Priscilla "Priss" Sonoma Asagiri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burning_highway) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
outer_divide2014-07-13 12:00 am
burning_highway) wrote in outer_divide2014-07-13 12:00 am
[Video] Oh my, feels just like I don't try. [Sunday morning, Week 66]
[Priss says nothing at all for a very long, drawn out moment, just staring at the camera like it might bite her... or like she might bite it. It's wariness from someone whose fight or flight instincts are most assuredly 'fight'. But this isn't the puzzled stare of someone unfamiliar with technology; she's framed perfectly, lit marvelously, and there isn't a trace of confusion in her sharp, unfriendly stare. She's found jeans, boots, and a t-shirt somewhere, all of which are too large for her, and she's sitting on the ground, leaning back against a wall. The camera is propped up on something; her hands are visible, bruised almost black.]
Hello, Poseidon.
[Her expression sours briefly at the unfamiliar word, like she doesn't like the taste of it; the pronunciation is a bit wonky, with the language barrier, though not so wonky that the communicators have any problem subtitling the translation. Priss looks away from the camera, possibly figuring out what to say. When she looks back again, it's with a slight, one-shouldered shrug under the loose shirt.]
Any of you any good on guitar?
[Probably not the expected question from a new face, that. She draws one leg up, bent sharply at the knee, one of her arms draped over it. There are many scabbed-over circular puncture wounds visible where her loose t-shirt leaves her arms bare. Several are stitched shut, where scabbing alone couldn't cut it, and much of the rest of her visible skin is a canvas of severe bruising from the jaw down. She looks like someone who should be in a hospital, honestly. But good luck making her stay in one.]
I guess I could use a drummer now, too.
[A soft snort, and Priss glances up at the sky before looking at the camera again.]
...But you gotta be good, or you're not worth my time.
Hello, Poseidon.
[Her expression sours briefly at the unfamiliar word, like she doesn't like the taste of it; the pronunciation is a bit wonky, with the language barrier, though not so wonky that the communicators have any problem subtitling the translation. Priss looks away from the camera, possibly figuring out what to say. When she looks back again, it's with a slight, one-shouldered shrug under the loose shirt.]
Any of you any good on guitar?
[Probably not the expected question from a new face, that. She draws one leg up, bent sharply at the knee, one of her arms draped over it. There are many scabbed-over circular puncture wounds visible where her loose t-shirt leaves her arms bare. Several are stitched shut, where scabbing alone couldn't cut it, and much of the rest of her visible skin is a canvas of severe bruising from the jaw down. She looks like someone who should be in a hospital, honestly. But good luck making her stay in one.]
I guess I could use a drummer now, too.
[A soft snort, and Priss glances up at the sky before looking at the camera again.]
...But you gotta be good, or you're not worth my time.
Re: Video
Re: Video
[It honestly hadn't occurred to her that a kid wouldn't know if there were clubs or not; she'd started singing on stage pretty young, wearing little enough. Her town was a fucked up place like that, and her home ward even more.]
So I bet you like fast music, then. Anything in particular?
Video. I went to a great deal of trouble to find something that wasn't jizz
[THey were probably his mom's. But maybe they could be cool anyway.]
In which Priss has no idea she's talking to a *temporary* kid. 8D
[Priss smirks a little at that, leaning back a little more against the wall she's sitting back against.]
Well, maybe if I do this thing, you can come to a show. Just depends on where I play... I don't usually get booked at places that let kids in.
[Granted, she doesn't usually try to get booked anywhere but Hot Legs, anymore. But since Hot Legs in all its tacky glory isn't here...]
It's a hard thing to expect
I don't know where they want musicians here... there's gotta be somewhere though right?
It's convenient; she's automatically friendlier with kids. XD
[Priss leans forward enough to prop her chin on the back of her wrist, draped over her knee, expression going thoughtful.]
I mean, I guess there's always busking, but I think I'd almost rather do manual labor.
[Almost. Priss glances off-camera.]
Well, kid, I'm going to go try to get hold of a guitar. Maybe I'll play something on air in a few days.
[Like, once her fingers aren't practically black with bruising.]
Probably won't be a fast song, though. That calls for more instruments.