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/! where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Sam 15 Juin 2019 - 22:37
Scottish weather always reminded its dwellers of chill and the comfort of fireplaces, even as the first days of summer were upon them. The open window let in the fresh, whispering wind of dusk, smells of the Moray firth tides carried inside the music class. Another school year had gone by, the Scot's second as a teacher. Hungcalf had been both his home and his prison, as a student : Evan never would have dreamt of calling the wizarding university his new place of comfort, back then. He had been young, strong-headed and charming, with enough wits to carry him through his classes with an ever elegant ease, eternally annoying most of his classmates (and most of his teachers). The giant sat at his piano, absent-mindedly playing a simple tune he had learned as an adolescent. Wordless, the lyrics shone in his mind as clear as the stars starting to appear in the pastel-coloured sky. A song of rocks and tides, longing and melancholy - the joy of sadness, a french writer had called it. His heart was seized by the soft feeling, and the professor let it envelop him as a veil. Towering over his favorite instrument, he thought of everything teaching had brought him. A strange peace, closure, the notion of a cycle being completed at last. A small smile painted on his face, the musician closed his eyes, imagining a violin accompanying him. With a flick of his wand, he made one play accordingly - the true instrument of those who needed to carry music with them. Pianos were less mobile, for all their grace and emotion - maybe that was why the witty giant favored the fife as well.
As a student, he had been his own version of a pest, the wizard was well aware of it. As a teacher, well ... one might say he hadn't changed that much on that count (especially since he was now immune to other faculty member's threats). As a teacher, Evan was his own brand of high standards tainted with a strong tendency towards humor. His kindness was almost as well known as hishorriblefabulous necktie collection, but he was as hard a professor as the establishment needed him to be. Kindness did not keep him from expecting excellence from his students, and if it was understood he enjoyed a good session of verbal duels with them, one had to be quick to match his wits, especially in his own classroom. Perhaps it was the ease that came from talking with the giant which had also made him cultivate privileged relationships with a few select students. Amongst them glowed a little flower - the one he was patiently waiting for (he was early, in any case). At first, she had been a talented student of his, a member of the choir. He'd always remember the moment he had found her crying, incapable of walking away - he had always been the shining one, who brought laughter where others saw darkness. Little dove. He had been her comfort, she had become the closest thing the professor had to a daughter. Evan loved the student ferociously. Eyes closed, he heard her discreet steps as she walked in - the distinctive grace of dancers. « Hello, little dove », he said, the warmth obvious in a deep, soft voice tainted with his distinctive scottish accent. « what songs shall you sing me tonight? »
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Dim 16 Juin 2019 - 0:24
WHERE'S MY DAMN SHOTGUN?!
EVAN & POPPY
Throughout her childhood, nothing could make Poppy happier than the prospect of getting out of school. The arrival of the summer holidays meant that she would be able to stay home surrounded by her little furry friends, to travel to France to visit family and, most of all, to spend hours with her father looking for creatures to observe in the wilderness. But after her dad pasted away everything got darker, as if the light had faded from the world as he'd taken his last breath. The summers afterward had looked like a poorly written tragedy. For years her mother had stayed home, secluded, incapable of performing the simplest of actions even less taking care of her children. The young girl had then seen her time split between long, difficult weeks at home playing nurse to her mother and joyful moments across the sea at her grandparents'. This year wouldn't be any different, except for the fact that this time around she would have to tell the woman who had given birth to her that she was a few months away from doing the same. Before that, she'd decided to share the news with the man who had acted as a father to her in the past couple of years. Easier said than done.
Her teacher had scheduled a rehearsal session with the bee after her usual danse practice on this dank Saturday night. She had barely had the time to make it from the dance studio to the music class without being late and was still wearing her sweaty outfit. She had traded her ballet shoes for a pair of black Vans and a loose white shirt was covering her ever-growing belly. When she entered the room her teacher was already sitting behind his piano. « Hello, little dove. » The glow in his voice reassured her: she had made it in time, or else he would have let her know. As close as those two had grown, the giant wasn't less rigorous than he was with his other students. « 'Evening Evan. » The tremor in her voice echoed in the empty room. Fear creeped in the depth of her bones.
She wasn't ready.
