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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:33:55 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size]  [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
Emma Silvias often found herself in the position of doing things that she didn't necessarily want to be doing. She didn't get to play the music that she wanted. She didn't get to go to places that she wanted. She didn't get to spend time with the people that she wanted. She got hit and yelled at when she didn't want it. Nothing ever seemed to work out to her advantage though many outsiders might claim that the girl was very lucky. She was talented, bright, and all at the age of eight. Heck, right now the American had been flown overseas to play for some very prominent bands, not that her father would ever let her listen, and she now found herself in the reknown EMI studios to record a little demo for a radio advertisement. New fangled technology and whatnot. Leave it to the Brits.
Her father and her manager, if that was even an appropriate term for the man who followed the two of them around and pretended to turn a blind eye, had forced her to come here in the later hours. The studio was being used by actual bands during the day and even though they had started at seven PM when everyone else had wrapped she still found herself stuck in the recording room for a fifteen second diddy at eleven PM which was obviously past any child's bedtime.
Still Emmy had taken it all on like a seasoned pro. Each time she was instructed or ordered she would play what was asked of her, seemingly effortlessly. Her fingers glided up and down the ivory keys of a grand black piano that practically dwarfed her already small frame. Every once in a while her father's voice would come over the intercom as she was subject to sit all by her lonesome.
"Again." And she would. "Again." And she would. "Again." And she would. This was the routine for the past some odd hours and oddly enough Emmy found comfort in it. It was a routine she knew well and when a routine presented itself she clung to it with all of her might even if it wasn't healthy or what others would recommend. It was all she knew.
"Again." Her hands now pounded against the keys as if the instrument would make a louder sound. All from memory she dictated the conciertos when deep down she knew they would be hacked by whoever the editor was into a ten to fifteen second snippet of nothingness that would get lost and never appreciated. Somehow when adults couldn't see the young child who was playing it they just didn't give a rat's ass. Deep down Emmy dreaded what would happen when she got too old to make money doing this. What that would mean for her father... For her. Hell, she dreaded tomorrow.
"Again." Not even looking up at the two way mirror she bobbed her head as she played. Biting down on her bottom chapped lip she spread her hands outward and then brought them back together. She did her best to become lost in the music like she once had, when it once had the ability to take her away from the cruel world she had been cast in but it seemed this sort of music no longer had that ability. Not when it was forced to seep out of her for someone else's profit. Not when it brought her little to know happiness.
Finishing what must have been the fifteenth rendition of a symphony of some sort she looked up at the glass blinking, expectantly. Waiting for the ever familiar 'again'... But it didn't come. In fact noone stood in the window. It seemed that her manager and father had wandered off, as they tended to, either to share a bottle of scotch in the back alley or in the nearby pub... Leaving her all alone. Great lot they were.
Emmy blinked a few more times taking in the quiet. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not though it was something she was becoming increasingly used to. Unsure of what to do next she glanced to the left and then to the right. Then she cast her gaze back on the window. Still empty. Swallowing she looked back down at the piano keys taking in the shiny blacks and welcoming whites.
Her little hands found their way back and closing her eyes, providing protection from the outside world and she began to play. Not classical this time. No. Far different. This was the very familiar tune of 'I Want To Hold Your Hand'. If there was one thing Emma Silvias was it was complicated.
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// OPEN Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// SORRY, I GOT ANTSY. HOPEFULLY THIS IS OK. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:36:29 GMT -5
617e66  
He closed his eyes as he passed the main room of the Studio, where Brian and another man stood around talking and laughing. He brought his hands up over his eyes while he walked past the doorway.
”Where do you think you’re going, Harrison?”
Brian Epstein’s voice echoed through the studio, stopping George in his tracks, hands still clasped over his eyes as in the usual “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me” gesture. He could just imagine the small, posh accented manager standing with his arms folded, that same disapproving stare laced upon his face. Mother was a hard one. All four of them had learned that. Though they all knew the sincerity in his ways... It was not as if he did not have the best interest for the Band in mind.
George began to hum innocently; still not turning back to return to the room he had slipped out of. Christ! It was so boring waiting around for things to happen! If he wanted something done, he had to do it himself. That included entertainment…
”’eadin’ over to the recordin’ room fer a twang. Be back, mum, with promises, too…” he left his voice on a sure chime. The more convincing the voice, the better. Who says he was out to get into trouble? (cough cough, sure Harry. Sure…)
He could hear Brian sighing, and imagine him shaking his head in stubborn submission, ”There’s already a group in there… You’d be best to wait a bit.”
Another group?! Who?! George’s interest spiked and his hands came down from his face, wide grin emphasizing the dimples of his cheeks. Fresh meat. Lovely. He quickly strode down the hall, bending forward at each door to peer closely at the room labels for the one in particular he was searching for. At last, the recording room came into view, and he turned in, only to be met by a wall of progressing piano music.
