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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jun 29, 2011 15:47:48 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] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE
blackbird f l y [/center]
Emmy pulled at the sleeves of the sweater that was far too large for her as she sat on the outside steps ofthe theatre. The dim glimmer of the exit sign provided the only bit of light other than the street lamps a few feet ahead. The murmur of conversation could be heard around the corner but Emmy somehow managed to avoid it all merely by location: The backstage entrance. Alleys were more inviting than most people treated them. They were certainly more inviting than home with her father... Wherever that was. Wherever he was... Probably at the venues bar pounding back a few drinks if he hadn't left with a companion already.
Shifting a bit from where she sat she tugged at the sleeves that clearly didn't fit her. Be that as it may it was certainly better than the pink dress she was sporting. She hated pink. Absolutely loathed it. It was definitely her least favorite color in the entire spectrum but as the agent had informed her father pink made her look even younger, though how did you make eight look younger?, and therefore made her appear even more of a prodigy. Of course Emmy knew this logic was stupid, but that was adults for you.
She had gone through her usual routine. She played the classics as instructed. She had always been good at them. Plus it was impressive for a 'little one' to know them. However they weren't exactly where her heart laid and that was apparent by the almost dead and complacent look that had over taken her face when she had performed them. Of course this was lost by most of the concert goers: Socialites and society's best. Rumor was a few famous brits were even in attendance though Emmy hadn't heard any names: No one ever told her anything.
Once it was all over she did her usual thing. She stood up. Curtsied. Sometimes a number of times depending on how pleased the crowd was and the venue. She wouldn't say a word and would then exit: Usually stage left. Then pending on who was in attendance she was either paraded about like a show dog or she was left to fend for herself while her father wreaked the benefits of her talent. Tonight was a case of the latter.
Pulling at her large sleeves again she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted from where she sat. How on earth would she be able to stand another two hours of this? Sucking in her cheeks she glanced down at her lap where an open, worn song book sat. Her pale fingertips grazed over the pages holding it open as a chilly breeze blew past. She had probably memorized the contents by this point but that certainly didn't take away her sentimental attachment to it.
That's when she heard the sound of the door opening behind her. Gasping with surprise she hopped to her feet turning on the step to face whoever had decided to poke their head out. Hopefully she wasn't in trouble. "I'm sorry! " The last thing she needed was the word that she had somehow been misbehaving, no matter how misconstruded, getting back to her father who would surely punish her later.
Without another word, filled with worry, she forced herself to brush right past the person. In fact she didn't even see who it was! If she had... Who knows? She very nearly have exploded! Hurrying through the back hall of the performance venue she made her way toward her dressing room.. Well it had been hers for the night.. Mainly her fathers. She gave it a tug with one hand. Didn't open. Two hands. Didn't open. Using her full body weight, which wasn't much, she tried to yank it open... Nothing. Apparently her dear father had forgotten he wasn't the only one who'd be using that room tonight.. Or perhaps he had visitors.
Left without much of an option she found herself hightailing it right onto the empty stage. No audience (the doors had been closed to audience members who were currently celebrating and partying in the lobby or the bar across the street). The room completely quiet at first she hesitantly made her way toward the grand piano that still stood far upstage (it had been moved for the line of next performers which included several bands). Making her way toward it she managed to slip in between the bench and the piano, sitting her little body down. It seemed they ahd removed her custom made bench in exchange for a regular one as her feet hung in the air nowhere near the peddles.
Once she was comfortable, if there ever really was such a thing, she began to play. A familiar tune, to her, though it shouldn't have been. Her father and others would have forbidden it. 'Like Dreamers Do'. A Beatles song.. And definitely not classical. Though here she was playing it on the grand piano.
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i] Tag// PAUL/OPEN Words// ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// This was a post for a thread I had on the original group where I made Emmy but it never really got fully out of the ground. So I edited it and posted it here. Hope that's ok! FIRST IN CHARACTER POST. BE KIND. Credit// Lucie
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Post by skylark on Jul 5, 2011 19:47:34 GMT -5
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Rehearsal today had been quick, and Jane wasn’t coming over until five or so. Still full of energy that was usually burnt off by the end of a typical rehearsal Paul decided to explore London. He hadn’t had much of a chance with The Beatles busy schedules.
