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

[brigid_moran]

No matter how she tried to let herself sleep in, the first rays of morning came in through her window to warm her and called her to the day. She began the way she always did, stepping out to her forest and digging her toes into the dirt and fallen leaves, connecting with the earth. It felt different this morning, more, like there was something else pulling at her.

Waving that off as lack of sleep talking, Brigid dressed for the day and walked along the beach towards the shop. She was a few blocks away when she heard it, the guitar and the voice, and walked in that direction. She didn't call attention to herself, she just sat, closed her eyes, and listened.

[fairywren]

It perhaps doesn't count as being up early when you haven't gone to sleep yet. Old habits die hard, and besides, Wren's always loved the golden, fleeting hours just before and after sunset and sunrise best. If that makes him a little nocturnal sometimes, so be it. Working out problems or getting invested in new interests at three in the morning doesn't bother anyone.

He's already fed and walked the dog in the first touches of dawn, and restless, he heads out to see his new home wake up, with his acoustic slung over his shoulder just in case. The waves are beautiful, and a little dangerous, defiant: equally soothing and deadly, and he likes that.

But it's the sound of music on the air that calls him, and he finds himself drawn in as he catches sight of the young man watching the sea and singing. The song is like and unlike the music he's been thinking of: not the same kind, but something linked into this place and the sea. He's talented and his voice is strong, but more than that Wren can tell he loves it. He pauses, behind him, just enjoying being caught up by music, by someone else's impromptu playing for one of the few times since he's left New York.

On an impulse, he swings his guitar into his hands and very quietly, with a bit of a playful eyebrow raise, works in a harmony line to the young man's melody. To Wren, it's meant as a better greeting than interrupting him.

[callmeemily]

Raleigh's been getting up early for years; before the bakery it'd been for classes, before classes it'd been for work. Since she'd been in Siren Cove, it's 3 or 4 AM almost every day, but now that she's working on building her own bakery instead of working at the Seaside, she tries not to get started until it's a little later, letting herself start after dawn.

That leaves her some downtime, and usually she goes to sit on the boardwalk with a cup of coffee from the Quill, but today she walks along the boardwalk and she just hears somebody singing, and it sort of takes her breath away. It's the music and the guitar, but she just sort of stands there, not realising her coffee's going to go cold. She's wrapped in an old sweatshirt over her shorts - there's just enough chill in the air that she's realised that she can't just do a tanktop anymore, but not so much she has to do real pants as well. Normally, she'd leave him be, she'd keep walking but keep an ear out for the music, but she just... it's so beautiful, she's just kind of stuck.