There was a bright, cheery atmosphere to this room. A kind of unusual flow of surrounding George could have sworn had not been there before. Usually, the studio was a dark, cramped place where nothing but work seemed to circulate. Not much fun… but this… Piano? Being so use to the twang and beat of guitars and drums, it was a lovely thing, that Piano…
Slowing his pace, he seemed to dance right into the room and collapse onto the lounge sofa within, landing upon his stomach as he stretched lazily over it. Not once did his eyes pick up to the small girl at the Piano. Only his ears remained open to her presence. He smirked, turning his head to watch her as she played… soft and smooth the keys rang out in that oh so familiar song…
” Oh yeah, I´ll tell you something
I think you´ll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand…”
He sang, letting the soft, lyrical progression of his voice fit into the tempo she played at. He could feel the music flowing through his body like the cool waters of a river. Strong and guiding, like something he was meant to do. Meant to be.
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:37:11 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
She sat fairly still at the piano aside from the movement of her hands. Her focus was truly unmatchable by anyone within ten years her age, and sometimes beyond that, as her blue eyes remained focused on the white and black ivory keys in front of her. Some kids her age had a stuffed animal or a blanket, all Emmy had to depend on was the piano and even that relief on the will of her father. If, on a whim, he took that away she'd have nothing and yes, not even that (their bread and butter), was safe from becoming a bargaining, or ordering, chip with him.
"I'll have that piece of sh*& broken to pieces! I swear I will!" He had hollered at her back in the states when they were all alone in the recital hall they had been using as a practice venue. Her manager, unreliable as he was, was no where to be found.
"No! You can't!" She had cried out, shaking to her core the only thing holding her up was her father's strong grasp on her arm which would surely leave a mark.
"I can't?" He was in a rage now as though he had been challenged. "Oh. I can and I will if you don't get your act together. Mister Johanson wants it faster and damnit you better do it."
"But it's not supposed to be..." She whimpered being hurled around like a rag doll. "It's written in three/four time... It's not supposed.." She was roughly thrown onto the piano bench and fell quiet. Her head hung low as her father hovered over her like a vulture.
"Do it." And she had. Head hung low and soul squashed she had played for him as he requested, all the while holding back tears. But they weren't in the states anymore and Emmy had hopes that things would be different... Though so far they showed no sign of any change.
After all of this... It was a miracle she could derive any sort of joy from the instrument at all. But somehow she managed. Or at least she tried to. And this particular attempt involved burrying herself with music and because of this deafening sort of act she was totally oblivious to George entering the room not to mention lounging on the couch. It wasn't until she picked up on his soft singing that her hands froze in midair, her eyes widened, and she froze as though she was a deer being hunted. She didn't even look at the man right away. One second. Two seconds passed though they felt like much longer. She dared to play half of another measure and upon hearing the voice sing despite it all she hopped right up from the bench with a gasp spinning to face the man.
"This room is booked!" She squeaked out with widened doe's eyes only to discover who the perpetrator was. She recognized him right away, Emmy was as much of a fan of the Beatles as she could be, and this only made her even more nervous. Unable to find words she took off and immediately hid... Right under the big piano. Maybe if she was very quiet... He'd go away...
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// YAY! TWO THREADS NOW!. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:38:12 GMT -5
617e66 
Now this was all fine and dandy; George had always been a very audacious character. Perhaps not as much so in public or under the watch of the press and camera, but in a place like the Studio, where he knew his way around, there seemed to be no stopping him. This was his natural habitat! That would have made him smile, if he had not been so absorbed in the music he sang along to. It was as though he were lost in the confines of his own mind. Nothing going in, and nothing coming out but the organized set of lyrics naturally paired with such a song. It was second nature to him, to share his voice with the world. Now, he wasn’t a vain boy, in the least, but when it came to music, what did he have to hide?
Abruptly, though, the music came to a quick silence and his voice felt empty. With nothing to back him up, he slowly abandoned singing and simply blinked with wide brown eyes. He saw the blonde girlie jump from her seat in shock. ’Booked, eh? Not anymore.’ Little Harry chuckled, still starring even after she had dove under the Piano. She couldn’t have been that old, he observed. Seven or eight. Maybe….
Dropping his grin, he let his face befall that of an oblivious child. Large brown eyes blinking innocently as he rolled off the couch on to his hands and knees, crawling over and under the Piano beside her. He looked left and right, then back at Emmy, staring with an almost afraid expression, ”…Eh…Miss… eh, Miss… who’re we hidin’ from?”