Earlier he had spotted a street all lit up and looked busy, it looked appealing and a good place to blend in with the crowds. Crossing the street with a group of well dressed people wasn’t exactly part of his plan to stay anonymous. He wasn’t dressed up at all, judging by the people Paul must have picked the well to do end of town. Looking up Paul saw a familiar sign on a building in front of him, verifying that this was the fancier part of the city. It was a theatre. He couldn’t remember why it was familiar. Maybe he’d been before with his parents, that was unlikely they had rarely visited London with Paul and Michael. As he walked closer Paul had the urge to go in. It looked like it was still open because a few people were still coming out from a performance. He looked at the posters on the brick wall EMMY SILVIAS CHILD PIANO PRODIGY! Below the words was a picture of a young blond girl who was smiling. Paul smiled at the posters remembering when his father used to make him practice piano and take those horrid lessons. Paul had been sure he could teach himself more than the teacher was capable of, and look where he was now.
As the last group of people exited the theatre Paul entered keeping his head down so he wasn’t recognized. The glass door slammed shut behind him, followed by a click telling him the door had locked. The light in the reception area was dim but Paul could see that there were some stage lights still on because there was a sliver of light coming from the entrance to the auditorium. Following the light into the auditorium he stopped there was music coming from the stage. Unlike the theatre the song was all too familiar, “Like Dreamers Do”. So he wasn’t alone. He squinted and continued forward until his eyes adjusted to the change of light and a grand piano was visible. Behind the piano sat the little girl from the posters outside the building, she looked even younger than in the posters. Paul really wanted to know how old she was, she seemed so young especially in that sweater she was wearing she looked like she was drowning. Despite her youthful appearance there was something about her that told Paul she’s been through a lot and she was more mature than she looked.
Paul hummed along with her playing until she reached the chorus of the song and he began to sing softly. Emmy still hadn’t seemed to notice anyone was watching her, so he slipped into a seat at the end of the fourth row from the stage. “And I, I, I, I, Waited for your kiss, Waited for the bliss, Like dreamers do. Oh, like dreamers do, Like dreamers do.” Paul didn’t realize it but he had started to sing louder. The cover of the old Beatles song the young pianist was playing seemed to entrance him. And then it ended, Paul found himself standing up and clapping loudly for her. “Now tha’ was really good,” he praised her, “who taught you to play, love?” Paul hoped he hadn’t scared her, she seem like she was really into her playing. Deciding not to move any closer so he wouldn’t scare her more, he sunk back down into the seat trying to look as friendly as possible.
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LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; Emmy
lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles
listening to; Dancing In The Dark
by Dev
word count;622
outfit;
credit; to brooke from caution |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 11, 2011 10:56:36 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] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE
blackbird f l y [/center] Some would have found it to be an absolute miracle that Emma could play, and so flawlessly, in wearing the clothing she was when also factoring in her small size. Her sleeves threatened to enswarm her and it was yet another factor to battle aside from her tiny height. Yet manage she did and rather well. In fact it was one of the very few things in her life that she could keep some sort of control over. Usually. It seemed that now was not one of those times especially when the sound of clapping broke her from her playing.
So she hadn't just been hearing the singing of the lyrics in her head. With startled, wide, doe's eyes her head quickly snapped around to look toward the audience which she had previously thought was empty only to find that the actuality of the situation was quite the contrary... To the millionth degree.
If they could have her eyes would have leapt right out of her skull. Paul McCartney. THE Paul McCartney. Scrambling to her feet she very nearly fell onto all fours but somehow managed to keep her balance. It was like seeing a ghost and definitely an unexpected one.
"You... You're.... You're..." Though a shy girl the words somehow managed to find their way out of her, brought on by the sheer idolization she had for the man. And perhaps she was far too stunned to realize that she was a quiet girl for the moment being. "You're Paul McCartney." She found herself forcing the words out. She didn't have time to feel foolish that she was informing him of something that he was undoubtedly a hundred percent aware of. He probably got responses like this one a thousand times but did he get them from such a little girl? Hero worship to be sure. Nothing lustful about it. Completely innocent.