She couldn't face the disappointment she knew she'd have to read in her mentor's eyes. « What songs shall you sing me tonight? » At least that was an easy question to answer. A smile grew on her face as she dig music sheets up from her bag. Handing them to the red-haired Scottish titan, she suggested: « I thought we could work on some Waitress material? I have a couple songs I'd like your opinion on. » Standing behind her teacher, she voluntarily coughed, letting him know that she'd like to take his place behind the keys. She sat on the hollowed out cushion of the stool and started playing. A few seconds later, the place was filled with the round sound of the instrument and the soft vibration of her voice.
- ♪:
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Ven 28 Juin 2019 - 13:46
There was a different flavour to the little bee, that evening - the professor couldn't tell what it was. Even if they shared a peculiar bond, the Scot hadn't known her long enough to be able to distinguish her every nuance. He did know something was off, in her way of saying hello to him, her voice shaking ever so slightly. Nevertheless, he ignored it, deciding Poppy knew she could talk to him if she needed to. « What songs shall you sing me tonight? » His tone was soft and welcoming - Evan welcomed all students, but he couldn't deny having favorites (though it never showed on their report cards). Softness and warmth didn't mean the end of fairness. He watched the smile return to her face as she pulled her music sheets, taking the treasure as she held it out. His eyes ran on the notes and the title - Waitress. What baking can do. « I thought we could work on some Waitress material? I have a couple songs I'd like your opinion on. » The professor was relatively well-versed in older musicals, knowledge inherited from the years he had spent with Muggle artists, but this one must have been recent. No bother, the little flower didn't seek his creative talents to critique the story.
Evan moved aside, letting the witch take his place. More often than not, he sat beside her when she played, but the musician remembered the tremor in her voice, earlier : he wanted to see her face. Most good singers were particularly honest in their expression, when they sang - Poppy was no exception to the rule. It would make her efficient in sharing feeling with her future public ... and today, it would perhaps allow him a glimpse in her psyche. The notes were cheerful, their rythm simple. The professor's eyes were focused on his student's face and posture as she sang, shaking his head in approval as she carried a difficult note properly. The lyrics echoed the simplicity of the music, and it was beautifully executed, but for a few lines of the song. Counting, Evan made a mental note of it and, as she finished, sat next to her. « Good form. Watch out for your posture, you're slouching. It's hindering your voice », he said, pointing towards her stomach. The notes were relatively simple, and the pianist had always had an incredible talent when it came to memorizing a song after listening to it once. He played a particular verse which her voice had lightly tripped on. « Correct me if I'm wrong, I don't know this musical », he started, getting to the lyrics. « When you sing "I can fix this / I can twist it into sugar, butter covered pieces / Never mind what's underneath it / I have done it before" », he said, singing the words as he went, his voice booming from his large torso, « you almost sound defeated. The character should be defiant, it seems », the professor remarked, glancing at his protégée to make sure she was following. She was one of his top students, but being a top student was not enough if she wanted to make it to the stage someday. She had to be perfect.
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Mar 2 Juil 2019 - 22:42
The look the teacher was laying on her was heavy with questions. It didn't translate as a surprise, the wizard knew his protégé enough to feel that something was off. Nevertheless, she kept on acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary and went over her song. When she was done, the giant sat by her side and she shivered a little when his arm brushed past hers. « Good form. Watch out for your posture, you're slouching. It's hindering your voice. », he noted, his gaze pointing to her ever-growing belly. The gesture was natural but it made her uncomfortable and she discreetly made sure that her shirt was correctly hiding her baby bump and straightened her posture, as she had been advised to. The professor carried on with the constructive criticisms, concentrating on the emotion he thought a few lines should bear. A little plot review seemed to be required. « At this point in the show, she has just discovered that she is pregnant. », the student started to explain, almost choking on the last word. She cleared her throat and carried on. « But she is stuck in an unhappy marriage with a first class asshole who physically and mentally abuses her. » The fictional plot hit close to home. She too was stuck in a complicated situation, pregnant with a man who had manipulated her to the point of putting her in his bed - or on his desk to be more accurate, taking advantage of her weakness at a time during which she was lost. « The funny thing about, well not funny but the thing about her is that she tries to solve all of her problems by baking them into extravagant pies. She never really faces her demons, she covers them with a thick layer of sugar. But you're right, she is faking bravery until she grows some balls. » It's about time you grow some too, she thought for herself. The bee started playing from the top and had another go at it, trying to build up the courage that she, like the character she was portraying, needed to face the truth.