[/b] his voice was no more than a whisper, giving the room one last look around, like he was paranoid they’d be caught. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/font]
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged EmmyWORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:38:45 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
Not only could she find comfort from playing the piano but also from hiding under its skeleton apparently. Her little knees up to her chest her arms wrapped around them holding them close she made herself as small as possible even though it wasn't really necessary. Haunted blue eyes stared outward and just beyond the piano's black legs. There wasn't any movement immediately and during this time Emma discovered that she had been holding her breath and if she had been holding it she just about nearly sucked in a lung and choked on it when George crawled under the piano to join her.
Now he was right beside her and she could almost feel the warmth of his body as a result she scooted back an inch nearly whacking her head on the back of a piano leg which she managed to avoid at the last moment. "You." She forced out the honest answer to his question. Emmy didn't know how to be any other way other than honest except when it came to more detailed descriptions about what happened beyond closed doors with her father. Everything else was as clear as black and white.
"I... I know you. You're in my favorite band." She managed to get the words out, uncharacteristically shakey as they were. "You're not my favorite though." Yep, black and white honesty wise with Emmy to be sure though there was no telling if it was a result of her upbringing or an underlying case of undiagnosed aspergers. "Sorry." She offered, and this too was genuine though it wasn't like a member of the Beatles would be horribly offended by anything she had to say.
"Is my time up?" The little girl inquired softly, very worried about what his answer might be. If her time was up that meant she would be kicked out of the room and that meant back to the hotel room with her father... Wherever he was right about now. "Nobody was here to tell me if it was..."
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// THEY ARE CUTE AND A HALF! Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:39:32 GMT -5
617e66
Now, George was not the type to exactly have fear of anything. If there was anything to fear in his life, it was the press. Damned hellions… they were constantly on his tail making up stories to make the lot of them look bad. Or taking small things into large proportions and causing calamity to strike. It got quite tiring after so much of it. But if the cameras didn’t get to you, then certainly the constant expectation of failure would. He Hated failure. They always would say it was “only human” to screw up, but that had never kept George out of the fear of it. What happened to them if he began getting the chills on stage? He couldn’t stop in the middle of a performance to settle out his internal conflicts…
Shaking himself mentally, he refocused back on the scene below. Watching this girl with bright, curious eyes while she fussed. What an honest little thing she was! He quite admired that. But to his worry, she took a scoot back from him, causing a sad frown to cross his lips. Those dark, chestnut brown eyes fall upon her with a slight confusion. Like a puppy denied play time…
“Me? I’m not tha’ scary… maybe a bit homely, but me mother always said I was a looker,”
[/b] he turned his face to her and laughed “’ere, when I get scared, I make faces at whatever it is I’m afraid of… Try ‘et!” George brought his hands to his face and pulled at the corners of his mouth, screwing up his face. He then crossed his eyes and began laughing. Well… that always cheered him up, anyways… “No? Oh, well... I’m my favorite…”[/b] he looked down at his shoes, hugging his legs closer of his chest in a suddenly slightly bashful manner. Nah, George never did get the spot as favorite. Sure, he got the letters and all that lovely stuff, but it was always either John or Paul with the birds hanging over them, mouths dropped in complete awe. It didn’t entirely bother him, being use to it and all, but sometimes it was nice to meet someone who could see even a pinch of good in him. “You wot? Didn’t hear a word of anythin’ like that… So I’d say yer safe.” He offered her a meek smile, closing his eyes as he squished his face together. ”Yer quite the performer missy. Mind playin’ me somethin’ else? I’m awfully bored, and me mummy isn’t ‘round…”[/b] he clasped his hands together and pushed out his bottom lip in a pitiful, begging manner. Even omitting a small, whimpering sound. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/font]
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center] [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:40:20 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
Though she was careful not to move initially not to anger the Beatle she soon found that this intention had swapped for an entirely new one: She now wished to not frighten him off. In fact with every passing second she was coming to realize that George seemed even more worried and sad than she did judging by the childishly sad faces he was making. In fact it seemed that he had coined the sort of pout that he was sporting for many years. This didn't alarm Emmy however she was intrigued enough that she didn't run off and continued to study him.
"You are scary!" She cried out defiantly, catching herself with her raised voice she brought it back down to a whisper. "You're a Beatle." She told him as though it were some big secret. There was some odd irony to the situation. Emma had opened for some big names, she had met the Queen briefly, she had 'befriended' the great Bob Dylan yet each and every time she came face to face with a big name she became shy all of a sudden. Or was it overwhelmed?
Still a bit nervous she found it being washed away when George explained his face making game. Though she had been described as a very mature eight a small part of her found herself being entertained by the logic. Taking it in as though the man was explaining a complicated mathematical equation she finally gave a nod before attempting the act herself. Her nose scrunched up, her eyes went cross, and she stuck out her tongue treating the act very seriously before she relaxed her face after feeling the immense stretch. Well, that was certainly different.
