Lynn tossed uneasily in her sleep. Lately the music had filled her nights more and more and tonight it was relentless, filling her mind with melody that seemed to be trying to take over her very thoughts. It was only after hours of staring at the ceiling that she finally drifted off, curling up around a pillow, fingers twitching as if she was playing chords.
MUSIC!!
Suddenly Lynn bolted upright in bed, the fragments of melody that had been dancing around randomly suddenly coming together in something that was demanding to be written down.
With a muttered curse, Lynn stumbled out of bed, banging into a chair on the way to the table and the paper on it. She fumbled a lamp on and clawed the hair out of her eyes, clutching the pen and peering blearily at the paper.
“Broken cages.” She mumbled under breath.
22 suxx
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[01] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
10, 6, 2, 10, 5, 1, 10, 2, 9, 4
4 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[02] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
8, 6, 10, 3, 4, 10, 2, 4, 8
4 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[03] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
7, 3, 6, 6, 2, 7, 4
failure
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[04] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
10, 9, 2, 8, 4, 5, 2, 2
3 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[05] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
10, 1, 5, 6, 4, 5, 4, 5
1 success
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[06] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
7, 10, 8, 8, 5, 1, 1, 10, 8
5 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 18:53:50
[07] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
2, 10, 1, 3, 10, 10, 5, 10, 7, 8, 2
5 successes
Hours later Lynn woke up in a nest of discarded paper, pen still clutched in one hand and one sheet of paper stuck to her face where she had lain on it. She managed to peel it off and was dismayed to find that she now had the imprint of . . . . she peered at it in the mirror and found that she now had the chorus of her latest song on her cheek.
A couple hours later, she pulled the music sheets together, looking over the fruits of her late night labor. Surprisingly, it was quite good and she started absently humming the melody, finding that it was surprisingly catchy.
16 suxx
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[01] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
3, 3, 5, 3, 2, 8, 3
1 success
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[02] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
10, 10, 5, 9, 2, 1, 10, 4, 3, 1
4 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[03] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
3, 5, 10, 6, 7, 2, 4, 3
1 success
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[04] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
4, 1, 3, 6, 7, 4, 9
1 success
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[05] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
3, 7, 5, 9, 8, 7, 7
2 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[06] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
6, 10, 8, 5, 6, 10, 4, 9, 2
4 successes
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2015-05-20 19:02:25
[07] Lynn Mills rolls 7 to write music [Wits (2) + Expression (4) + Specialty (1)] (10 Again)
9, 5, 7, 1, 9, 6, 8
3 successes
Grabbing her violin, Lynn went out to her landing and managed to climb up onto the roof. It was the afternoon of a glorious day and anyways she didn’t want to piss off the neighbors by playing. Things had gotten tense enough lately.
You gave up on your dreams
You gave up on your hope
Done with life you’re unwilling to cope
Maybe I’m not, maybe I’ll fight
Can’t wait to see me by the end of the night
Broken Dreams and a locked cage door
You’re content to just like there on the floor
You gave up; will no longer try
Are you really so willing to die?
Now you’ve got the key in you’re hands
It’s time you started making plans
Take a chance, make a change, make a choice
Take the wheel and plot a new course
The world is broken and you can see it
Are you willing to accept it?
Broken Dreams and a locked cage door
You’re content to just like there on the floor
You gave up; will no longer try
Are you really so willing to die?
This is your chance, your time, your dance
No second chances and no repeats
Time to find your wings and leave your feet
New Hope and a broken cell door
They’ll never be able to hold you any more
You take a chance and you might fall
But is that worse than never trying at all?
Lynn jogged along the sidewalk, coming the unfortunate conclusion that Morgan, her Motley mate, was utterly insane. Nobody who was remotely sane could enjoy this sort of thing. She was considered by some to be in good shape, but ever since she’d realized that she’d never be able to keep up with her Motley in a dead sprint; she’d started to try and get in shape. So far, it was not going well. The fact that she had a fiddle case strapped to her back while she ran didn’t help, but it did get her some interesting looks from the other pedestrians.