She dug deep into her emotions, bringing up the hardships she had encountered throughout her life, modelling them into a fiery ball of courage. The lines she had struggled with a few minutes before had another taste this time around, they were sharp, delivered with strength and a feeling of hope, of light piercing through the thick clouds of doubts. And once again, the last note melted into silence. She had ticked all the boxes this time, she was sure of it. After obtaining the approval of the scot, she turned the pages to the next song she wanted to run by him. Everything Changes. « In this one, she has just given birth and comes to realise that... well, you will see. Would you play for me? » She knew the pianist could work his way through a music sheet in a few seconds, necessitating no more than a look or two at the scribbled paper. She stood up and walked around the piano, posting herself on the small stage that was planted at the back of the room.As the melody filled up the space, she felt her throat tightening. She was scared of what was to come, uncertain of what she would do, of what she was supposed to do. She would be excepted to act in so many ways by so many people in the near future and she wasn't sure she was strong enough to handle it. At the antipodes of what that one song was about. Regardless, she put her entire soul into each and every word, doing her best to grasp the state of mind her character was in. Looking for the silver lightning, creating an alternate reality in which she was fierce, in control, ready to face any obstacle coming at her.
- ♪:
And I will guard it with my life
I'd hang the moon for it to shine
On her sleeping
Starting here and starting now
I can feel the heart of how
Everything changes
The song wasn't long but appeared to last for ages. When the ultimate note died, the witch realised she had instinctively curved her hands over her abdomen. Praying all gods that Evan hadn't noticed, she sat on the hard floor, pulling down her shirt once again. « They are holding auditions. », she said. « For Waitress, in London. They are looking for alternates. »
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Jeu 4 Juil 2019 - 13:37
Was she not tripping on words? Someone else may not have noticed, but the Scot was trained in hearing variations of sound - he'd made a career out of it, after all. Pregnant. Perhaps because his own mind had been fluttering towards the idea of children more and more, recently. Ever since he and Ariadne had come to a realization twenty years in the making, finding themselves locked together in a scarlet tie he'd call his until his death if fate (and the imperious mediwitch) allowed him to. Nearly parentless after his mother's passing when he was fifteen, the ever-brilliant man had wanted nothing more than to have a family of his own. Elena and him had hoped for it, talked about it many times, during their brief marriage, before her tragic passing. Ten years later, the pianist was childless, had almost made his peace with the idea he would never become a father, somehow turning his own regrets into fatherly affection towards the little dove singing ... but there she was. Ariadne had woken hopes he had thought long-lost, and the professor wasn't quite sure what to do with them. She was faithful to her usual role, really - the mediwitch had always loved to throw wrenches at his plans and watch him scramble at it. It was her most annoying trait - and he loved her for it.
Evan's eyes went to Poppy's stomach in an instant, thinking that could explain her sudden lack of posture, as she explained the musical's plot so her professor could give her better pointers. He could hear the tremor in her voice as easily as if it had been written in cursive on her face. The bee straightened out her posture, giving it another go as her professor watched her closely. She really was quite extraordinary, Evan had to admit it - a natural flair for showmanship, and a voice to match. Yet, something was off. Maybe he was imagining things - maybe he was projecting his own dreams on others, and everything was fine. But was it really? The professor simply shook his head in approval as she finished the second reprise of the song.
« In this one, she has just given birth and comes to realize that... well, you will see. Would you play for me? » There it was again. The slight variation in the tone. He must have been imagining things, it was impossible. Poppy was bright, she had a brilliant future ahead of her, they had plans to make her shine, surely, she would have been careful. No, he decided. Not his student. Impossible. She was smarter than that. Evan shook his head, taking only a quick glance at the new sheet before his agile fingers moved on the piano. The musician felt his stomach tighten. He would have liked to tell her that she was safe here, too. The little dove could tell him anything, he'd guard her ferociously against the world. As she finished, he saw her hands on her belly. « They are holding auditions. For Waitress, in London. They are looking for alternates. » Evan needed a moment. Half a second, really, to get back from the pit of emotions her song had opened under his feet, this well of primal protectiveness. His eyes were humid, he couldn't deny it, but he felt no shame about it - their emerald brightness tightened around the student's face, and he smiled. « I have a wee bit of free time during the summer, if you'd like to come practice at the Lovingblow », he said, before pausing. The giant turned his posture, to face the bee and make sure she was listening. « You know you're safe here, little dove. Don't you? », he asked, his voice vibrant with the feelings of longing her last song had woken in him.