"I like it." She finally declared with a little smile directed toward the man before attempting another face. Same length of time. Same result as she looked matter of factly up at George. "I don't have a mother. She died." She stated with an alarming amount of detachment. She made another funny face before relaxing her expression. "What's it like to be on the television?" Yessir, though a mature eight she still had the attention span sometimes of a goldfish which was being demonstrated in full force at the moment.
"I like Ringo." She confided after yet another silly face moving up onto her little knees in a kneel. "I wish I could play the drums like he does. He plays like this... Watch." And so she would demonstrate as her hands held imaginary drum sticks and she pretended to hit air drums all the while bopping her head with a goofy smile to either side ala Ringo Starr. Halting herself she looked to George and proceeded to run her hands frantically through her hair. "I wish I could play the piano like he plays the drums. His hair moves too but mine doesn't do that."
At George's request she took about three seconds to consider and then settled on the fact that you could not deny a Beatle. Crawling out from under the piano she rose to her feet. "You still have a mom? That must be nice." The piano prodigy said simply before reasserting herself in a seated position in front of the piano. Kicking her legs some she craned her neck down under the piano to peer at the man.
"You sound like a puppy dog." She informed him before straightening up seriously at the instrument and beginning to play: You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog.
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// LOVE IT.! Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:41:02 GMT -5
617e66 
Relief filled his eyes when the girl began to relax slightly in her seat beside him. She ceased her attempts to get away, and actually began conversation. He gave her a coy smile and chuckled at her discovery. Well, now, he had been called many things, pertaining to who he was, but scary? That had to be a new one. He pursed his lips together and tossed his head from side to side, looking around the room as though he were lost, ”a Beetle?! Where? All I see is me nd’ you!” did they have to look at things from a famous perspective? George never did much find himself enjoying the company of people when all they could offer was the attention a Beatle would get. He longed so much just to be able to talk to people has George Harrison, Not Beatle George. But that was much too far from his new reality… he found himself facing it time and time again. This was his life, like it or not.
Emmy gave him a small look of amusement (or what he could collect as amusement) and tried out her own faces. He tried his best to stifle the laughter that threatened to pour out into the open Studio. But suddenly, George couldn’t hold it in any longer and broke into a hysterical laugh, falling over and clenching his stomach. ”Yer good at tha’. Not bad at all!” he slowly pushed himself back to a sitting position, wiping a tear from one eye before making another face at her and smiling. Her words filled his ears once more, and his thick brows shot up in surprise. No mother? Did she have a father even? ”Oh? N’d who’re you in the business with, ‘en? Or is ‘et jus’ yerself?” he tilted his head and grabbed the end of his shoes, rocking lightly. ”The telli? Nawr, nothin’ spectacular. Get all dolled up, nd’ they make game of pointin’ out yer flaws anyways. Sure, actin’ can be a lota’ fun, but how offen’ does that opportunity come ‘round?” he let his eyes wander off out from under the Piano, careful not to meet her blue eyed gaze.
George found himself smirking again when she announced her favorite of the four Mop top Beatles. Ringo indeed! ”Oh yeah! We’re bes’ friends, me nd’ him. Say, how long er’ ye gona be hangin’ ‘round Londy? I could pull a few strings nd’ maybe get you ‘nd Rings together fer a chat. How’s tha’ sound?” Come one! This was a little eight (seven or eight) year old girl with the talent of someone who had been playing for fifty. She had no mother, and a brilliant fucking mind. Who was George to deny her a meeting with her favorite member of her favorite band? It was the least he could do. (Plus, he was sure this would make for great laughing material over Rings one day) She demonstrated Ringo’s drumming ability and George laughed, happily copying her and doing his best Ringo imitation. (yeah, they did that a lot when they were together, so George had it down to a T’) ”’Ere, ye’ gotta bob yer ‘ead like him, too…” George swayed from side to side as he air-drummed. Bobbing his head playfully every so often. His hair bounced in quite the same way, causing him to giggle. ”Ye’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, kiddo! Yer fab! Gear! Marvelous! Y’know? Nd’ all that other rubbish!” he casted her a long, lopsided grin of encouragement. ”If ‘nyone ever tells ye’ otherwise, tell em they ‘ave George Harrison to answer to.” he jabbed a thumb into his chest and made himself look tall in his seat.
He watched her get up from under the Piano, and situated herself on the pearly black seat. Then those small, crystal blue eyes craned under back at him. He smiled daftly and hummed his approval. ”Well… when I geta’ see her, ‘et is… Buh ‘ere in London, ‘ets been awhile. Me nd’ the lads ‘er booked for America soon, so I’ma’fraid I won’t be seein’ her fer awhile. I write, though…”
A puppy dog, eh? He chuckled breathily and began to growl playfully, showing his teeth before he crawled out from under the Piano and stood. The song began up and he let out a howling bark, suddenly dancing around as though he were Elvis performing on stage; Air-guitar in hand, strumming vigorously.
”Ye’ ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog
Cryin’ all the time!”
