke. "And I would."
He wanted to be uninvolved, honestly; it was certainly safer. But who could he now, after he'd seen that she was so obviously in a bad place, that something awful had happened to her? She might have been right in the middle of some serious dangerous activities, but he couldn't simply walk away and leave her to flounder. He couldn't close his eyes and be an oblivious bystander. Not again. Not ever again.
"I wouldn't call it sweet," Bright said, chuckling. "Unwise, maybe. But what sort of man would I be if I didn't offer to do what I can? I can't promise to knock anyone's teeth out, but if there's anything else I can do, don't hesitate." Especially if hesitating meant she might not make it out alive the next time someone tried to kill her.
.
Eris smiled a bit. "I would definitely term it as unwise." she agreed, though it was lightly. "Though, I've been attempting to keep myself above the board. Nothing illegal, and I never did do anything with either mafia." And she smiled there, too. Because she hadn't, it had gotten her killed, and then she'd help take out the ones who'd killed her. Which to her was still something she considered nice. "You might find it much wiser to pretend you never saw me. Though that said...maybe a duet sometimes would be nice."
.
"Unfortunately for me, I've got an excellent memory." Bright smiled and winked. Was he shaking in his wingtips? Yeah, a little. But things probably weren't much better for her. It was all relative, right?
"I'll be holding you to that duet," he said. "It'd be one hell of an experience to play with you again. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
.
Eris smiled at that. "I hope I don't disappoint." Eris said, really very much hoping that, considering how much he seemed to enjoy things. He seemed to see something substantial in her, something worthy. And she still wanted to hold onto that in some little way, even if she never called. She supposed if he was really serious about her, she wouldn't be hard for him to find, either. Society was whispering all about her, he would be able to come up with where she was in short order. She turned to head off then, looking back over her shoulder as she did so. "Take care." she said to him. "I hope to see you again."
.
"You will," Bright said, smiling. "You've got my card, don't you?" He tipped his hat to her, watched her leave.
It took him a moment to realize he still had the necklace in his hand. He frowned down at it; there was a story in this thing, some kind of significance in it. He sure as hell didn't understand it, but it didn't seem like the best idea to just leave it here. Maybe it would stay here and rust, or maybe the wrong person would find it. The type of person that would connect it to Eris and find her. After a few more long moments of staring at it, he slipped it into his coat pocket; it wasn't like anyone would expect him to have it. Hell, it wasn't like anyone even knew who he was. Just a piano player, part of the atmosphere.
He turned and went in the opposite direction Eris had gone, slowly making his way towards the docks. He had a Steinway to pick up.