[attr="class","minicharh"]

skipping

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

the primarina is.. trilling? she hums so much, and doesn't seem to realize that they aren't here for a singing outing. still, her humming was better than a deafening silence otherwise. though she still taps across her coat, searching for the earbuds that she knows she's forgotten. sadly, it's just a habit she has to make sure she's really forgotten. [break][break]

unfortunate. [break][break]

she has half the mind to say "mezzo, play despacito" and snicker at her slightly confused expression. the poor thing doesn't know the song, or she just doesn't know how to start it. lower songs were never her forte. [break][break]

a corsola ambles on by, which is curious. she thought that they'd already be gone and safe from the winter - maybe she was wrong when she thought that they migrated? [break][break]

either way, it isn't much her problem. she's sure that it'll be able to find a space to hide out. if not, it... might be okay. maybe.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

water/fairy

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

fresh air. [break][break]

she's needed it, and hoenn gives so much of it. since moving, she hasn't had the time to come down by the beach, and maybe the winter hasn't been the best time of the year. thankfully, the winters in hoenn aren't as harsh as the winds in kalos, nor are they as chilly in her times in sinnoh. the tropical weather is nice. [break][break]

nice enough for her to let a primarina out of her pokeball, and the fae songstress lets out a soft hum of happiness. the fish shivers slightly, however. [break][break]

"are you alright?" sylvia asks, only stopping in her concerned tracks when she makes another happy chime. good, good..

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

aw, he doesn't have to be so fancy about it. [break][break]

granted, dramatics weren't new to her. she lived in kalos for the majority of her life, after all; the land the media likes to dramatize into a musical. in that same bout of fanciness, she pinches her skirt to give a brief curtsey when his hat touches his chest. "thank you for the warm welcome~." she responds with a chime. ah, yes, she's reminded again that a smile goes such a long way. [break][break]

names aside, there's a small glimmer in her eyes hearing about his status as a gym leader. someone that important was here, at the bar? she always thought that gym leaders lived in the higher classes up there, what with how important they are. it's funny to see one here, but everyone is the same status when they can pop open a bottle and throw one back. [break][break]

she, unfortunately for better or worse, widens her eyes at the recounting. dragon attacks? a mirage island? black ice? this was all.. certainly news to her, and seraphim makes no attempt to hide her bewilderment. "really?" she asks, followed by a chuckle to lighten the mood again. [break][break]

"ahh.. alola's a bit too hot, and unova's a bit too.." she trails off, humming in thought before waving two fingers in circular motions to her side "loud? a little too bustling." not that it was bad; it just wasn't her cup of tea after enough time in the high luxury. "hoenn has been lovely! quite peaceful," she chuckles; oh the irony of it - "and there will never a dull moment, from the sounds of it~."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Thomas Benoit

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

deep breaths, you've done this before. [break][break]

clearly not enough, if she's still getting nerves. it's not the first time she's gotten on the stage to sing, it won't be the last, but by god it doesn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach. the guitar's in hand when she reaches the stage, resting against her thigh as she leans towards the microphone. after a deep breath, she sings a song for the patrons, regardless if they were listening or not. [break][break]

the song ends - as they all do - and she gives the crowd a smile. a soft bow, and the angelic figure dressed in white lifts herself momentarily from the stool to descend for a cup of water in between performances. the good thing about being a freelance on demand is that they have to accommodate her. how pleasant. [break][break]

though when she arrives to the bar, she can feel a gaze on her figure still. it's not uncommon, but it's typical for her to trace the gaze back to the starer. this time, her eyes meet those of an older man's. [break][break]

so she wears the smile that reaches her eyes, waving her fingers to he who seemed to gaze at her. [break][break]

did he need something?

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Elise Calcifet

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

as far as she was concerned, "royalty" was a thing of the past. still, it doesn't stop her poet's heart from fantasizing regency and the splendor that comes from the diamond spoon. unfortunately, for better or for worse, she can never forget the rags she came from, and the dirt was such a hassle to wash off. sylvia has been living lavish as a peasant masquerading nobility. [break][break]

she hums, elbows casually planted in the countertop whilst resting her cheek against the palm of a hand. "i can only imagine.." her thoughts trail off as the bartender returns with her water, and sylvia promptly nods her head in thanks before gently running her finger across the rim of the glass. [break][break]

the trace is promptly followed up by her fingers lowering to the stand, lifting it up from the bottom to hold up, in a motion to invite a small cheer. "your citizens are really lucky." she grins, and the serene cheeriness sparkles in verdant eyes "they have such a loving, caring, and capable princess to watch over them."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Elise Calcifet

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

stiff words and chilly airs do nothing to deter the young songstress. [break][break]

rather, the spark in her eyes glows all the brighter at the woman's stutter, and the slightest hue of red she can barely catch beneath the shade of shadow. her body moves from simply leaning forwards to leaning against the counter, her heels planting the wooden bar of the stool between sole and wedge. "oh, don't worry about that!" she so brightly chimes, bright green starry-eyed. [break][break]

"i don't think i've met anyone who was royalty~" she's seen them, back when she was living in kalos, but it doesn't change the fact. all the more impressive is that this lady doesn't look all too much older than she was, although maybe it was hard to tell based on stature and vague outline of face alone. [break][break]

her amusement is followed by a chuckle, leaning back from the woman for her own sake. "i'm sorry, i got a little excited, didn't i?" she chuckles, lowering her rear back into the seat "i'm just amazed~. it certainly doesn't sound like easy work."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Elise Calcifet