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center] [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:41:38 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
Her fingers ran down the keys with a force that was quite different from mere minutes earlier when she had been playing classical music. There was more passion to it now, more oomph, more of a spark and it was quite evident that she far preferred playing tunes like the one she was currently pounding out as opposed to ones from the 1600s and earlier. Perhaps at one time it had been different but in light of the life she was living that was no longer the case.
"Not in business for myself no." She responded simply with a single shake of her head as she continued to play, talking over the music (or the noise as others might refer to it) that she was making. "I'm in business for my father and I. And Mister Johanson. He's my manager." Stretching toward the right side for a note that was hard to reach she continued one explaining. "If I don't play we don't have any money flowing in and my father gets upset." She gave a little smile as she nailed another few notes oddly quite smug with how she was playing. "And I don't like when he's upset with me." That was sugar coating beyond belief.
As the mention of meeting Ringo sunk in her eyes widened and she perked up, all the while still playing the grand instrument. "Me? Meet Ringo? ME? You can do that?" Who was she kidding? The man making the promise was a Beatle and apparently one of her favorite musician's best friends of course he could! Still the surprise rang true. "He would want to meet me?" The very thought baffled her even though she was very talented for her age and most found her somewhat intriguing. "No. He wouldn't want that. He'd hate me." She immediately put herself down in a manner that rivaled her father as she approached the chorus of the song once again.
As George sang Emmy actually smiled quite grandly and in her own attempt at play, as flawed as it was from lack of practice, she bobbed her head just like Ringo Starr might as she played the piano. It was quite a humorous sight given how small she was and in the company that she was keeping but it did the job never the less. She didn't sing however a subconcious result of all of the abuse that she had taken. She wasn't a splendid singer, in fact her father called her rubbish and demanded she stick to the piano which she was an ace at. She used to sing on her own but then through months of being beaten for even speaking up that had been knocked right out of her. So she would leave the singing to the Beatle near her.
Finishing up her playing she looked to George with a brow raised in amusement. Rising up to a kneeling position on the black piano bench she reached out her hands like little claws and gave him a little growl mixed with a smile. "Gr!" Emmy had always wanted a dog but her father would never allow it, she couldn't even have a teddy bear out in the open, so George Harrison would be the next best thing. However upon realizing that she looked quite silly and stupid she stopped herself and sat back down on the piano bench like the little lady she had been trained to be.
"I'm sorry that you don't get to see your mom a lot." Resting her hands in her lap she looked to George earnestly. "And that you don't like being on the television." Yes, two very different sentiments indeed. "Mister Johanson and my dad want me to make it on the television by next year... Before I get too old..."
. Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// GEORGIE TOTALLY STEALS THIS SCENE. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:42:28 GMT -5
617e66
For as long as he could remember, George had played the music he loved. But of course, coming from a strict religious family, Rock and Roll was slightly more frowned upon than most music. Not that he ever understood exactly why… From the moment he had heard Elvis’s voice echoing like ribbons of bliss through the streets, he couldn’t have thought of music as anything other than fantastic. Soon after, he had purchased his first round hole acoustic. And damn, had he loved and abused the hell out of it. Not trashed it, no, but it was definitely used well and long. Even still today, he loved everything he played. Even on days where him and the boys were forces to play over and over and over again to the same three songs till they got it right, he never grew tired of it for very long.
Her reply was simple. Laced with little to no emotion, and stated very matter-of-factly. Which didn’t bother Harrison as much as it did intrigue him. She was much more an adult than himself, that was for sure! But, of course, that hardly mattered to him. He was more than happy just being himself. At a young twenty one, he felt no younger or older than the eight year old herself. Although, she still did feel awful young to be in this business… not that he had much room to speak… ”Well then, Li’le miss. You’ve got quite a thing going ‘ere, eh? Young, talented, pretty, good sense of humor. Yer quite a marvelous thing to ‘ave ‘round!” the way she stated her father’s handlings made George a bit uneasy. As though her words felt much more loaded than she let on. But being left short of information, and pressing his manners, he kept quiet and examined her fingers as they passed over the keys elegantly. Like a tiny dancer she rode on the feeling in her gut rather than what her head told her. Just like when George played. It all came from the heart and soul… every chord… every note… every lyric…
”Hate? You? What a laugh! If there’s un’ person on this earth who loves kids more than himself, it would be dear Ringo,” he shook his head at her and grinned a toothy smile, ”He’d simply adore ye’!” that was a fact. George knew Ringo better than anyone. They were quite good friends (ironically, George being the youngest Beatle, and Ringo the oldest…) but George had always been good befriending the oddest of people. He never seemed to notice the oddity of the relationship…
He couldn’t help the inner laugh of sheer happiness when she returned his playful gestures by growling at him as though a feisty orange kitten. He giggled and bore his teeth, revealing two bright fangs and emitting a low puppy growl, and barking at her. His hands came up to his head and flopped forward like two comical, floppy dog ears. ”A doggy woggy nd’ a kitty bitty, eh? Quite’a pair!” he didn’t quite mind the notion, and smiled gladly back at her. He too, had never really had many pets in his life, but if he had to choose, he’d have gotten a cat. Sure, he loved dogs, but cats were quiet and kept you company at night when no one else would… perhaps he felt he could relate to their somber demeanors better than he could the hype of a canine companion.