She could feel her legs shake and they threatened to give out though somehow she managed to remain standing. Meanwhile her brain was reeling trying to catch up to the words that the man spoke. He had asked her something hadn't he? For a split moment she then realized that she should have moved closer but her feet seemed glued to the spot. Oh well. Oh yes! The question.
"I... I..." Oh out with it already. It was quite difficult to be eloquent without a manager at your side. Especially one as 'charming' as Mister Johanson. It was also quite another thing to be without your stern father who would keep you quiet and do all the talking for you. "I don't know sir." She admitted quietly, secretly hating herself for being so simple and dolt. "I... I suppose I taught myself Mister McCartney." Unbelievable but very true. Emmy didn't have much in the world but she had that.
Studying him from where he sat seemingly comfortable in his seat she shyly lowered her head though was unable to pull her blue eyes from off of the man. "I'm not supposed to play that kind of music though..." Her voice trailed off. This man was brilliant, at least in her mind, and hopefully he'd get the hint that she wanted this to be their secret. The last thing she needed was her father hearing she was playing the 'devil's music' let alone speaking to one of the 'devil's' main accessories.
"Please don't tell..." Devil or not, innocent Emmy, like any other child (or human being for that matter), was intrigued and though timid it couldn't keep her from socializing... Or at least attempting to. Especially with someone she looked up to (though her favorite Beatle was oddly enough Ringo).
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i] Tag// PAUL/OPEN Words// ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// PARDON THE VERY RARE STARSTRUCK EMMY. Credit// Lucie
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Post by skylark on Jul 17, 2011 23:21:01 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The little girl was clearly startled; as soon as she heard Paul talk she had been off the piano bench in a split second. It wasn’t that gracefully because she had almost fallen and Paul had stood back up protectively as if he could run up on the stage to catch her in a split second. Emmy was clearly star struck but not star struck the way Paul was used to seeing it. Normally when someone was star struck about the Beatles it was infatuation or some kind of unreasonable crush, but this little girl seemed to be star struck for an entirely different reason. Her love and understanding of music must have made her excited to see the Beatle because of the music. It was just hero worship, simple as that, the way Paul thought it should be.
"You... You're.... You're You're Paul McCartney." She stuttered looking at him like she had just seen a ghost. Paul nodded ]“Nah, thought I was John Lennon I did, not McCar’hney, not me.” He teased grinning at her. He hoped his little joke would lighten the conversation up and make Emmy see he wasn’t trying to be scary. Once again the she stuttered in reply to his question about who taught her to play. It seemed like she was the kind of girl who didn’t talk much. If she had the guts to play piano on stage at her age she couldn’t be that shy could she? Though she didn’t have much to be nervous about, she was so incredibly talented. And if she had really taught herself it was undeniable that she was a child prodigy, just like the posters outside said. “Never really like piano lessons meself, I learned a lot on me own too, but I was neve’ as you are.” He admitted, it was true piano had been his least favorite instrument to learn. Mainly it was the lessons his parents made him take after they discovered his interest in music, and he hated reading sheet music. Paul preferred playing by ear; he could barely even read notes or sheet music.
Paul noticed her small head lower slightly as if she was ashamed I'm not supposed to play that kind of music though..." she said quietly. Paul’s eyes widened, he couldn’t believe it. Who wouldn’t let a little girl play his band’s music, let alone that song? There was nothing wrong with it, nothing inappropriate at all. Some parents were stricter than others and many older adults didn’t like the new rock and roll type music.] “Tha’s crazy, who say’s tha’?” Paul blurted out clearly offended by whoever it was that didn’t allow the wonderful young musician to play “his stuff”. “Don’t you worry love I won’t tell,” He said winking at her to hide his anger, inside he was still fuming, “ya should be able ta play whatever ya want!”