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Dim 7 Juil 2019 - 16:46
He had felt his chest tighten at the idea that Poppy could have been so irresponsible, denying in his head that hisdaughterprotégée could never be so reckless. She was smarter than that, the little redhead, she had such a bright future ahead of her! How could she have thought so little of consequences. Evan felt a strange, protective type of anger grow in him, ready to rip the throat of the culprit - it couldn't be Poppy, after all, even if it took two for this type of tango. Disbelief and disappointment rushed through him, and his expression tightened in a mask which came crashing down as he saw the tears upon the bee's face. This time, there was intention in the way she held herself, the criminal belly in which a stranger grew, a stranger who would smash her plans. Did she think she would be able to get to Broadway in her condition, let alone with a toddler? Was she aware that all her hard work was about to escape her, all for this mistake? There it was again, the disbelief. How could she have been so reckless?
But she fell to the ground, voice broken, and Evan's heart shattered as he heard her words. « I... I am so sorry Da. » He didn't catch the mistake - the scot wasn't the student's father, far from it. He had never known the joy of calling children his, but if he had been asked, the giant would not have lied. Evan loved the young woman as he would have a daughter, and he would have torn armies apart to keep her safe. The pianist picked himself up from the piano bench, joining Poppy on the wooden floor. Poppy was as pliable as a doll, her sobs lifting her chest to the rythm of her shame. Evan sat behind her, each leg cradling the student. « There's nothing to be sorry for, calman bodachan* », he whispered. Gently, he brought her against his large chest, as one would do with a child. Softly, Evan whispered words in gaelic which she couldn't understand, but it didn't matter - the tone was soft, the words were sweet, and all he wanted was for her to stop shaking from her misery. « How long? », he asked, his fingers gently caressing her hair. His other arm was wrapped around her, trying to show the little flower with acts that he'd keep her safe as long as she'd need a harbour in this storm.
- Spoiler:
little dove*
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Jeu 11 Juil 2019 - 21:20
The professors' arms tightened around the bee's shaking body. She had not even heard him get up and walk in her direction in the midst of all her deafening whimpering. The warmth of his giant body against her fragile one embalmed her and she soon started to breath again. « There's nothing to be sorry for, calman bodachan. », he whispered in her ear. The tone was calm and protective, however they both knew he wasn't speaking the truth. She was ruining everything. The long hours they had spent rehearsing, the numerous trips he had taken her on to educate her to the ways of show business, the uncountable number of books and music sheets he had dug out of the world's archives for her to study. All their hard work, all that he had invested in her, she felt like she was burning it all to the ground. « How could I have been so stupid?! », she asked with slimy bubbles coming out of her nose. All the senses she had put in her thoughts the past few days had vanished. Her eyes were as swollen as on that first night after the tests had appeared to be unmistakably positive. She was lost in a forest of doubts once more with no path to guide her out.