”Nawr lass, ‘es fine…” sure he missed his mum, but he still had contact. Of course… unlike Emmy… he could call his mum at any time. Or write her every night. But Emmy? She did not even have that. And as it sounded, her father wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of sorts, either. ”Personally, I think ye’d be a hit on telli! Me ‘nd the boys’ll be on that Ed Sullivan show in America this month. It’s a great place for some’un like yerself to get recognized. If yer up for that kind of an eventuality, that ‘es.” he growled again and made a silly face at her ”What would the name of this young, aspiring prodigy be, by the way? Ye’ already know who I am.”
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center] [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:42:56 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
"I'm not pretty." She spoke up rather straight forwardly (as though she could speak any other way). Her blue eyes sought out George's just for the sole reason of making sure he heard and understood that much. This was a comment said that she couldn't let go ignored. "I'm none of those things except maybe good at the piano and that's just because I'm so little that people make a big deal about it once I hit ten they won't care." Words straight from her father flew out of her mouth: She had heard them enough times. "So I have to keep working or else I'll be old news soon and nobody will want me around." Previously she had been horrified at that thought, she had even sobbed over it, but after you hear something a thousand times it kind of wears you down.
Luckily George's words about Ringo distracted her. "You really think that he won't mind? You really think he'll like me?" The very thought of anyone liking her astounded the little girl and the thought of one of the people she looked up to even spending a second with her was all the more powerful. "You're absolutely sure he won't get mad?" Yes, Emmy seemed to have quite a fear, of men in particular, getting mad.
Standing on the bench now she leaned forward over the piano peering at George hopefully. "Do you think he'll let me hit his drum?" She whispered as though she had concocted some grand scheme that had to remain a secret. Barely unable to contain her excitement, deep down she was still a little girl after all, she just about scampered off of the bench and raced boldly up to George without thinking. "Maybe he can teach me to play like he does!" And with that she took to bouncing about all the while lolling her head from side to side with Ringo's signature goofy grin all the while pretending to drum on air... While she was brilliant at piano, even in silence one could tell the drums weren't her forte.
Ceasing after a fairly long minute she was a tad breathless but never the less still excited about everything that was going on. Looking right up at George, though her face had taken on a serious look, her eyes were still bright and captured by him. "Sullivan? I know who he is!" Loose strands of blonde hair covered her face but for once she didn't seem to mind. "I'm American!" She declared aloud, stating the obvious without even seeming to notice it. Of course poor George could tell, though quiet she did have the accent.
"My name is Emma. I'm going to be eight soon." She announced going up on her tip toes to present George with her little hand for a handshake. "And you're George Harrison and you're way older than eight but that's alright." Yeah, like he needed the reassurance from the likes of her. Even so she gave it anyhow.
. Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// VERY CUTE.. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 17:43:45 GMT -5
617e66 Her admittion shocked George a bit. No little girl was ever born into this world with that thought planted into their head. He knew from experience of his sister, Louise. All of the girls he had ever been around in primary school always seemed to have strong social skills and opinions of themselves. NONE of which consisted of the words “Not Pretty”. He couldn’t help his mind from wandering so far. ”Nd’ who’s told ye’ that rubbish? Only a blind man could make such a mistake!” he became slightly angered by this. If there was one thing George hated the most, besides the press and being on TV, it was mistreatment or ill thought towards children. He loathed it. ”C’mon! I know ye’ believe in yerself more ‘en that.” he crossed his arms and gave her a long, solid stare, even beginning to whimper a bit, ”Hey now! You’ll be just as famous, if not more, by the time yer old enough to get out there on yer own! All ye’ve got to do is keep practicing those faces! Got it? Don’t ye’ dare listen to any’un who tells ye’ different!” how on earth could something so sweet feel so isolated from the world? She deserved a life a child should have… not the nitty gritty stress and fuss of work life. ‘Save that for the adults, little miss…’
Well wasn’t she just the most darling thing he’d ever seen? It was a natural born fact that George simply adored kids, but this one? She was so new to the small things in life, her head seemed constantly wrapped around the bug picture. Only looking upon to the picture that had already been painted of her life. Didn’t she have any personal dreams? Meeting Ringo… that was a start in the right direction. ”I’m positive, luv,” he watched her with bright, brown eyes as she sat on her knees, staring back at him happily. Actually happy. ”Y’know… I think he’d even give ye’ a lesson ‘er two. How’s that sound?” George winked at her and clicked his tongue. It was the least the lads could do for her. And he was sure Ringo wouldn’t mind. He was GREAT with kids!