He walked up to the stage and looked up at the girl standing on it. With help from the stage Paul and Emmy were nearly the same height but the stage gave her a few inches on Paul. “Look don’t listen to them, play wha’ ya want, just don’t get in trouble because of my music, m’kay?” he said quietly smiling at Emmy.
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LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; Emmy
lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles
listening to;
by
word count;546
outfit;
credit; to brooke from caution |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 18, 2011 15:50:14 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] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE
blackbird f l y [/center] "No! You're Paul McCartney! I know. I've seen you on the record cover. I swear!" The little blonde girl exclaimed, her eyes wide yet insistent in hopes that he'd believe her claims. Paul's sense of humor and little joke about thinking he was Lennon was completely lost on Emmy. Not because she was too young, or too startled by his presence, but because she just didn't understand that sort of thing. She had been far too sheltered, ironically given her touring/performing situation, all of her life. She didn't get it. She didn't know how to get it.
"The bass! You play the bass and sing. You remember don't you?" Emmy questioned, still on a roll with explaining as though she were a detective who had just solved a great mystery that had been plaguing Paul for ages. "...On the radio!" Her little hand moved to point at a radio only to discover that there wasn't one in the immediate area. Now looking back at the famous man she just couldn't tear her eyes off of him.
"You did? Truly?" Yes, she was scared. Yes she was shy. But in hearing this talented musician who played/wrote music that she adored had learned much the way that she had she was his: Hook, line, and sinker. And in that she found herself admitting something to him. "But you write your own stuff. I could never do that. I just play stuff that somebody else already wrote. There's nothing special about that. It's easy." Yep, something her father told her nightly during her practice sessions, when he was around, to drive her to practice even harder.
"My father." She admitted quietly, only after looking each way as though the unseen force was lurking. "He says it's the devil's music and I'm not supposed to like it. If he hears me play it I get in even more trouble." Her knees and arms ached just thinking about it. "I tried my best to not like it but I do. I like playing it. I don't like playing this classical stuff..." Emmy suddenly felt very sad mainly because she couldn't be the little girl that her father wanted her to be. Was she stuck in this state of constantly letting people down? Would she never be good enough? But Paul's words, and signature wink, brought some hope right back.
"You won't?" A hint of a smile. "I can?!" Disbelief and excitement clouded her voice and she bit her bottom lip eagerly. In fact she was so gosh darned excited that she didn't initially back up or run away when Paul approached the stage. It wasn't until Paul was right in front of her and she was looking down at him that his closeness fully registered.
"Alright!" She all too eagerly agreed. But surely Paul needed to be reassured as well! "And you don't take piano lessons unless you want to. Alright?" Yeah, like one of the greatest musicians in the world needed this pep talk. Emmy seemed to think so. "You don't even have to play it if you don't want to!" This was an idea foreign to Emmy as her father always made her play regardless of how she felt. He just didn't care.
Glancing over her shoulder she caught a look of the grand piano she had been playing. Turning her attention back to McCartney she tilted her head at him shyly actually surprised by her boldness to ask the question she was about to.
"Do you want to?..." Ah yes, great timing there Emmy.
Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i] Tag// MACCA ATTACKA. WORDS// [/color] ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// PAUL IS BEING SO UNDERSTANDING AND NICE. HE'S A JOY TO READ! Credit// Lucie [/center] |
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Post by skylark on Jul 26, 2011 10:17:42 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Emmy clearly didn’t get Paul’s little joke, she looked so confused. In fact it seemed to be so lost on her that she began to protest. "No! You're Paul McCartney! I know. I've seen you on the record cover. I swear! The bass! You play the bass and sing. You remember don't you?" She was so determined to prove that he was Paul not John. Her eyes were wide and staring at him like she was pleading him to believe her. Paul held up his hands in surrender “Alright ya got me, I was jus kidding, don’t worry!”he said once she had calmed down .
She seemed smart enough to understand the joke; maybe she just wasn’t old enough or just simply didn’t get it. Paul wasn’t very good at understanding kids mostly because he didn’t have any of his own. Sure he had a younger brother but there weren’t really enough years between them for Paul to help his mother with Michael (that was more of a girl’s job anyway). He liked kids and he had the kind, fun, easy going side of his personality that was good for being around them. Really it made it easier for him to socialize with anyone no matter their age.
