capeandcowllogs | An earthquake hits the theater, but the operetta lingers...

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An earthquake hits the theater, but the operetta lingers...

WHO: Pink Floyd and Midii Une
WHERE: CU Center for the Arts, Staten Island.
WHEN: Friday evening.
WARNINGS: None yet.
SUMMARY: Pink and Midii go to a concert.
FORMAT: Prose to start, then whichever.

He can't shake the sense of dread. The feeling that things are coming to an end. It's a feeling he's familiar with. But what can he do about it? (Maybe he deserves it. But no, no, he did what he had to.) So instead, he scrambles like a dying man to accomplish what he can, to achieve closure while he has the chance.

The City Philharmonic Brass is playing this weekend. (And he has to respect their dedication, keeping to their schedule despite the devastation the city's just experienced.) He wants to see them play. And he wants to take someone. And as luck would have it, there's someone he's owed a concert for a very long time.

He waits outside the venue for Midii, dressed appropriately for the occasion -- of course.

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Midii was fairly observant for a child of her age. She was fairly observant for an adult more than twice that. So she knew something was wrong just by the way Pink had been acting. He was nervous. Tense. Knew something that he wasn't willing to share.

Of course, she may have been observant, but she was by no means telepathic. Everything she saw could have just as easily been attributed to the horrors that had recently gone down in the City. Something she had absolutely no intentions of discussing that evening.

Her escape route had brought her to Long Island, in a small hamlet somewhere in Nassau County. The trip to Staten Island was actually right on her return route, and she wondered if he had been planning it all along. He'd been promising her a concert for some time, after all, and what better way to unwind than a trip to the local Arts Center?

And so it was, she arrived via Taxi at the designated meeting time, dressed in a simple but elegant style. Ready to greet both her friend and the music that awaited them inside.

It had been nothing as intricately planned as that. Sure, location had been considered, but he would have dragged them both out to bloody Jersey for the right show, if he thought he had to. The music was the priority. Still, he wouldn't complain that it did work out as nicely as it did.

He had been skimming through the network on his comm, as she stepped out of the cab, and only noticed her when she was quite nearby, when he looked up from the device for a moment. Oh! He shut it off and slipped it into his pocket, then gave her a small, tired smile and beckoned her closer. "Hullo, darling. You look lovely."

She beamed up at him.

"Thank you." A quick assessment of his own state of dress, and she was able to return the compliment with full sincerity. "I have never been to a live concert before. Only heard them on the radio."

"You're in for a treat. This ain't quite -- it's just the brass, not the full orchestra, or a four man thing, but it'll still stand on its own. And I'll stop myself from talking your ear off 'bout all the different sorts of concerts there are..." He started up the steps, reaching to get the tickets out of his pocket.

"You look like you dealt with the mess last week alright."

"It is still more than I ever thought I would be able to see." Obviously, this was a child merely grateful for the opportunity. "And you may talk as much as you like. I enjoy listening to you talk about music. You look happier when you do."

Her smile briefly flickered when he mentioned current events, but she held her own. "The fact that I was able to get away so soon helped. Your plans were invaluable."

"Long as you know you can tell me to shut my gob any time." Because he would talk a person to death about music and everything to do with it.

His smile faded, too, at her notice of his part in the whole debacle. Unease on his face and in his heart. "Least there's that." He could try to take heart in that. "I was glad to hear you were alright."

"Thanks to you."

She looked away as they approached one of the Ushers, missing the unease. The young man at the door gave her a dashing smile as he handed her a program for the evening. Handing a second one to Pink, he wished them both a pleasant evening.

Floyd wouldn't argue with her. He didn't want to torture himself that badly. And, well -- it was true, wasn't it? He'd saved people who wouldn't have been, otherwise. He just smiled faintly, and did his best to think of better things.

He nodded to the usher, and headed down with Midii to their seats.

"There's as many different kinds of concerts, really, as there are sorts of music. The whole thing... I feel... should be adding another level to the experience. Not just listening to the music. Being there for it. And everything that can go along with it."

Her attention alternated between the program in her hands and his speech as they made their way to their designated row. Somewhere mid-theater. She would be able to see everything.

"What kind of concert would you call this, then?"

"Classical. 'bout as classical as it comes, really. If it were a full orchestra... even so."

Ah, there were their seats. He scooted on over, and sat down, folding up awkwardly into the seat.

"...it's inside, seated, got the act at the front... and look at the way everything's lit and decorated." He gestures around them. "All meant to make you expect certain things, do certain things, feel a certain way."

'Classical' could mean any number of things, but Midii chose to remain quiet. Knowing his continued elaborations would most likely shed more light on what they were about to experience.

Her seat was particularly stubborn in comparison to her lightweight frame. She had to awkwardly bounce in her seat a few times before getting into a comfortable enough position where it would not attempt to fold her back into itself.

"How exactly am I supposed to feel, then?"

He tried not to look amused at her fight with the seat. He really, honestly did. He tried, but he failed, unable to completely hide his grin.

"Impressed. Like you're here for something big and important and expensive, that ought to be respected. Just a bit uncomfortable. Though that may not have been intended, I find it holds true. Keeps you paying attention."