“Gah….. the woman is insane. Utterly, completely mad.” Lynn groaned as she made her way around the back of her building and stood looking up at the stairs. Three flights worth of stairs. She could swear that there were more and more of them the longer she looked.
“Yeah. Not just yet.” Instead she sat down on the bottom step and tried to figure out just how she had bound herself to somebody who thought running was fun.
Weak rustlings and a faint hiss interrupted her musings. Given that it came from the pile of dead leaves and grass caught under the stairs behind her, Lynn was at first more likely to just leave it than care, but what ever it was sounded as if it was in real trouble. So instead she round a long stick and carefully started pulling back layers, searching for whatever it was that she heard.
“See, this is how I end up with rabies. Or hepatitis, or something else wonderful.” Lynn carefully peeled back dried leaves, only to catch a glimpse of black fur. The whatever it was hissed again and burrowed deeper. “Seriously? I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful little . . . . thing.” Lynn growled and shifted her weight, carefully pulling back some more refuse only to find herself looking at a very badly torn up tom cat. He’d obviously been in more than one fight, but evidently had come out the loser in this last one. “Yeah, I’m sure I don’t wanna see the other guy,” Lynn murmured as she crouched, reaching out to try and touch him. She recently learned a new contract with Spring and if she could just get close, she’d be able to help.
The cat was obviously having none of it and only glared before burrowing back further into the pile.
Lynn tried for a few more moments before giving up the straightforward approach and deciding to go with the ‘smarter, not harder’ way of doing things. Half a bag of roast beef later, she’d managed to get the tom cat close enough to touch and was finally able to enact the Contract of Eternal Spring. Her hair wiped in a sudden breeze and for a moment it seemed as if it was about to rain. But instead she watched with a smile as the wounds on the cat closed up, leaving him healthy and probably a bit bewildered. He sat up straight and licked his whiskers, uttering a soft and confused ‘mrow?’. Lynn just grinned a bit and tapped him on the nose.
“Next time, be a bit more careful, huh?”
With a sigh, she brushed off her hands and went upstairs; good deed for the day done.
The next morning, she was staring groggily at a report for her online sales when she heard a ‘thump’ at her door. Staggering up, she pulled it open, peering blearily out and finding nobody. Looking right revealed only an empty stair case and left was the edge of her balcony. She blinked for a moment and then sighed, looking down. There sat the cat from yesterday, looking smug. It licked it’s whiskers and purred in a self congratulating way.
“So, I really hope that you can introduce me to a good drummer that needs a group to gig with.” Lynn smiled winningly at Nate. He’d been the only one around when she showed up at their tiny little hole-in-the-wall production company. It was small, but they were quite good and she privately thought that they would someday be successful. But for now, they were relying on a network of word of mouth contacts to build a brand for themselves. Which is why she came to them; if anybody would know about a drummer, it would be them.
“Actually, yeah.” Nate leaned back and shook a few strands of dirty blond hair out of his eyes. “His last group kinda dissolved on him and he’s at loose ends. He’s giving lessons out at the local colleges to make ends meet, so I know he’d appreciate something interesting to work on.”
Lynn grinned again and nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. Can you give me an introduction?”
Nate looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Are you gonna bring this group to us when you’re ready to cut a CD?”
Lynn mock growled and chucked a nearby paperback at his head.
-----------------
Several days later, Lynn found herself on campus again for the first time in years. It was rather larger than she thought it would be and she found herself forced to ask for directions from one of the students wandering around. The young woman seemed happy to direct her, mentioning that she was going in that direction anyways; if Lynn would help her haul some of the bags that she was carrying. It was easy to agree to.
Walking through the warm spring air, Lynn glanced down and saw that one of the bags she carried was full of car manuals.
“Are you a mechanic?”
“No!” Eyes wide, the girl looked angry…and perhaps a bit sad.
Silence for a moment then. “I was just getting rid of those.” A glance confirmed that now the young woman just looked sad. Lynn held her tongue for the moment. There was something there….. A moment’s communion with the gifts of Spring granted her the information that the young woman next to her was wildly interested in mechanical things, but for some reason was walking away from it.