Paul’s reassurance didn’t seem to work too well, because she still looked worked up. Now he felt guilty for causing her distress, but he didn’t know what to do about it. She seemed to brighten when he admitted to not liking lessons that much. Paul got the sense that she didn’t hate lessons but there was something she didn’t like about them. He could see she loved to play, the way she moved her fingers across the keys with so much care and how she got so into the music it was like she was in her own little world. With time and maturity she would surely be able to convey the emotions of the song to any audience.
It was her father who told her not to play what she wanted? When she answered Pau’s question with her father she looked both way’s checking if he was listening. What kind of father was he, shouldn’t he support his daughter? That’s what parents do right? That was the example Paul had grown up with, both his parents were supportive and caring, but let it known that they were in charge. He and his brother had turned out just fine.
Suddenly the little girl’s mood changed, "You won't? I can?!" there was a smile and excitement in her voice. She was practically starting to bounce up and down, there was so much emotion trapped inside that tiny body. And she didn’t even back away or react when he drew closer to her. The sudden outburst make Paul smile, kids, sad one minute excited the next. "And you don't take piano lessons unless you want to. Alright?" He couldn’t help laughing out loud at her trying to reassure him. He wasn’t laughing because it was stupid, it was just too darn cute and outright hilarious. He stopped when she mentioned not playing at all, “If I didn’t play at all then we wouldn’t hav’ any new songs, I’d better keep playing. Unless ya’ don’t want any more songs…” he fished trying to get a response out of her and take her mind off her father. “To be honest I don’t really like the bass either, kinda forced to play it, ya know. But don’t tell I would get scolded by Brian, my manager.”
When Emmy glanced over her shoulder Paul’s eyes followed to see what she was looking at. "Do you want to?..." she asked lighting up again. Paul’s was surprised by her boldness; she was so shy and polite a minute ago. “Do I wanna play?” he repeated. He liked to play and it was one of his favorite instruments, he just didn’t like lessons or learning it. Plus how could he turn down a chance to play here in this theater, on an expensive grand piano. “Why not?” He didn’t take a second more to think. He hopped up on the stage, not bothering to use the steps a few feet away.
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LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; [/b] Emms lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles listening to;Pumped Up Kicks :D by Foster The People word count;700 outfit; N/A credit; to brooke from caution[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Jul 26, 2011 19:12:40 GMT -5
Emmy nodded quietly when Paul repeated her question back to her. Suddenly very shy again out of fear that he might actually say no to her all too bold request. She hadn't been thinking when she asked it. She had just been so very excited that they were getting along and that the man actually made her feel comfortable and safe. These were two feelings that she rarely felt nowadays, or ever, so when she did it often became too overwhelming for her that she just was overtaken by it all. Luckily Paul didn't seem too upset by it. In fact he gave an answer that she hadn't been expecting. He said yes!
She didn't even have enough time to gather her thoughts together enough to smile. Instead she could only stare with widened blue eyes as Paul scaled the stage with ease in a single bound. He was just like a superhero! And this superhero was going to play the piano with her. Even in her dismal situation to Emma Silvias life could not get any better!
In a sudden display of bashfulness she shyly looked to her feet, making her way toward the grand instrument. Sitting own on the bend she barely took up any room. Sitting pretty still she waited for Paul to join her, watching his every move out of the corner of her eye. Once seated she directed her attention back onto the black and white keys. Taking a slow, shakey inhaling breath she brought her tiny hands up to them and began to play. Something classical to start. Something basic. Chances were if Paul had been subjected to piano lessons it'd be something he could identify. Back when things were more simple and you were told (or forced) to play what you did.
After a few moments of playing Emma found her eyes wandering. She hated playing this classical stuff though it provided a paycheck for her eager father. It just wasn't in her heart to sit there like a souless statue and be robotic. Though slowly but surely that's what she was being manipulated into before the Fab Four had begun to intervene (beginning with George at the studio). Maybe there was still some hope yet for the little piano prodigy if these boys had anything to do with it.