The scot brought her closer to his chest, anchoring his grip on the witch. She knew it was out of caring, that the man had nothing but good intentions towards her but she felt stuck, unable to move, the same way she had been on the day her child had been conceived. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath - it's alright, she thought to herself, he is not him. As if he had been reading her mind, the pianist let go of one of her sides and drew his fingers through her hair. The movement was so familiar she could feel her father's touch through his own and her heart instantly slowed down. « How long? », he asked. The tension in his voice was perceptible, he was angry and she wasn't able to tell if it was with her, with the man who had gotten her pregnant or with the entire world. She gently put a hand on the man's forearm and opened her eyes. « Nine weeks. We had our first visit at Saint Mary yesterday. »
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Mar 16 Juil 2019 - 23:01
It was a strange thought, to both feel regret as a mentor and as a father figure. Part of him felt the waste of hours of training, but that wasn't what Poppy needed to hear. She knew it, of course she did, the student was brilliant and talented - was that not why the red giant had taken her under his proverbial wing? In part, only. The little bee had this peculiar brand of vulnerability and strength that had called to the professor, as a shield invited both to be polished and used against enemies. He'd be her shield, Evan had decided it long ago. « How could I have been so stupid?! » He brought her close to him, a reflex - hoping somehow, the beating of their hearts would calm her, his hand reaching towards the river of red hair falling from the sobbing little figure he was cradling. « How long? », he finally asked, his pianist fingers lightly making their way through the knots that had formed in her hair, his other arm keeping her close to his chest. The tension he felt was not aimed towards the little dove, but Evan couldn't have sworn he wouldn't lash out if he ever lay his hands on the culprit who had ruined his protégée's chances. « Nine weeks. We had our first visit at Saint Mary yesterday. »
Poppy's fingers on his forearm lightened his own posture, and Evan relaxed (a little). « We? », he asked. Who was this man? Was he a good person, deserving of the flower? Nobody would ever truly deserve Poppy in Evan's mind, but if the culprit was decent, then maybe he wouldn't get thrown off from the astronomy tower by a raging banshee of a Scot. The music professor exhaled, his long breath carrying all the sadness he felt at this moment. Suddenly, Evan felt as if he were fifty. What strange paradox, that the young woman who was like a daughter to him carried a child as Evan himself wanted to revisit the idea. His eyebrows frowning, worry obvious in his forest-green eyes, he kept the dancer close to him, his fingers continuing their deft work. A hurricane was growing inside his chest, though the little flower's hand on his large forearm helped the Scot center himself again. « Is the father a decent man, Poppy? » Or so help me God, I'll make him be decent. « Do you have everything you need? I'll help you in any way I can, calman bodachan ». I'll never leave, little dove.
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Mar 30 Juil 2019 - 23:50
It did not take very long for the bee's heart to sync with the rhythm the fingers of her mentor brushing through her hair had created. The regularity of the stroke was deeply calming, a kind of mediation in itself, almost a satisfying goal to achieve. She felt the southing feeling had made its way to Evan as well, his fingers were starting to feel softer against her own skin. Until she mentioned her visit to Saint Mary. Was the fact that she did not go alone so surprising? Was he expecting the child to not have a father, to have appeared miraculously? Magic could do a lot, but so far it had never created life in any other way than the one known by both wizards and muggles. Or had he seen right through her and known right away that she had been played, little red riding hood trapped by the big bad wolf, a fool pregnant with a man who could never know.
« Yes, we. », she answered, sounding irritated when she had no motive, nor any right to. After all, she had never mentioned anyone recently, not that she did so very often. They were pretty secretive in that way, as close to father and daughter as they could be. Poppy's love life wasn't Evan's favorite subject, she knew it very well and even she felt a little uncomfortable talking about it with the scot. « Riley. Riley Fraser came with me. », she said, hoping her answer would be enough. It was not and the redheaded teacher kept on going with his investigation as if he was gathering crucial information before leaving on a man's hunt. « Is the father a decent man, Poppy? » What to say? How to answer? The biological father for sure was not anything close to decent, but Riley was. He was much more than that. He was the foundation on which the witch's entire life had rested those past couple of weeks. He had stepped in, putting on a pair of shoes he knew nothing about, just for her.
He was pure.
He was good.
And he was hers.
The thought hit her and without even realising, she smiled. « He... I would lie if I said he was. », she started. She would have to lie to the entire world but she could not keep the truth from him, not when she could feel his blood boiling inside his veins because of her. « But Riley, he is more than decent. », she continued, squeezing her shivering body away from the warmth of the giant's chest so to be able to face him. He asked about her needs and she showed a half smile as she reached for his hand. « I still have a lot to figure out. », she answered straight away. She still had to figure everything out, if we are honest, but in this instant a single question burned her lips. « Do you think I'm strong enough? » please say yes « to do it all » please say I do « to be a mom... and a performer. » please tell me it's not over.