Her bouncing and dancing about made him laugh hysterically, then joining her by tossing his own head around and marching. Beating an invisible drum kit all the while keeping up to pace with her. When she stopped, he had to skid to a halt to keep from running into the back of her. His eyes brows shot up and he chuckled at her, watching those wide blue eyes of excitement glance up at him, simply fixated on him. ”Do ya now? You most certainly are American! See, wha’ do us Brits know?” he snickered and crossed his arms defiantly, but could not resist his amused laughter.
He took her hand gratefully and gave her a strong shake, nodding his head curtly and revealing those brilliant white fangs. ”’es nice to meet yer acquaintance miss Emma. George I am! Twenty… buh that hardly matters. I feel more like five most days. ‘Least that’s what every’un treats me like…” he shrugged those thin, boney shoulders and hung out sharply in the dark contrast of his Beatle suit. The gaunt look of his figure quite clear in the apparel he was in. Not like John, and most certainly not like Paul… he was wholly his own.
Suddenly, a thought came to mind. She was such a young thing… he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had never been to a fun event in her life. Never lived a normal child’s life… not like he had. Jumping on a whim, he brought a radiant grin to his face and bent down to her level to speak quietly, ”Eh! Ever been to somethin’ called a ‘fair’? With all them rides ‘nd food?”
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center] [/blockquote] [/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 17, 2011 17:45:25 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
Emma found that she rather enjoyed this George fellow's company. It was actually a nice change of pace from her manager, or worse yet her father. This man made her smile and he spoke to her, not just at her all of the time (at least in the short time since she had met him). She rather liked him in fact much like Bob Dylan whom she had met earlier in the month. She really was an incredibly lucky girl in some ways, in others, not so much...
As George bent down facing her out of instinct she took a small step back. This was something subconscious that she hadn't done on purpose or to offend. It was just something she always did as a result of her upbringing. Usually when her father got this close to her a fist or open hand wasn't far behind and though George was a completely different person, leagues really, you couldn't completely erase a habit or a feeling in a mere five seconds time.
Looking back at him with big, yet horribly serious eyes she gave an out of character shy shuffle of her feet. "I know what a fair is." She pouted for a moment though she knew that George wasn't trying to insult her intelligence. Sucking in her bottom lip she instantly regretted being so melancholy with the man, even though she felt like rubbish with the next bit of information that she was about to tell him. "I've read about them. Seen them on the television and stuff..." Was it silly for her to feel envious that this famous Beatle had probably been to thousands of fairs and she not one? And of course there was more to be said on this topic.
"My father won't let me go to something like that." Daring to reach out she hesitantly fixed George's collar for him which had been messed up in his bout of marching (plus he was close enough for her to actually reach out and do so given how small she was). "They're too big. There's too many people. I could get lost." Retracting her hand quickly she clutched her hands into loose little fists holding them just above her belly. "And I don't have time for them. I have to practice when I don't have a show."
Once again she looked down at her feet and murmured quietly: "I bet Ringo goes to a ton of fairs..." Life just wasn't fair. Something Emma knew all too well already.
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// GEORGE! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// SORRY IT'S LAME.. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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Post by joj on Jul 17, 2011 21:19:36 GMT -5
617e66 
Harry simply tilted his head slightly and watched curiously as she took a timid, inevitable step back. He hummed allowed and pulled his brows together. Though his lips remained on topic… he wasn’t particularly the nosey type of folk. Even if it did trouble him a hair… he pushed himself to keep o n topic and looked into those bright blue eyes from some sign of happiness having heard word of a fair. “ah, course you do… yer li’le… slips me mind sometimes…” but her next words make him frown even deeper. “’et all? Not once? Yer joking, right?” he suddenly shook his head and clicked his tongue sadly at her. Sympathy washed over his dark brown eyes, threatening to release a weary sigh. Who were they to keep such a young girl from something so canon in a child’s life? Sure, his own mum had never had the money to take him every time it came around, but he and his mates were always quick to slip in when the adults were looking off into the crowds.
“Wont he? He doesn’t sound like much fun, if you ask me. Eppy lets us go places when we’re good… which isn’t really often now that I think of it… Not unless we’re booked fer a gig there.”He felt terrible for her… Her own father wouldn’t let her go to things like that? Why not? It was healthy, if anything, for a child of her age to be out doing things like that. He sighed inwardly, venting his frustration towards this father of hers. He let a filling smile ghost his lips as she fixed his collar. Allowing her to do so while his brown eyes rested on the floor space between them. He watched her carefully. Noticing her hesitance and slight sense of shame at this information. At least she felt something towards it… maybe even frustration of her own. She wanted to go… “I always find me way back out… Follow those coloured flags overhead. They’re rather useful. ” he beamed at this bit of information. As though some grand self discovery. “Time? You’re six, darl. Time doesn’t mean a thing at your age. Yer entitled to breaks, y’know. What about vacations?” though George rather liked his job, therefore, as vacation of his own had never really been something he had ever looked into. Why did he need to? This music business was hardly work as it was. Well… hard work, but work that he enjoyed thoroughly.
