With skin too tight and eyes like marbles, you spin me high. {Open}

[warmeryouth]

Bailey, much to the dismay of both his mother and his sister, has always been a morning person. No matter how late he crawls into bed, he finds himself up as soon as even an inkling of sun sneaks its way through his window. He's never minded, besides; the early morning hours prove something of a holy hour, during which he finds himself blessed with tides of inspiration.

He watches the tides this morning, standing at the very edge of the boardwalk, the sun just beginning its climb in the sky. The salty air bristles his skin and his lungs as he breathes it in; guitar strapped around his shoulder, he strums on the instrument a bit, letting the quiet melody blend with the cry of seagulls and the fervor of the waves as they rush onto shore. For once, he pours his siren abilities into his playing, to add to the lilting quality of the song as the lyrics start to from in his head.

He sings them as they come to him, the words flickering out into the world like the wings of uncertain sparrows. This is his calling in life, he knows. And not just because of his siren abilities. Music lives in his blood, and he relishes the beauty of it as it unfurls in his veins.

Siren Cove is where he's meant to be, he realizes, as his fingers stir more fervently on his instrument and his song takes flight to greater heights. There is magic to this place beyond that of sirens and witches; a magic only music can really translate.

So in the early morning hours, he stands. And he sings.

Comments

[warmeryouth]

Bailey stops singing when he hears the second instrument, but his fingers only fly with more determination over the strings. He grins in response to the other man's quirked eyebrow, gladly accepting the addition to the song; his harmony brings additional life to the tune, makes Bailey want to dance around the boardwalk like a complete buffoon. Luckily, he pours his intentions into the music instead.

From the way the other man plays, Bailey can tell he appreciates music as a craft; his harmony echoes with a sense of passion, the kind that one harbors for years. It isn't the same music Bailey himself is so fond of, but it's brilliant, and he enjoys hearing the way it sounds with his own.

"Does everyone in Siren Cove walk around with the guitars? I must say, that is pretty nifty," Bailey comments once the song dies down, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

[fairywren]

Wren grins when the man doesn't startle or stop, delighted at having someone to play with, and the way the tune takes on a life of its own, winding and dancing. He leans into the beat of it a little bit, coming closer to pick up on his energy and play off it. It makes him miss Rian and Lex, a little painfully, but in a way that's better than pretending he doesn't.

"Actually, when I moved here, they handed me a guitar and let me know it was recommended I keep it with me at all times," Wren deadpans. "That wasn't in your welcome kit?" He suspects, at least, from the phrasing that the man's newish here too. He smiles. "To be honest, you're the first other person I've run into, especially at this hour. But luckily so, your playing is beautiful." He shoulders the guitar and holds out a hand. "I'm Wren."

[warmeryouth]

"Damn, wish I'd gotten here when they were giving out guitars," he replies with a knowing grin and a laugh. "All I got was a coupon for a free coffee from the Quill. And the coffee here can't compare to New York." Bailey finds himself greatly enjoying hanging around a fellow musician. He'd, of course, fooled around in a band with his friends back home, but never in a serious way; he enjoys the sheer fun of such an improvised moment of collaboration.

"Yeah, I don't tend to meet too many other morning people around here," Bailey admits with a sheepish grin. "And thank you. Your playing is wondrous as well." He shakes the other man's hand with a grin. "I'm Bailey. It's great to meet you, Wren."

[fairywren]

Wren raises his eyebrow. "No, it can't," he says. "Are you from New York? I lived there for --" he makes a face at dating himself. "Years. Funny us running into each other here. Whereabouts?"

He nods in thanks for the compliment. "It's a pleasure, Bailey. Thank you for humoring my harmonies there, it's been a while since I had someone to play with."

[warmeryouth]

"New York's a big place," Bailey replies with a smile and a shrug. "I grew up in the suburbs of New York City, nothing especially glamorous. Still, the best coffee and pizza I've ever had." He always misses home when he mentions it, and now is no exception. He misses his family's small apartment, his mother and his sister who still occupy it.

"Well, I'm always around to play again, if you ever want to have a jam session some time," he offers. "It's nice getting to meet fellow musicians here."

[fairywren]

"That's part of the charm, really," Wren smiles back. "Don't worry, sharing a one bedroom with two other people isn't particularly glamorous either. I lived near the Bowery for a really long time. I do miss the pizza. And fresh garlic bagels." He's going to have to take a road trip sometime. There's a lot about NYC he misses.

"It is. I'll hold you to that," Wren nods, then smirks a little mischievously. "Do you have a number, Bailey, or should I just come down to the sea at dawn and wait for you to appear?"

[warmeryouth]

"I can only imagine," he says, shaking his head. He'd had to share a room with his sister, but it had been at least marginally big enough in space for them to be able to mark off their own sides. "Hmm. Yeah, don't remind me about the bagels. The ones here are shit." He likes The Quill well enough; quaint, cute little coffee shop that is. But New York had better food.

"Your best bet is probably the sea at dawn," he chuckles, finding a scrap piece of paper and pen to write his number on. He scratches out said number before giving it to Wren. "But I do answer my phone, too."