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Sam 3 Aoû 2019 - 14:50
The professor was on edge, hesitating between the sincere need to comfort the bee and to go give someone a beating, as if children happened by accident and only by one person's fault. There was nothing rational about it - in Evan's mind, Poppy was pure and perfect. Surely, it had to be somebody else's fault. All he needed was a name. « Yes, we. Riley. Riley Fraser came with me ». There it was. The name of the boy he'd snap like a bloody twig. Yet Evan needed to know, first. « Is the father a decent man, Poppy? » The pianist felt the bee's hesitation almost as much as he heard it, cradling her in his arms as he would a child, his hands in the student's hair with all the gentleness he was capable of. « He... I would lie if I said he was. » And suddenly, everything was on fire. Evan's body tensed up again, the professor was ready to jump and find the culprit and hang him by his ankles in the forest until some creature would relieve him of his miserable existence. The Scot hadn't even known this kind of anger could exist in him. « But Riley, he is more than decent. » Puzzled, Evan looked at the back of her amber locks. Was he not the father? But he now had a name. « He'd better be », the red giant growled between his teeth. Evan didn't know anything about this Fraser boy, but he knew that from now on, the student had a target on his back. If he strayed just one inch ... Well, falling from the astronomy tower could be make to look like an accident. Poppy moved away from his chest to face him, and Evan smiled. A tender, sad expression, as he pushed away a stray hair from her face, asking if she needed anything from him.
« I still have a lot to figure out », she said, reaching for his hand. « Do you think I'm strong enough? To do it all. To be a mom... and a performer. » How Evan wished he could lie, in this instant. Tell her that she could go on her auditions without a worry, that the flower could do both. The professor saw a glimmer of hope in her hazel eyes, and wished he could tell her their plans could carry on. He smiled, this small smile one uses to speak to children, without even realizing it, cradling both her hands between his pianist fingers. How small she looked, he thought, and all he wished for was to hide her from the world. « You're strong enough to carry the entire world on your shoulders and make it look as if it were wings lifting you, little dove », Evan said, a kind smile on his face, his green eyes searching for hers. « But realistically, I don't know if your Waitress plans will happen right now. I know nothing about pregnancy, Elena and I ... » He stopped. Even after all this time, even after completing what had been a ten-year long grief cycle, Evan had trouble saying her name, thinking about his ballerina. How they'd hoped for children, even with their artist life, ever moving and everything but stable. « We weren't blessed in our short time », he simply said. Carefully, he chose his words, trying to create a balancing act between reality and hope. « But I do know how taxing performing can be, and I don't think both can be done at once ... At least until your child is born, if that's what you choose ». Poppy did seem to want to keep the unborn child, but surely she knew there were other options, if she didn't wish to stray from her dreams. « After the birth, well ... You won't be alone to carry this load. Who knows? Maybe we'll make a musician out of her ». A sparkle danced in his eyes - « maybe she'll even like neckties ».
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Lun 2 Sep 2019 - 16:45
« You're strong enough to carry the entire world on your shoulders and make it look as if it were wings lifting you, little dove » The words were soft and caring, but no matter the amount of hope that burned inside her, Poppy knew more was coming, more that wasn't going to calm her soul. « But realistically, I don't know if your Waitress plans will happen right now. I know nothing about pregnancy, Elena and I ... » She recognized the grey glimmer that had grown in his eyes when he had pronounced her name. All the love and the grief building up to become the smallest hint of sparkle in his gaze. Her mother had the same, at all time, her who had not been able to keep the grief from swallowing her whole. She had wished on many occasions she had been able to meet her professor's late wife. He had told her tales of the ballerina, of their life on the road together, of her talent. She would have learned so much with such a model to follow. And maybe then, she would have made a different décision, maybe then she would have given them the child they had dreamed of.