“Why?” The simple question hung in the air, seeming to stump her companion.
“Because…because there’s no point. It’s not like I’ll earn a lot of money and…”
Lynn laughed and interrupted her. “Are you kidding? Do you know how much trades jobs actually earn?”
The young woman stopped in her tracks and starred at Lynn in confusion. “But…but it’s dirty and nobody would want a woman to work on their car…”
It seemed that she was repeating the arguments that other people had been feeding her. Lynn took a step closer and pointed one finger at her. “One. Soap exists for a reason. Two, what about other women? You think they won’t feel more comfortable around you?”
The poor young woman now looked a bit like a stranded fish. Had nobody ever supported her dreams? Lynn signed and shifted the bags she was carrying. “Look. It could be bad. And there’s no denying that it’ll be an uphill battle. But there’s no reason that you can’t work on something you love. Give it a semester, then decide”
Looking around, Lynn found that she could see the music building, where she would hopefully be able to find her new drummer. “Listen. There’s no reason to give up, ok? Just give it a chance.”
Lynn sat in her tiny corner of a kitchen and indulged in a very rare drink. After Daniel helped her get back in touch with Jason, she had a new quest of sorts. She knew that there were three other trapped souls tied to instruments somewhere in the Sacramento area. And she had to find them somehow. Frowning, she pulled out her fiddle. There had to be something distinctive about it, something that she could use to trace others of it’s kind. For the first time, she examined the fiddle closely. There was a certain elegance to its construction and the color would certainly be distinctive. But she didn’t even know what type of instruments she was looking for.
Maybe it would be easier to look for the musicians instead.
Three more Lost souls, who lost the ones they loved and were tied to them for the rest of their lives. And when they finally died, their loved ones were trapped in some sort of limbo, lost as well and unable to reach out.
Trapped in a Hell of a Keeper’s making.
Taking another long pull from the bottle, Lynn considered her options. She’d thought at first that she could get Andrea Ward to help her, but the PI had blown town almost as soon as she’d shown up. Which meant that she no longer had anybody specifically skilled in looking for things to help her search. Which meant…. Google searches it was. Great.
With a sigh, she got up and tucked the fiddle under one arm. It was all of six steps over to the computer, but that was still past the end of her invisible tether. Sitting down, she pulled up a search engine and started typing.
Obituaries, musicians, Sacramento CA
There was nothing quite like the smell of old books.
No matter how much knowledge was stored on the internet now, it just didn’t feel real unless you were holding it in your hands. Any serious research should be done the old fashioned way.
Of course, the fact that she was looking up information about other musicians who may or may not have been in possession of Bone Instruments such as hers, might have something to do with the fact that she wasn’t able to find any real details. And so Lynn had come to Ava’s shop, in the hopes that somewhere in her vast array of collected knowledge, might be a crumb or two that would set her on the right path. And still, there was the smell of old books.
After hours of research and pages of notes, she finally came across a possibility.
In 1950, a young man appeared on the music scene in Sacramento, known only by the name Buster. He was thin, barely spoke to people and had nothing that really seemed to belong to him other than an intricately carved ivory harmonica that he refused to ever part with. Local legend states that he carried it everywhere with him, making a semi-decent living by busking on the streets when he could and working odd jobs when he had to. He would have stayed mostly in the shadows, unknown as anything but a local legend, except that one day he happened to be heard by a recording executive, who tried to convince him to sign on with his label. According to his friends, that was the one time they ever saw Buster get angry, in fact he became so enraged at what he called “a trick to trap me again” that he had to be restrained from beating the executive senseless.
In 1960, Buster was caught in the crossfire of a local gang skirmish and died three days later of the wounds he received. His funeral was well attended by the local musicians, but other than that it mostly passed by unremarked. His final wish was that he be buried with his harmonica in his breast pocket. “Her and me, we’ve been together for so long. Might as well take the final journey together.”
Lynn held the book up and looked carefully at the black and white photo of a slim young man with haunted eyes. “Hello Buster. I believe we have something in common.”