Not wishing to play alone any longer she brought her little hands to Paul's much larger ones. Identifying it as difficult to lift both she settled on lifting each one to the keys individually before she replaced her hands on the proper alignment on her half of the keys. Unsure she cast her gaze shyly toward Paul, as if awaiting his response. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he saw how awful she was at something so simple and stupid that he had written her off completely! Still.. She had to try.
"Play something happy." She whispered, her light brow raising with anticipation. |
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Post by skylark on Aug 4, 2011 14:47:38 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Following Emmy to the piano he sat down next to her, she barely took up any room on the piano bench. Paul suddenly felt like a giant compared to her tiny figure. He was more aware than even of how young she was, but as soon as she started playing again she seemed so much older then she had a minute ago. The tune flowed gracefully from her hands like it was a second nature to her, there was so much potential I her.
She started with something classical it was beautiful and sounded familiar although he couldn’t name it. Paul was enjoying watching her fingers run over the keys with ease, but Emmy herself clearly wasn’t enjoying what she was playing. The way she played was so robotic too and it wasn’t hard to guess that she was forced to play that way just like she was forced to play only classical music.
He was surprised to find two warm little hands tugging at his big ones. Looking down he smiled as she resolved to individually lifting each. Deciding to let her move his hands for him to the keys he adjusted them slightly to a more comfortable position while still keeping them in the in the same place Emmy had placed them. When she peeked shyly at him he looked back at her questioningly, also unsure of what exactly she wanted him to play.
The keys were cool to the touch, perfectly formed and flawless like that were hardly ever played. What could he play for her that was happy? I want to Hold Your Hand, of course! That was happy enough. He looked over at her again but this time it wasn’t a questioning look it was an are you ready look. He adjusted his hands once again to fit the key the song was in. Playing it on the piano was harder that on the bass simply because he wasn’t used to playing that way. Paul wasn’t worried about anything because he had played it on piano before and he knew it by memory. He was determined to impress Emmy with I Want To Hold Your Hand.
“Do you want me ta sing too?” He wasn’t sure if he should or not, it would sound different to her because the only version she’d (probably) ever heard was one with both Paul and John singing. Although she would probably be happy with just about anything judging by the way she was looking at him. He just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be thrown off if it sounded a little different. “It might sound a little different than what you’ve heard on the radio, because it will be only me singing.” He added before she could respond.
He started playing the introduction with the part that George would normally play on guitar, “Ok do you want ta help me out?” he asked as he repeated the introduction one more time, “Do you know the clapping part to this?” Hopefully she did, it would help her get into it instead of simply sitting there watching Paul play. Kids didn’t have very long attention spans and somehow he didn’t doubt that Emmy was any exception.
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LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; [/b] Emms lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles listening to;Something by The Beatles word count;536 outfit; N/A credit; to brooke from caution[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS on Aug 4, 2011 16:21:08 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] All your life...[/font] YOU WERE ONLY WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT TO ARISE
blackbird f l y [/center] Paul McCartney was close. That would have been enough to make many a human being uneasy. He was a musical god. Only a few years into his career and many fans along with critics were already uttering those words. Emma thought of him along the same lines of course but her own nervousness came from another reason entirely. Her father was a 'distant' man to phrase it in the least hostile way as possible. Closeness, let alone physical contact, without a negative undertone (like hitting) was rare if not non existent. To have someone so close to her on the piano bench, accompanied by the fact that he wasn't trying to knock her one, was all new to Emma. Out of habit she actually glanced toward him out of the corner of her eyes numerous times not just out of adoration but out of worry. Some habits were hard to break and that rang true for Emmy's fear that this whole event might be some sort of trap and by the end of it all she'd end up whacked on the floor.
But that hadn't happened yet. Be that as it may she still continued to check every once in a while even though this man had been nothing but kind if not downright reassuring to her: Something the little piano player needed desperately. If Paul felt like a giant Emma certainly furthered the notion by the very way she looked at him. Wide blue eyes filled with nothing but wonder and awe. Not just because of who he was, which practically everyone knew, but for how he was acting with her. The man was patient. He was kind. And he was spending time with her even though he was no doubt very busy being famous and whatnot. This man was a living, breathing saint (not that Emma believed in God, even at her young age). But still, if there were saints Paul surely was one!
