[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

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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.

---

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[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."

---

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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~."

---

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[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

he must think her odd. [break][break]

and who wouldn't? perhaps she was foolish, or the slightest bit naive, thinking that the world of hoenn could be any more peaceful than the life she had before. yet in the face of it, she smiles, surely thinking that the hell she's personally endured couldn't be any worse than a few mountain moving dragons (it isn't, and she knows, and she doesn't mean it because it's easier to cope with the reality she could finally do something. anything to convince herself that she's no longer the slave). [break][break]

his reaction is amusing. she can only imagine the fantastical things that he's seen, and the thought of adventure, in spite of her peaceful hopes, sparks the interest in emerald green eyes. a chuckle escapes her lips. [break][break]

"yes, i will be careful. thank you."[break][break]

if anything, she should be saying it to he, who she imagines is on the frontline during most of these disasters. [break][break]

"i'm not, no. right now i live in lilycove." she hums, tilting her head in her thought. "although i'm thinking of moving to littleroot or oldale.." there were many places to explore and, though she would like a place quieter, she's aware she'd need a different job, and the commute to a bar on the other side of the region would be less than ideal. so she perks up, fingers tented with her wrists resting over her stomach. [break][break]

"as a native, where would you recommend? i don't want my poor altaria to fly me too far for work."

---

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[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

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boy, she should have gotten a notebook or something.[break][break]

this was good information she was getting, and it's a shame she isn't able to jot down more. hopefully, she'll be able to remember by the time she gets home after a long day? she doubts it, but hey! you miss all the shots you don't take, said a once famous man. seraphim does not know the reference. at least, there's one thing she won't forget any time soon. [break][break]

the pride in his voice. [break][break]

he speaks like a father, proud of his home, in love with the land. she can't help but to wonder, but in this apparent hellhole of a region, maybe that's why he's stayed for as long as he has. at the trail of his mauville suggestion, the songstress lets out a soft hum, followed by a smile. "dewford, huh..?" [break][break]

she'll admit: "mauville sounds like a wonderful place." with a smile on her lips, and perhaps it would be good with business, but the hustle and bustle of the city, the stench of alcohol and drowned desires have grown stale. the excitement of the night has grown exhausting. [break][break]

"but it sounds like your heart's in dewford?" the platinum haired woman chimes, tenting her fingers against her stomach. "you sound like a proud dad~"

---

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[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

alcohol was a great conversation starter. [break][break]

it's an ice breaker, and lays a person's heart bare. unless a person is completely immune to its effects, they'll always spill under the influence of its pleasure; she would know first hand, as someone who'll happily sit on both sides. if you ask her, she'll admit it's fascinating; the way someone can lay their soul out with their guards down. it's magical. [break][break]

she chuckles, locks falling to one side at the slight tilt of her head. "no, it's fine! listening to someone talk about something they love never gets tiring." the vibrant green gaze tells no lie, and really, it isn't any trouble. she's already sitting on her stool, after all, and she'll be the first to admit that this was rejuvenating in of itself. [break][break]

"i mentioned littleroot and oldale for a reason, after all~" sylvia chimes, her fingers idly strumming against the strings of her acoustic. "sure, the big city is nice to be swept away in" the lock she's tucked behind her ear falls over to her shoulder again, but she makes no attempt to remedy it. not this time. "but if you spend so much time out of your head, you eventually lose sight of who you are." she ends with a hum and light note - a contrast to softer, slightest melancholic tone. [break][break]

"i'm sure everyone here is wonderful, if they're like you~" sylvia beams with another strum of her acoustic, a cheeky giggle sounding from her lips all the same.

---

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Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

it's clear that he'd like the idea of a music venue. [break][break]

she'll admit, the idea in of itself is nice. it'd be a great idea if she wanted to spread her music to a larger crowd, or if she wanted to stand on a larger stage that could hold her voice, and the songs she's written. if she wanted to stand on the large stage, under the spotlight, an angel could finally properly shine. perhaps then, she could probably spread her wings. [break][break]

a wonderful dream, indeed. [break][break]

mister sheriff here seems to have a liking to music. if she's bold enough, she'll bring up that his love for music seems to match the passion he has for this little beachside city. the fact that he's still free to speak with her shows that, or maybe she's just that good of a speaking partner? if it's the latter, she'd best give herself a pat on the back - and her boss better give her an extra tip. [break][break]

instead, her coy smile and cheeky tone broaden; no, she makes no attempt to hide them this time around. "call it a gut feeling?" her smile beams, upper body leaning against the top of a wooden acoustic. her fingers, still, idly strum with the note to match a near sing-song muse. "you meet a lot of people in bars, and everyone becomes honest after just enough drinks in." she chuckles, though perhaps her sense of danger is too muted. [break][break]

"besides," sylvia slowly closes her eyes, and her idle strums slowly form a more cohesive tune "someone with so much love for something can't be a bad person."

---

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