"Respect the music. Got it." She shifts around a little more, then looks down with a frown. "Uncomfortable. Also got it."

"Mm. Yeah." Okay, he's lost the battle not to smile, but he can at least manage to avoid giggling. "Makes you feel any better, I don't fit right, either." He raised a long, skinny leg up a few inches. "Not designed for anyone, really. But you get used to it after a few minutes."

After a few more wiggles, Midii eventually gives up. Returning her attention to the program. There were a handful of selections to be performed that evening, and she guessed the concert would be a few hours at least. Possibly an intermission.

"I do not recognize any of these songs." Though she hardly sounded upset by the revelation. "Are they all from this time? It does not give dates. Just a lot of names."

He checked the program again, skimming over the names. "Mm. Yeah. All the past hundred years or so. Berlioz is actually one of my favorite composers -- he wrote the Symphonie fantastique, absolutely beautiful. Have I sent you that, yet?"

Her ears perk up at the name.

"Berlioz?" She goes back over the program one more time. "His name, I do know. But I have only heard a few of his songs before. He was Papa's favorite." It was the reason she had renamed one of her cats after the French composer.

"Then your papa had good taste. He was absolutely brilliant. Lot of spectacle, great big arrangements -- a thousand musicians for a single piece -- and spectacular music, not just spectacle without substance..." He gestured excitedly, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm. "I'm gonna have to send you a copy of the Symphonie, soon as I can get it."

"Yes, please."

The lights overhead began to flicker, signaling the performance was starting. Already, Midii could hear the faint brassy tones of the instruments warming up. Raw, unrehearsed, and dissonant. Yet somehow still beautiful.

Her eyes followed each face as the stage lights were adjusted, and thus knew exactly when the conductor would emerge. A round of introductory applause burst from the audience, and Midii was more than happy to join in. Bows. An introduction she only half listened to. Baton, raised.

The music began.

As soon as the lights dimmed, Pink shut the hell up, sitting up straight and almost coming to attention as he turned toward the front. He knew what was expected at a performance of this type, and he knew what he wanted out of his own audiences. Not even just silence. Attention. Respect. They put their lives into this, it was the least he could do to listen.

So he did. The music swelled, filling the room like a thing with physical presence. The brass shone and glittered under the lights. And before long, Pink had closed his eyes, getting lost in these old songs.

Midii didn't so much as blink. She had heard music of this style for most of her young life, but watching it being performed...seeing...was a different experience entirely. The way the large baritones shimmered beneath the spotlight. The gracefully sliding of the trombones. Sharp, yet blurred movements of the trumpet player's fingers.

At one point, she might have forgotten to breathe.

Most children would have grown bored, or at least antsy from sitting for so long. She, on the other hand, remained still. Captivated.

Pink listened quietly, occasionally closing his eyes, or moving his lips silently, in time with the music. When he looked over, and saw how enthralled Midii was, he smiled. And didn't do a damn thing to pull her attention away from the music.

The musicians played through their pieces, in very good form (not top form, but considering how the City had fared this week, they couldn't really be faulted), and when the last notes faded, and the lights went up for intermission, Pink sighed and stretched his legs out, and looked to Midii again.

"That was only half the concert?" She couldn't help asking, out of pure amazement. "There was so much music!"

"Only half," he confirmed with a crooked grin. "No sense in doing things small, hm? Intermission, we can stretch our legs if we like, get some water..."

She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until he mentioned it. Nodding, she hopped out of her seat, trying not to make a show of rolling her shoulders too much. Loosening the muscles that had been so stiff throughout the performance.

"There was a fountain near the restrooms. I can get some water there."

"Sounds like a good plan. I'll come along, hm?"

Because he needed to stretch his legs -- yeah, he was used to being too tall for a lot of things, but still, ow -- and make a visit to the loo, as well.

"Hmm." A nod.

It took several moments for the majority of the audience to clear out. Several of them were on the elderly side, and there were far too few exists. Midii hung back, eyes scanning over the entire room until she figured which direction would be best for them to travel in.

"That way." Technically, they would be going up, against the flow of traffic, but once they got past the initial crowd, there would be less people between them and the upper level restrooms.

"Lead on." She had a head for these things, right? He was reasonably certain. Clever girl. And he didn't need to go that urgently, anyway, if she did get lost.

Clever, and also surprisingly quick; she slipped her tiny hand into his, leading them to the back of the auditorium with surprisingly little difficulty. People were more willing to accommodate for children, especially polite, young girls, so there was less pushing and more individuals actually moving out of her way.

Sure enough, there was almost no line for either bathroom, and the fountains were unoccupied.

Well, colour him impressed. "Fantastic. If you'll 'scuse me."

Restroom time. Then some water, before they get back to their seats. (If this were a rock show, there'd be bottles of water for sale. But they'd be $3 a piece.)

Business taken care of, Midii once again resumes the brief battle with her chair, finding a fairly comfortable compromise.

Just as they return, the lights begin to flicker again, signaling five minutes until the end of intermission.

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An earthquake hits the theater, but the operetta lingers...

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