The battlefield was chaos, people falling to the ground and screaming, clutching at wounds or reaching after severed limbs. Lynn ran through it, searching for anybody that she could help. Before her, a fighter fell to the ground, moaning and clutching at a gapping belly wound. Lynn fell to her knees beside them, knocking the helmet aside in her search for a pulse. Her hands hesitated only for an instant as she saw Coco’s face. They’d had another screaming match only hours before, poisoned words spewing from the Wasp’s lips as she ranted, hatred and contempt clear in her voice. Lynn didn’t know what had set her off that time. She still didn’t know, and right now she didn’t care. With a muttered swear, she pushed the other woman’s hands aside, trying to assess how bad her injuries were.
--------------------------
“And how did that make you feel?” Lynn blinked, finding herself laying back on a therapists couch. The voice had come from over her right shoulder, a glance showed her an older man sitting there, light glinting off his glasses as he scribbled down notes. He glanced up and raised one eyebrow. “Lynn, this is important. You were in a situation where you had the chance to save somebody you had every reason to dislike. Her life was literally in your hands. How did that make you feel?”
Lynn shook her head. “But that didn’t matter. That I didn’t like her, I mean. The only thing that mattered was that she was hurt and that I could make things better.” A soft noise pulled her attention over to the left and she frowned. “Who are they?” Instead of a wall where she might expect one, there was just the sense of vast space; and in front of that there was a crowd of indistinct forms. She couldn’t make any of them out; it was more as if they were the suggestion of a form, rather than fulfilling it.
“They don’t matter Lynn. It’s just you and me.” The old man’s voice pulled her attention for just a moment and when she looked back, the wall was where it should be, supporting a shelf full of books. “Now, what about this Sandman you’ve mentioned before. You did end up killing him, yes?”
Lynn sat up on the couch, curling her feet underneath her. “Yes we did. There was no other way to keep him from hurting people. Hurting children specifically.” The old man folded his hands over his pad and frowned at her. “Are you sure?” Lynn opened her mouth to retort, then closed it and ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe there might have been another way, if we could have understood why he was doing what he was. Maybe if we could have stopped him from using dreams as weapons, we might have rehabilitated him. But we didn’t have any of that knowledge, so yes, that was the only thing we could have done.” The old man nodded, pursing his lips.
“And if you had that knowledge. What would you have done with it?”
------------------------------
A horn blared outside her window, blasting Lynn from the warm cocoon of her bed and causing her to half fall to the floor as she thrashed around, fighting to untangle herself. Moaning, she rubbed one hand across her forehead.
Lynn struggled to fill out the last lines of the test, chewing her pencil as she thought. She’d learned basic medical skills at the seminar she’d gone to, but this was really stretching the limits of everything she’d learned since. And she wasn’t sure how much any of it would really matter to the Freehold. Half of the citizens were only huminoid at best. Should she use morphine or ketamine when trying to sedate someone with beast like tendencies? And how the hell could she put a bandage on someone who was basically a living pillar of flame?
Sweating, she finally finished, pushing the test across the desk at the cowled woman sitting there. Oddly enough, Lynn wasn’t entirely sure that the woman had a face. A pair of slim, colorless hands reached out, flipping through the pages one by one.
“Adequate. For a beginner. Barely.”
Lynn winced, hunching over slightly. “I know. But I’m all the Freehold has and I’m doing my best.”
“Hmph. Your best could be better.” She raised a hand and beckoned; her gesture somehow parting the colorless mist they were surrounded by. “You’ll have to get started right away, if you want to be able to do any good when the time comes.” She stood, somehow conveying the idea of being aged, yet spry. “You can’t just rely on the Gift of Spring, girl! You need practical skills! Otherwise you run the risk of healing something all wrong. You really want to end up healing a bone crooked or something?”
Lynn hurried through the mist after her. “Um, not that I’m not grateful for the offer. At least I think it was an offer. But why? Are you offering?” She glance around at the other figures that seemed to be surrounding them in the mist. “And who are you, anyways?”
There was a dry snort. “There are so many names…And very few of them matter.”