"You can do it." Paul's unsure gaze was completely lost on the oblivious, socially awkward little girl. Though it would have been pretty humorous for an outsider to walk in and witiness little Emma with the upper hand in this situation: Even if she didn't realize it yet. "Don't be scared." Her quiet voice did its best to reassure the man who probably didn't need it. She even went so far as to reach out with her own tiny, pale hand and gave his lower arm a very light squeeze, almost unsure if she should be doing it or not.
He was offering to sing? "Yes please!" The eight year old answered without thinking. A dead give away to her own excitement. Usually Emma was a very controlled and disciplined little girl, she HAD to be, but with the promise that filled the air she couldn't help but kick her scrawny legs to keep herself from exploding. Was that really a question?! Even Emmy found the bassist asking it absurd. "Please sing?" She loved his voice! Speaking, singing. It was simple, light, sophisticated and calm. Was he embarassed? How could that be?! "I like your voice. It's nice. It's not harsh or ever angry." Well this reasoning certainly made sense to Emma. If it was lost on Paul too darned bad!
"I can try..." She responded hesitantly. She wished that she could do it. She certainly knew where the claps were supposed to go but Emma has absolutely no rhythm which was quite odd given her natural piano playing ability. However while she could master the flow and tone of notes she just couldn't seem to keep a beat otherwise and outside of that world. God help her in her teenage years when all any of her pals would want to dance. Emma would be undoubtebly lost. For now she was just trying to make Paul happy. She wanted so badly to keep him around given how fond she was of him already.
"I don't have to sing do I? I know the words... But I don't like my voice..." The blonde admitted seriously with a certain amount of detachment. That was the only way to get through the day sometimes! She, along with her life, had conditioned herself to be this way. It would probably haunt her until her dying day. "You sing." Emma gave a curt nod. It was her decision. She certainly didn't want to sully Paul's lovely voice with her own which wasn't even worth mentioning: At least so said her dear father.
Her blue eyes were then subconsciously guided from poor, unsure Paul back to the keys as he began to play. He really could play the piano when he wanted to! And well! Of course Emma recognized the tune: It was one of her favorites! It took all of her might not to bounce excitedly on the piano bench like the little girl that she was.
Instantly her back straightened and her entire demeanor perked. "You can play!" A smile even crossed her lips and remained there for longer than three seconds. Yes, Paul was clearly a saint because that alone was a miracle! Leaning forward she watched his hands move across the keys with immense curiosity and focus. "See?! See?!" She caught herself being too loud and did he best to lower her voice. Pointing at Paul's hands with her little right index finger she then gasped when she heard the part with the clapping approach. She sat upright, preparing herself, and then...
Of course, she messed it up. Her rhythm was off. Heck, the girl could barely even clap correctly. Then again how could anyone expect her to? First off everyone was usually clapping for her and secondly what did she have going on in her life that was worth clapping about? Her face scrunched up with frustration and while other kids her age might have sobbed Emma just looked horribly disappointed, maybe even afraid? She wrinkled her nose Tried again. Failed. Again. Failed. Again. Again. Again! Finally she got so gosh darn irritated and freaked out by it all that she quickly sat on her hands as if it would make the problem go away.
She forced herself to stare straight ahead blankly, yet determinedly. "Stupid girl. Can't do anything right." She cursed herself quietly. Now where had she heard that before?... Into the L I G H T of the dark black N I G H T [/i] Tag// MACCA ATTACKA Words// ENOUGH Ooc Name// CUETHELAUGH Notes// THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR POSTING. I'VE BEEN HAVING A ROUGH TIME LATELY ONLINE WISE SO IT MEANS A LOT THAT YOU'RE RPING WITH ME. Music// I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND - SOME BAND THAT PEOPLE KNOW I GUESSCredit// Lucie
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