( open ) good times for a change,

[lorelaiandrews]

The morning rain had finally stopped falling and the sun was peeking through the clouds, slowly rousing people from their homes. They began to fill the streets, and Capeside Bay was becoming a rather popular place to spend the improving Saturday afternoon. Lorelai had the day off, and while most people would revel in the free time, she didn’t really have anything else to do. She enjoyed working. It occupied her and it gave her the opportunity to meet new people- something she’d never have the courage to do any other time. But she hated to sit at home because, while she was always pretty useless, she was even more so indoors- she decided to take the opportunity to go out to the park.

There were days when she went to the Capeside Bay to play her banjo and get some extra cash, and this was one of them. The standard of living around the area was higher than what she could afford, so any extra help was welcomed. She didn’t like to beg, but she’d managed to twist the entire concept of street performing in her head to the point where it was justified. No one had to drop money in the case open at her feet. She was just thankful if they did. People were good souls, contrary to popular belief; she wasn’t sure that she liked the hype that they were terrible and mean. From what she could see, everyone was lovely and helpful and she never wanted to take advantage of that. But sometimes, she had to do what she had to do, and if someone were to help, well. It just further proved how nice everyone seemed to be.

Lorelai, dressed comfortably in one of her floral-printed dresses, carried Louis (because she had so many inclinations to name all of her important possessions) through the area and finally settled on the edge of a bench in the grassy area. Life surrounded her; the grass was too wet still for picnics, but the tables were full and kids (whom she adored) were playing without caring about anything other than fun. They were so innocent. It was her idea of a perfect day, and she was stationed far enough away from the action for people to tune her in or out as they pleased.

She opened the case and pulled the instrument out, tugging it up onto her lap. It took a mere two minutes to make sure it was tuned before she began to pluck a light tune. Her act would probably be more enhanced had she actually decided to add vocals, but that was one thing she never did have the confidence to do, even back in Minnesota with Attic Ghosts. She didn’t really have much confidence in anything, actually, but she’d grown accustomed to that.

Her light tune soon flowed into the melody of an actual song, though one that was probably less than recognizable to those around her. Lore supposed that most people related banjos with country music in their heads, but she didn’t have one song of said genre in her repertoire. Not that there was anything wrong with it, of course- it simply wasn’t “her thing”. She continued, chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip, her gaze flipping upwards ever so often to judge the reactions of those around her. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden.

[elsie]

For the past hour, young Elsie Porter had been sitting in a tree house, letting her hair frizz and finishing her tea. She remembered when that treehouse was built: she was four years old and her brother wanted it. At the time, she’d been afraid of heights. She’d broken her arm a year prior trying to ride a bicycle and had been scarred by the notion of falling, especially from high places, and shattering into a million pieces. Her older brother, Charlie, on the other hand, could have thrown on a monkey costume and no one would be the wiser. He was always climbing trees whenever they went camping, despite their mother’s panicked pleas not to. Mr. Porter was more carefree and always convinced Mrs. Porter that Charlie’d be fine. He always was fine, in the end, if not a little bruised with a few scraps along the way.

And so, when the treehouse was built in the large backyard of the Porter’s property, Elsie wouldn’t go in it. It took her father two months-- one very long summer-- to coax the young blonde up the rope ladder and into the small wooden box. When she finally did get up there, she fell in love. She invaded the space that had been her brother’s secret layer and made it her own. She dragged her mother to the fabric store and constructed poorly made curtains. She drew pictures and taped them on the wall. She even tried to cork a carpet, but had come to find that dealing with wool was just too itchy and she took a bath towel to lay on the floor instead. Eventually, her older brother was so displeased over the fact that his younger sister had taken over his domain, he rarely visited the treehouse, and so it became Elsie’s.

As she grew up, the treehouse seemed smaller and smaller, but it was still her favourite spot to read, drink tea, take a nap, eat cookies, or do pretty much everything other simple activity she enjoyed. Once the sound of the rain gently dancing against the top of the treehouse slowed, she sighed and climbed down the rope ladder and wandered back inside. After placing her mug in the sink, she slid on her rain boots and ran her fingers through her hair to get out the knots and tame the frizzies. The park. She’d like to go to the park today. She had nothing else to do-- Elsie always did her homework right away so she’d never have to worry about it-- and she didn’t know if Brodie could handle her brother him two days in a row.

Soon Elsie began the short trek to the part and frowned to find that the swings were rather wet. She sighed but guessed that even if they were dry, she’d get dirty looks for being on them. Adults didn’t really like it when teenagers went on the play structures. Apparently they weren’t allowed to let out their inner child anymore. It was quite the shame. Something tickled her ears and she looked around, distracted from the swings, and tried to place it. A smile spread on her face she found the cause of the tickle, or rather, the noise.