« But I do know how taxing performing can be, and I don't think both can be done at once ... At least until your child is born, if that's what you choose. » « But after it's born? I mean, I won't be alone, Riley will be there. And Neo. And Aphrodite. And... you. » She hadn't told her brother yet, neither had she her roommate. But she knew that, even if they didn't understand at first, they would come around and be there for her no matter what. As for her teacher, she didn't want to put him in a difficult situation by involving him more than he already was, the school journal would make up the craziest stories from the whole thing. But he was a father to her and she wanted her child to be as blessed as she was by having him in their life. « Maybe we'll make a musician out of her. Maybe she'll even like neckties » The thought of a tiny human wearing a tie made her giggle. Even in the craziest of moments, the scot had a gift to make her relax. « What makes you think it's a girl? » It was still too soon to find out, there was no way he could know already. And she wasn't sure she wanted to know anyway. She had had nightmares about a baby looking exactly like its birth father, a perfect replica that had made her wake up soaked to the bone, crying silently between her sheets. But the question of the gender hadn't really crossed her mind. « I can't let go of my dreams. But I can't let go of this child either, Evan. I just can't. You know how hard it was for my mother to have children, what if this is my only chance? What if I never have another chance at a family of my own? » She had wanted to be a mother for as long as she could remember. And even if that child had arrived sooner than she had planned, in conditions she had never imagined would happen, she wanted it in the depth of her bones. « And if I fail, well I still have my father's researches, don't I? » She hadn't decided yet on what she would give up on, during the next year. She could not keep up with the intensity of all of her courses and her work at the Rainbow club, maybe she would keep her promise in the end. « But I am going to audition for Waitress. », she added, screwing her look into his. « I might not get it, but I might. And that would mean I am good enough to make it. Plus, I won't be showing for a while and it's a muggle show - a couple enchantments when the bump starts to really show and nobody will see the difference. ». The sarcasm in her voice was obvious. She didn't really mean that last part, or did she? But she wanted to try herself anyway, to have the outside world confirm her talent was enough. That she was enough.
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Re: /!\ where's my damn shotgun?! + poppy (terminé)
Mar 10 Sep 2019 - 0:38
Her defiance made the professor smile. The way she held herself even as his arms held her, the pitch her voice took when she talked about her plans. Poppy could have told the entire world to fuck off kindly and somehow made it look like she was doing them all a favor. In that instant, the pianist loved the little dancer more still - maybe because he had always felt a profound disdain towards limits himself. Smiling, the giant shook his head as she asked him if he'd be there to help when the baby would be born, listening to her defiance, her insistance on auditioning. « I'll come with you, little dove. If you'll have me », Evan added with a careful glance towards the student. Though theirs was a close relationship, the musician treaded carefully when it came to the possibility of overstepping his boundaries. « I still know how to prep a singer for her auditions, after all », he tried to jest, smiling - but his eyes didn't smile anymore.
He had to know.
The Scot couldn't say what had pushed him to ask the question, to want to know the truth. The student had told him her intended father's name, wasn't that enough? What reason could he possibly have to want to know the identity of this other man? Deep down, he knew. He knew, because though clan laws no longer were inforced in the Wakefield family, he knew the weight of honor, the lengths at which a father could go to avenge his daughter. He had no right, but since when had the musician ever paid any attention to what rules told him to do? « Who? » And so, she whispered the bloody words. They hit him like a warhammer would, even with her soft tone - he heard the shame she must have felt so much that he felt it in his bones. The professor's face hardened as his green eyes pierced through the classroom he had shared with this assistant. The tall walls, the wooden desk ... Where he had comforted students, taught them, punished them ... Where he had wanted for his students to feel safe, the kind of safety one finds by reaching for their voice. Evan had wished so hard for it, for his pupils to feel the serenity and incredible energy that had soothed his own troubled soul when he was an unhappy student himself, stuck in a mold he could never seem to escape. Someone had felt unsafe in here. His sanctuary of song and art. His owndaughterpupil, his favorite student. The wave of rage swelled in him, a cold brand of anger that could have scared better men - and that fraction of a human being was not one of them. A hard, determined streak in his eyes, Evan brought the little bee to his chest once more, to his shirt smelling of whisky and honeysuckle. Gently, he kissed her hair, with all the love he could muster even if all he felt was rage. « Do you want him gone? » No soft nickname, no little dove, this time. He whispered the question at the top of her head, inaudible, to let Poppy pretend she hadn't heard him, hadn't understood the threat growling under his breath. « It'll be done. Go somewhere safe, calman bodachan », the giant said, lifting her up as he got back to his feet himself. Slowly, Evan put back a stray strand of flaming hair behind Poppy's shoulder, and turned away without a sound.
He had a man to throw from the astronomy tower.RP terminé.
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