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

the contrast is uncanny, and the irony isn't lost. [break][break]

the way her back straightens and the way her voice sounds so stern, to how the tone holds an underlying authoritative bite reminds her so much of them. were it not for the lack of accent, she'd think she's back home - but this is a low energy bar, not a casino or a club. there was no one for her to be eager to please. [break][break]

how cute - perhaps it was a habit? many people communicated differently, and sylvia has met enough stiff rocks and puddy sobbers. there is nothing a warm smile can't break through, but hers always carries the genuine warmth; like no one else existed past her gaze. "thank you! i'm happy to hear it!" her upper body leans against the corner of the bar, elbows casually pressed against the counter. [break][break]

her legs lock with the wooden legs, all to keep herself from slipping off its circular surface. "are you a regular here? i feel like i've seen your face before.." her body moves forward, tilting slightly to catch a glimpse past plum locks, darkened by the atmosphere.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

frankly, she doesn't mind. [break][break]

he doesn't need to lower his voice for someone like her; her smile doesn't lessen for it. still, when her usual day is drunkards slurring and yelling, waving their bottles in the air with voices booming and demands being thrown, she can't help but to feel more at ease. the smile is the slightest less forced.[break][break]

"mhm.. it's a little tricky at first, but it's easy enough to pick up~" even if the guitar she first laid hands on was broken and out of tune, she could still learn. the days she'd spend outside the music shop, tuning a broken guitar to the muffled notes of a piano behind the glass plane were plentiful. [break][break]

amusement befalls her at the question: does she come here often? it really does sound like a way to hit on her, though she can't say it's the worst of what's been said. "no, no, don't worry!" her chipper voice follows, "i actually just moved into hoenn."[break][break]

and how wonderful it's been lately, save having to bar and house hop until she finds a place she wants to rent and call her home. "i've lived closer to the mainland back home, so being close to the sea is a really nice change in scenery."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Elise Calcifet

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

rustboro. [break][break]

she can't say she has a strong opinion of the industrial city - asides from the pay. the stressful life of office and construction workers alike attract many to the bar, and so many stay to listen to her singing; many stay to find happiness awaiting at the bottom of the bottle. sylvia's job was simple: don the mask of seraphim and give them an award-winning smile. [break][break]

the bat of soft emerald eyes and the purse of soft, pearl lips soothes anyone who sees her. she doesn't wear anything fancy when she approaches the stage - only a cute white dress she changed into with a feather crown adorning her hair. her movements are light, from her steps to when she seats herself on the stool. her guitar is secured, the microphone stands in front of her, and her altaria sits as a curled cloud at her legs. [break][break]

the dim lighting and mood.. tells her it's time for a softer, mellow song. she begins amidst the chatter and drunken slurs, then sings amongst the respectful silence of those who just want to enjoy the moment. [break][break]

the song ends, and there's soft clapping - although most people only wave their hands back and forth with an open palm. that's what they called jazz-hands, wasn't it..? it's an interesting custom, and a respectful one at that. how amusing. [break][break]

the petite woman wears another smile, then bows her head before gently leaning her guitar against a resting altaria. "thank you for listening," she chimes into the microphone. "i'll be back soon. please enjoy your nights in the meantime." [break][break]

with that, she makes light steps off the raised platform for a stage, towards the bar. sylvia pulls up a seat next to a lovely woman, who is already enjoying her drink. "excuse me," she calls to the bartender "water, please. thank you." [break][break]

with the order, the bartender walks off, and the young lady turns her attention to the woman seated next to her. sylvia once again, wears a warm smile that reaches the emerald green eyes. "lovely evening tonight, isn't it?~"

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

small crowd tonight, she thinks. [break][break]

not that she'll complain; the circumstances make sense. her busy hours were always in the evenings on a weekend night, and rarely is it ever too busy on a sunday with the responsible adults getting ready for another early day at work, or respectful students getting up early for school. if anyone was drinking, she hopes that they'd be at home. the only downside to this is the lack of tips throughout the week, but she makes enough to manage. [break][break]

the strings of acoustic linger against her fingers, as does her honied voice hang in the air. it's like any other night where she sings a song on a stage too small. the stench of booze doesn't bother her, nor does the slurring of chatter in a busy hour - maybe that's why she's able to keep a steady voice. maybe that's why she can bury the anxiety. [break][break]

but, the people who drink on a weeknight already have enough on their plate. it's why they're there, isn't it? [break][break]

when the song ends, her green eyes open to look to the small crowd. the bartender she's so familiar with is included, but her appearance is so regular that he doesn't need to clap. instead, it's the clap of the other patron that catches the young woman's attention. a bright, verdant gaze is half-lidded when a serene smile rests on her lips. [break][break]

"thank you. it makes me happy to hear you liked it~" sylvia chimes. he isn't drunk, and he isn't slurring, so maybe she can have some pleasant talk before the end of her shift. her body leans forward against the top of her acoustic guitar, consequently leaning away from the microphone to avoid their conversation being picked up and boomed across the establishment. [break][break]

"i'm self-taught~.." sylvia giggles, reaching behind her ear to tuck a loose lock away from her face "although i learned the chords from an old friend." they're fond memories, no matter how many times she looks back into that hell.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]