Stalking Musicians [Daichi]

Holy shit I'd kill for a drink right now... what a pain in the ass...

The sun painted the sky in warm, inferno hues as the day came closer to a close, its dulcet warmth reflecting a soft sheen off a certain musician's wild raven lockes. After the drudgery of an afternoon of hard labor and menial small-talk Ritsuko would find herself worn thin, desperate for a respite from the world and its demands. Her weary feet would carry her forward through the buzzing crowd, slowly weaving a path past the excited chatter and eagerness to be free from work for one more day just to begin the dull cycle anew when the sun next rose. And Ritz was numb to it all. Closed off, shut down, emotionally exhausted, a limp cigarette hung from her mouth as her dark eyes picked at the asphalt below her, her ears filled with painful, tortured screeching to drown out the mundane through her headphones and leave her to her own personal universe.

Blocking out Disappointment through Music:

The mobs of people avoided her much like she avoided them, a social bubble forming around her at arms length as she trudged down the street. To anyone else it would seem lonely, but to Ritz, it was paradise. It was a place she could breathe, somewhere her own to escape to even when surrounded by others. Her guitar bobbed weakly inside the case in her hand, simultaneously the lightest and heaviest thing she could lug with her. She'd been carrying that burden her entire life now. It was her curse... and her freedom. She owed her life to that music and it had taken it without mercy. It begged the question... could you really be lost if you had nowhere to be? If freedom held a price, were you truly ever free?

...

Shit, that's pretty good. I need to write that down.

She'd have a while before she returned to her hotel, the next bus was a bit of a wait. She could always walk but her feet were killing her. She'd had enough of doing things she didn't wanna do for the day. Her stomach protested against her powerfully, rippling hunger pangs through her tiny frame. She didn't get anything to eat before work and now it was late. She hadn't eaten anything outside of those cookies that morning with Zavie, and that was trash. Not like she ate anything better, though. Food would come later that night where she could play for it or set up some sort of system to screw over a running tab. Maybe win some scratch toward drinks or chili cheese fries in a game of pool. In the meantime she was fah-reaking starving. There was a MorBurger on the way, the one she normally went to because it was close. Maybe she'd grab a chicken sandwich from the dollar menu to tide her over.

As Ritsuko would walk she would shift her guitar from swinging free in her hand to perched on her shoulder. She couldn't really find a comfortable position for it, even though she was normally used to carrying with her. Everywhere she went, her guitar came right along too. She was beginning to suspect it was giving her back problems from hiking it around everywhere. Not to mention how much of a pain it was taking it certain places. Airports were straight out. Getting into the movies was similarly frustrating. God help her if she went to jail. But the alternative... the alternative was a little too gruesome to consider. She'd been down that road before. It was a dead end... and a painful one at that.

It had been a boring, uneventful trek to the local fast food joint as Ritz spent the journey in her own head, listening to angry tunes. She was mostly concerned with zoning out above all else. The crowd, the people, her anxiety... it didn't matter in that moment. The moment was the only thing that existed, and her alone in inside her own self-created void. The abyss was comforting in its own way. Isolation always was. No one could take advantage of her there. No responsibilities, no dreams to be shattered, no judgement, no hate. Simply being. Some would call it "zen". Ritz wasn't that much of a hippie. The red and yellow sign was a small sign of comfort, her stomach growling in anticipation. Luckily enough the line was short for being so late in the afternoon. Ritsuko didn't even remove her headphones, choosing to peel one off her ears so that she could order.

"...I'll take a chicken sandwich... and a sweet tea, thanks."

She would return outside, having left her half-burning cigarette on one of the benches to secure her spot there. She took a comforting drag as she dug into her junk food and sipped her sugary drink. It was a miracle she didn't gain any weight from all the trash she put into her body, but the musician figured she had a more active metabolism than most. Combined with not eating some days. Not for lack of trying, mind. The sandwich was filling yet had a disgusting, filmy aftertaste to it like most fried foods did. Not like she cared. Food was food, it was better than the crap she was served in the facility. At least her tea was refreshing, if not making her want more of it. Sugar was just another one of her many vices, but probably not the one to kill her first.

She'd almost finished the whole sweet tea in one go. It was amazing how much moisture she sweat out in the back of the stifling alterations shop. Not a lot of airflow, no windows, surrounded by fabric. It was like a fucking sauna in there. Feeling somewhat satisfied, Ritsuko collapsed back onto the bench. She didn't feel like moving... there wasn't much point in it. She was positively BORED and slightly anxious for the upcoming night. She'd promised to Aoide that she would spend some time playing out in public. Personally she'd rather drink all night and not need to have to concern herself with any self-imposed obligations. She was tempted to spend all night on that bench... but it wasn't realistic. A few minutes was more than reasonable, however. It's not like she had anything better to do. It was nice to at least set her guitar down for a second and enjoy a cigarette without having to be on her feet. It was seriously starting to make her shoulders sore.

Ritsuko frowned as she played with the cigarette between her lips, waving it back and forth. Something people underestimated about living paycheck-to-paycheck was how fucking little there was to fill the time. Every day was the same. Go to work, get out, play guitar, drink and play pool until the sun came up, rinse, repeat until bitter. She had things to do, but at the same time... not a thing at all. Nothing she wanted to do anyhow, and that was what killed her inside. She didn't have anything to look forward to. Time slowed to a crawl when you dreaded every passing moment of every uneventful day. She'd came to Endymion to find answers, to seek peace, to make sure that those who'd wronged her were as dead as she thought they were. And through all of that she found... monotony. Living was expensive, and had taken all of her time. Dreams and goals were a fucking joke. Aspirations were for the more fortunate, those who could spend the time chasing them with dreamcatchers unabated. Ritsuko wasn't nearly as lucky. A little thing called Life kept getting in her way. If she could, she'd throw it all away to make sure those assholes were in the ground. But it wasn't up to her. Big surprise there. It never was up to her.