Harry laughed at her statement about Ringo. But the look she turned away from him was heart breaking. Did this father of hers know what he was doing to his child? She was so alone… it killed Geo to see her like this. “Us Beats would Love to have you over some time! Y’know we could always use the company… Plus, some’uns gotta cheer up that Lennon character. He’s been sulking lately… ” he nudged her arm lightly with one boney elbow and offered a shy smile. He’d make it up to her somehow, some day. The youngest Beatle’s head darted towards a hanging hand clock. His eyes shot open at the time. Swiftly, his hands removed a piece of paper from his shirt pocket, handing it to Emmy quickly. “’ere. Call us some time. Epstein might answer first… Just tell ‘im you’re lookin fer George. Got it? Don’t hesitate t’call. I ‘ave t’get back to Eppy. He ought to be cross by now.” Brian had given him the paper with their number on it some time back when they had arrived. Just in case. But he could always say he lost it… Harry smiled before rising to his feet and dipping his head in a short goodbye. “I’ll be seeing you later, little missy. ”
NOTES: lawl <3 TAGS: Tagged Emmy~schan! WORDS: 714
TEMPLATE BY: HAY SHAY ! AT CAUTION [/font][/center] [/blockquote] [/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 18, 2011 15:30:04 GMT -5
b l a c k b i r d singing in the dead of n i g h t
Take these BROKEN wings && learn to fly
[/center] [/size] [/size][/color] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE[/size] blackbird f l y [/font][/center]
In this moment, though still a tad wary of the man, Emmy found herself coming to the all too obvious conclusion. George Harrison was nothing how she had imagined when she had once snuck a peak at the record cover of his latest LP. He was the one who hung toward the back. The 'quiet one' was how he was pitched. Yet, here in the recording studio with her he was anything but. And she found, oddly enough, that she rather liked this man a great deal. He was funny! Now there was a word she never once entertained that she would think let alone believe. Someone made her giggle! If it wasn't for the slight case of aspergers she might have showed her happiness with the promise of the situation better.
"I'm not little I'm just small." She was quick to counter with the slightest of frowns. Somehow small came across better than the phrase little. Little made her feel like a helpless tiny thing, small was something that could be remedied. Once again that was the backwards logic of Emma Silvias. When he asked if she was joking about the fair she gave a solemn shake of her head. "No sir." Hopefully he'd believe her because honestly Emmy wasn't quite sure how she could prove it.
When George sighed Emmy frowned yet again. His action paired with the all too present frown on his face led her to believe that she had let down her new friend in some way. Emmy absolutely hated letting people down because she had done, or was unable to do something, she seemed to do that with her father daily and the punishment always came soon after. She certainly didn't want to let this nice man down. She liked him!
"I'd go if I could Mister Harrison! But my father won't let me. I'll try my best to go. I will!" She protested weakly yet her voice was loud as if trying to convince the guitarist. She didn't want him to hate her already and she definitely didn't want George to feel sad. Her hand reached out as though to touch him but at the last moment she caught herself and instead it hung in the air for a few moments before she found herself clutching her fists at her sides. She was mad at herself for this. She was quite sure it was somehow all her fault. And now she had some explaining to do it seemed...
"He means well." And perhaps the young girl had tricked herself into truly believing such a thing. "He just wants me to be good. I'm not too good at being good." Her blue eyes found their way down to her feet as if there was suddenly something of interest there. There wasn't. Though a phrase caused her to look up at him again with a curious expression. "What's an Eppy?" It sounded like a terrible thing! Maybe George had a similar situation to her own! She felt her chest lighten a bit with hope.
Soon Emmy found herself being invited to the Beatles flat. If only she knew how lucky she truly was. Perhaps she was too stunned because all she could do was look down with a strange sort of expression at the piece of paper that had been placed in her little hands. "I can call you?" Emmy had never called, or had been allowed to, with anyone so it was hard to disguise the awe in her voice. "Me? Any time I want?" She very nearly squeaked before George's face bowed down mere inches from hers. "And you won't be mad?" The hope was hard to miss.
"I'll get to meet Ringo?" Oh, things just got better and better! But... As an after thought she tilted her head at the youngest Beatle. "You'll be there right? With me?"
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i][/color] Tag// Georgie! Words// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// Glad that these two are back. Credit// Lucie [/color][/center] |
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