Elsie wandered over to Lorelai and her banjo, drawn by both the music and the woman. Looking around, she tried to find something to put in Lorelai’s guitar case. Elsie almost never carried money with her, but felt like the banjo needed a friend to travel home with. She found a small wildflower in the ground, plucked it, and placed it in the case at Lorelai’s feet, waiting contently for her to finish her song so she could bother the older woman. Waiting quietly was hard for Elsie, however, and she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from talking and ruining the performance. Curse her talkative nature.

words: 654 - tagged: lorelai - outfit: here - notes: nom nom nom

[lorelaiandrews]

Lorelai didn’t really expect anyone to be listening to her. Sure, she came out to the same park on a semi-regular basis to play, but she was still surprised when someone dropped money into her case or stopped to listen to her. She knew she was good- that wasn’t something she really had to question. She’d just spent a lot of time practicing in her youth and it had really paid off. But just because she was a decent musician, that didn’t mean everyone was going to stop and listen. She didn’t expect anyone to. She just really enjoyed playing- it provided a good distraction and it gave her something to do. If she didn’t come out and play, she’d probably never get fresh air aside from the time it took to walk to and from work. And then there was the fact that if she played her instruments inside her apartment all the time, she’d probably piss everyone off. Sure, she did sometimes, during the day, but when she played it inside the building, her neighbors couldn’t exactly… Escape. At least, at the park, it was a wide enough open space that people didn’t have to pay attention to her if they didn’t want to.

So it startled her a bit when she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye, and her attention was attracted down to her banjo case where the flower sat. Her strumming slowed as a slow smile spread across her face at the sight, until she finished off with a chord and turned her attention up to see who had done the deed. Her delight only increased when she spotted Elsie. Lorelai had a soft spot for Elsie. The girl was just so… Adorable, and she wanted to hug her all the time. Of course she’d get a flower from her.

”Hi,” Lore greeted brightly, setting her banjo down so the neck was propped up against the edge of the bench. She didn’t really mind the company. If anything, she welcomed it- as much as she loved playing her music, she loved any opportunity she had to bond with someone, too. She was quiet, sure, but she was also a people person. Those people she did have in her life she liked to talk to them as much as possible. Even more than that, she loved to listen. She loved to befriend interesting people because they always told such… Interesting stories. They were fun to listen to.

Extending her arms out for a hug, Lorelai crossed her ankles and cocked her head to the side. ”It’s been awhile. How are you? What have you been up to?” she prompted, although she was pretty sure she didn’t really need to give Elsie a reason to talk- not that it was a bad thing. Lorelai preferred to listen. She didn’t really have much to say, anyways- her life was pretty routinely mundane, and while she enjoyed it, it didn’t make for very interesting stories.

ooc. this is so short, I’m sorry. D:

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[elsie]

How was she? Now there was an interesting question if she’d ever heard one. It was a simple question, really, and most people just preferred to answer it with the typical ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I’m good’. But how often were those things true? Rarely. Outwardly one might be putting on a brave face and acting as if there was nothing wrong in their life, but Elsie knew that for most people, saying ‘I’m good’ was quite the elaborate, although boring, lie. However, in Elsie’s case, answering with ‘I’m good’ or ‘I’m fine’ wouldn’t actually be a lie. The girl lived her life in a general state of contentment. She worked hard, she loved her family, she loved her friends, and she was one of the most bubbly girls a person could ever meet. She tried not to let other people bring her down because she truly believed that it just wasn’t worth it. So when Lorelai asked her how she was, she found herself wanting to answer in a slightly different way than she was sure that the girl was used to hearing.

”I’m...perplexed,” she said with a nod after a second of thought. ”Yes, perplexed. Sometimes things just confuse you, y’know? Well, of course they confuse you. If you understood everything in the world I think it would be awfully boring because you’d know everything and there would be nothing new to discover. So by perplexed I mean that I am confused about one specific situation in my life, and not perplexed in the general sense of the word.” And there she was, rambling as always. For a brief moment she shut herself up. Would Lorelai even be able to follow that thought? There were some people that looked at Elsie with a strange sort of look in their eyes, almost as if their eyes had glazed over and she’d almost completely lost their attention. It was almost concerning how often she got that look from people.

Elsie sat down on the bench next to the banjo and absentmindedly her leg bounced up and down slightly. She was an energetic person and sitting still didn’t sit well with her, pardon the pun. She happily squeezed Lorelai in a great big hug; Elsie loved giving hugs. Her favourite type were the ones where you just sort of sprung at the person when they weren’t paying attention. She loved giving people a start. ”Well, I met a man,” Elsie said with a nod. Lately these days she was telling anyone about Brodie. She was infatuated; she couldn’t shut up about him, even though he probably wanted nothing to do with her. Oh well, that was his problem, not hers. ”And I intend to make him mine. So that’s what’s happening,” she said with a bright laugh. Yeah, she was a strange cookie. ”What about you? What’s new in the wonderful life of Lorelai?” she asked in return. Though she talked a lot, she did like knowing how other people were doing. Sometimes it just took them a minute to get her to stop talking so they could respond.

words: 528 - tagged: lorelai - outfit: here - notes: nom nom nom