fey_fire

Doubt whom you will, but never yourself. -Christine Bovee


"Oh my god," Sascha groaned as Breaker Street trailed backstage after their first concert. "That was awful."

Rory blinked in mild surprise. Apparently their young keyboardist had expected a better reception. "The crowd wasn't all that bad, lass."

Her eyebrows arched in incredulity. "Are you kidding me? They were so god-awfully bored! And the hecklers--"

Kreske hooted with laughter, still spinning his drumsticks through his fingers. "That? That wasn't heckling, Sascha sweet. That was just a few catcalls."

( Sascha did not look appeased. )

Muse: Rory MacEibhir / Rory Stone
Fandom: The Grey Horse by R.A. MacAvoy
Word count: 973

Rory took another pass through his living room to ensure that the premises looked at least decent, sprinkled with a little comfortable clutter instead of out and out messy. Normally he did a better job of keeping his Woodside apartment tidy, but lately he had been too busy. Practice, meetings, interviews, planning sessions, photo ops and more practice had sucked up the last dregs of his free time, until he barely had a few minutes even to keep in touch with his family anymore.

Of course, if he had more time at home, there would be more mess needing cleaning. He supposed it evened out in some ways.

But today he'd managed to wedge open a slice of his schedule for an interview he actually anticipated with pleasure instead of resignation. Instead of talking to jaded music industry reporters on the hunt for shallow gossip material, he'd be discussing Breaker Street's debut CD with a young man who actually shared Rory's passion for music. Instead of gritting his teeth and reminding himself that he was doing all this to help his band, he could enjoy the fact that he was helping a friend spice up his class assignment. Rory whistled a few bars from Automatic Panic as he arranged his electronic keyboard and six-string acoustic guitar ready to hand for demo purposes.

Only then did it occur to him to glance in a mirror. Eh. He'd do. Jeans, a blue sleeveless t-shirt and a mane of dark hair that wasn't any more rumpled than usual. A buzz from the intercomm told him that his guest was right on time. "Hello, is that you Val?"

I'm going with Rory Stone on this prompt, because he's got the best-developed set of NPCs in the form of his band, Breaker Street.

1. Who are the NPCs / supporting cast members in your character's life? (if you don't have any, feel free to invent some now!)

Junie Cabriano: second guitar, occasionally plays an electric cello.
Nelson "Nil" Cameron: Bass guitarist.
Marcus Kreske: Drums.
Sascha Brockmann: Keyboards.
Dave Rackley: Keyboards and backup percussionist.
Morrie Dubrowsky: Was the sound tech for their club gigs, is now trying to find his place among the technicians and producers at Serptichore Records, the company that signed the band.

He has a few others as well. Vince Gereghty, the man who's working on the studio production of Breaker Street's debut CD, is a character on loan to me from serptichore's mun, so I can't do anything too outrageous with him without prior approval. Ben Wentworth is a past lover of Rory's who's had a mention or two in prompts and RP and decided to speak up with some background stories just in the past couple of days. He could conceivably show up in the present day. Others will no doubt crop up as Rory's tale progresses.

( More questions behind the cut )

Bonus points: Write a ficlet about one of your characters as told from the POV of one of their NPCs/supporting cast members.

This one flashes forward some months, to when Breaker Street are weeks into their first tour as the opening act for Sweet Christmas, one of Serptichore's headliner groups.

( Back here! Clicky! )

Takes place after this prompt and this post.

Rory got to The Columns a little later than he'd planned, mostly due to his determined efforts to pack away anything of Pippa's left in his apartment. Maybe later tripping over traces of her would no longer feel so cutting, but right now he was still far too raw.

He also took a break in the middle of the day to pick up small gifts for the rest of Breaker Street. Nothing flashy, just small silver charms of various Chinese symbols, easy to dangle off chains, earrings or zipper pulls as the wearer chose. He chose symbols that in his mind represented each of his fellow band members, courage for Nil, happiness for Sascha, strength for Kreske, awesome for Junie, peace for Dave and intellect for Morrie. To each of these he added a symbol for success, a wish for the New Year. After a moment's thought, he bought another success charm for Peter along with the symbol for friendship. Then, remembering that Cait might show up if she could cut loose from her publisher's office party, he went back for a prayer box he thought she'd like.

But he was here now, with the one indisputable advantage of riding a motorcycle in the city: parking wasn't a problem even when late. Nor was gaining access to the already-crowded club, the guys on the door remembered him from the many times Breaker Street played here and waved him in with grins and the news that his band has already arrived. The Columns took up a large piece of a converted warehouse; he could feel the music throbbing through the cavernous airspace as he walked in. Sister Mystere had the stage tonight, and they'd pulled in a good crowd already.

"Ro-RY! Over here!" For such a slim little thing, Sascha had quite a set of lungs on her. Rory waved in answer and threaded his way over to the table where his friends were waiting. Jaye sitting next to Nil meant that the Camerons must have gotten lucky with a sitter, and Junie was on the arm of a man she introduced as Felipe, but Morrie, Dave, Sascha and Kreske were solo. Good, he wouldn't feel like the odd man out then.

"What are you having, Rory?" Dave asked as he waved over a waitress. "Fruit juice as usual?"

Fruit juice. Seven hells, did even something as mundane as a drink order have to call up memories of Pippa, smiling as she presented him with one of her juice concoctions at Last Call? Rory bit back a particularly vile Gaeilge curse and kept his smile on his face. He was determined to enjoy himself tonight no matter what. "I'll have a Guinness," he told the waitress. A púca like himself couldn't get drunk on New Years Eve, but what the hell. It would be symbolic, like the charms.

"Cait and Peter Webster might show up a bit later. You all remember Peter, right?" A chorus of affirmation from the band was followed by Sascha crowing, "Excellent! More people to dance with." His beer showed up, the waitress gave him a smile, and Rory started to relax. He could do this. No problem.

Be wary of the man who urges an action in which he himself incurs no risk. -Joaquin Setanti


Takes place shortly after this gig of Breaker Street's at Last Call. Robbie Fellowes/Robin Goodfellow (ifwebefriends) is mentioned with his mun's permission. Cait and Tadhg MacEibhir can be found at a_chaitlin and gifted_hands respectively.


Well. That went better than I expected. Better than I had any right to expect, really.

The four-stroke Kawasaki engine underneath him sent a purr through Rory Stone's body as he cut through traffic, still present even at three in the morning, on his way home. His body adjusted smoothly to turns and lane changes as his mind once again went over his meeting with his fellow members of Breaker Street.

After all, when the musicians in a band learn both that the producer who found his way into the audience that night (namely one Robbie Fellowes, CEO of Serptichore Records) wants to sign them, and their lead guitarist/singer/songwriter (namely himself) had known that same producer for many years without ever mentioning the connection, their excitement at the former could certainly wind up tempered by a little what the hell were you thinking?! ire at the latter.

( But that wasn't the real risk ... )

Muse: Rory MacEibhir / Rory Stone, fey_fire
Fandom: The Grey Horse by R.A. MacAvoy
Word count: 2125