“The ones you use for yourself do.” Lynn surprised herself, and from the way the woman drew up short, it seems that she was surprised as well. She glanced over her shoulder at Lynn. “Well. Perhaps you’ll do after all.” Her voice seemed to smile. “Come along then.”
“I’m sorry. But again, who are you?” Lynn was having to trot to keep up. For a shorter person, the woman could move. Of course, Lynn wasn’t entirely sure that she was actually walking.
“We have been called Leeches and Nightmares and Quacks. There are those who call us Dream Doctors.”
Suddenly an old and bent man reared up out of the mist, holding a gnarled staff and wearing a headdress with two curling rams horns. “There are some who call me . . . Tim.” The woman pointed a finger at him. “This is neither the time, nor the place!” With a sharp motion of her hand, she banished the old man. Lynn was sure she heard a yelp coming from one of the shadows. The woman sighed. “Well. Now that the moment has been lost.” She pushed back the cowl of her robe, revealing herself to be somewhere in her 60’s, with iron grey hair. For some reason, Lynn was irresistibly reminded of her favorite elementary school teacher.
“What we are dear, is a group of people who have managed to blend the practice of oneiromancy and healing. Not all of us are Spring, but all of us are healers in some way. You’ve managed to catch our attention. So, here’s our offer. We’ll teach you our ways and help you become all that you could be. However, if you ever us our ways to cause harm to others…..Well.” Lynn shuddered at bit at the look in her eyes.
“In the meantime, you need to learn more in order to join up. So, we thought we’d step in and offer a bit of tutoring. Interested?”
Lynn felt her jaw hanging open and had to force it closed with a bit of difficulty. “Um, yes?”
“Good. Go through there please.” The woman pointed towards a door that was suddenly standing in the middle of the mist. Lynn took a deep breath and placed her hand on the door, sure that it was going to lead to very interesting things.
Waking up in the morning, Lynn felt very much like she had a hangover without the pain. Learning from these people was very much like drinking from a fire hose. You either managed to handle it or drowned in the process. And she wasn't entirely sure what the end result was going to be.
Lynn checked over her appears one last time, making sure that she'd really found what she thought she had. For months now, she'd tried to track down the other Bone Instruments created by the White Lady who'd made a deal with her, years ago. It had been a long and torturous process, first figuring out who'd had one in the first place; by finding who'd suddenly come out of nowhere with a gift and an instrument that they'd never part with. Then she'd had to find what had happened with their instruments when they'd died.
The first had been an old blues player by the name of Black Ace. He'd been one of the last greats, pouring his heart and soul out into his music through a delicately carved harmonica. He had often referred to it as a 'her' and always carried it in a case in his coat pocket. She'd recognized it as the work of the White Lady by the carvings - the same as those that adorned her fiddle. When he passed, his things were auctioned off, except for his harmonica which was to be buried with him. For a while, she'd been afraid that she'd have to start grave robbing, but it eventually turned out that it had been stolen by some attendants at the funeral home. So, no grave robbing; just a bit of light robbery. That was better, right?
The second player had been a trumpet player by the name of Alex. He'd come out of nowhere, shone brightly for a year; all the while battling drug and alcohol problems. Finally he'd lost everything, everything except for the trumpet he always carried. When the bank took everything else, they also tried to take his trumpet - Alex had fought like a crazed animal against the police, dying when one of them was forced to fire in self defense. His trumpet had been sold to a pawnshop. It wasn't easy to track after that, but she'd finally tracked it down in a shop. She'd actually been able to just pay money for the thing and it was sitting in the chair across from her at the moment.
The final instrument had been a flute; owned by a woman by the name of Meredith. She hadn't been performing for years, but there were rumors that she was still living in an assisted care facility up north. Which was were Lynn was going now. There was a chance that meredith had been living with eh same guilt and rage that she'd been feeling for so long. And if she could help the woman find some peace, along with finding it herself…..
Lynn looked across the room to where her bags sat, already packed. One quick stop and then a trip up state. It was time to lay some old ghosts to rest.
Thank you all for your hospitality. I'll be back when I've got the time and energy. @Seleena
WestOrigins
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