The tortured musician bent forward, running a calloused hand along her weary face. Her messy raven hair shaded her exhausted expression, licking the ground with split ends. She was sick and tired of everything ending up the same. Nothing ever went the way she wanted it too or imagined in her head. You could only keep losing for so long, so many times in a row without it wearing down on you like sandpaper.

...

...y'see, this is why it sucks to have nothin' to do. Cause you can't help but think of shit like this.

Lazily, Ritsuko reached over to set her guitar in her lap. It was the best way to burn time, after all. Phone games were stupid and she didn't feel like writing anything. Might as well pluck at strings. The alcoholic musician wasn't very up to belting out an emotionally charged sonnet. She just wanted something to distract herself for a little while and give herself validation to chill outside the MorBurger instead of getting off her ass, going home, and taking a shower so she could be just as bored at home. Drawing her thumb and forefinger over the fretboard she would flex her fingers on something technically marvelous, but meaningless. It sounded impressive enough, but it didn't have any soul or emotion or creativity to it. It did hit a variety of ascending chords though. Great warmup material.

Screwing around, bored:

Ritsuko threw in a few rising chords and flourishes to keep herself entertained. Playing a lead set without any variation wasn't much better than dragging a flailing cat across the strings in her opinion. Bass and backup were pretty repetitive, but they had spirit and a job to do. That is, keeping the time to the music and making everyone else look good. Her heart just wasn't in it. Aoide could sense it too, and made no attempt to speak to the troubled musician. She wouldn't have wanted her to anyway. Always being spoken to wore on after a while. Sitting in her empty head was a nice change of pace. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a sighing breath. She didn't even feel like drinking that much tonight. Maybe she'd grab a bottle at the gas station, sit in her room watching bad movies and getting drunk, and go to bed early.

Ritsuko opened her eyes to expel the ash from her cigarette as she held a note. If she wanted to there were always more notes to hold to do it but she thought it'd fuck with the flow of harmony. She'd been doing this too long to make chump errors and trip over a chord, and it was a really personal failure if she did. Even if she wasn't being serious. When she moved to tap the ash from the end of her coffin nail, something was amiss. This strange, formally dressed chick in an old-fashioned hat was staring at her hungrily with piercing, crimson eyes. The musician bristled at her eager face. Fuckin' really!? It was like moths to a fuckin' flame, every damn time! What she'd give to be ignored, to be passed over like another face in the crowd for five damn minutes! Christ!

She shifted in her seat away from the strange newcomer, giving her an icy glare and scowl before turning a cold shoulder to her and shifting farther away in her seat. Ritsuko didn't even drop a pickup as she did so. She didn't feel like speaking to the odd one and didn't feel the need to. Honestly, she couldn't understand why everyone was so adamant to invade her personal space. If she were a little less stubborn, she would've gotten up and left. But this was her seat. She was here first. And leaving would be admitting defeat, now wouldn't it?

At first, Ritsuko was inclined to take the formally dressed chick's comment aggressively... but she had time to think about it and read into it. It was more passive than that. Quite frankly it was a relief, she'd had enough people badgering her about her music as of late. It drew crowds, people wanted to listen. She felt a lot better about it when she was on stage or with a band because she was walled off from everyone else. No one cared about the bassist and when the show was over she could go do what she does and no one would bother her. Sometimes there would be specific people who would prevent that from happening in the first place. Playing in public was a lot riskier that way. She needed to practice and she desired to play, but people would do what people did. Which was piss her off, of course. They got too invested in her sound. "It spoke to them" or they felt like hanging around because they had a right to hear her play. As if she was playing for anyone to listen to it, playing for the crowd. Some artists did that and they were all bleeding heart "change the world" types of sellouts. They produced their own music so that other people could enjoy it. Ritz was expressing herself. It was, like, commenting on someone's form at the gym. They don't wanna hear that shit, they want to put their work in because that's what they want, not involve the whole damn gym in their workout.

Ritsuko hadn't seen the strange one turn her attention to the computer in her hand, but she felt the heavy weight of her eyes leave her either way. She gave a weary sigh, her shoulders losing the tenseness they had taken up to ward off intruders in her personal space. Of anyone she expected to pester her, it'd be this newcomer. What was her deal, anyway? She dressed like she came out of the 20's or something. Ah, well. It wasn't like it was any of her business anyway. People could dress how they wanted, she didn't care one way or another. It didn't really ma-

...

What. Was. That!?

The musician's countenance changed from neutral and uncaring to furious in an instance. She skipped a chord. WHY... did she skip a chord...? This was un-fucking-acceptable! She was better than that! Ritz could play with her eyes closed while holding her breath, upside down with a finger broken on each hand while being pelted with stones, why the fuck was she skipping chords!? Ritz let out a small growl, attempting to pick up from where she left off. But the harmony wasn't there anymore. She tried to make it fit but she was off-beat and off-tune.

"Fucking hell...!"

The frustrated delinquent took an irritated drag off her cigarette and went to tune her guitar. And when she began to play... she dropped one of the opening dozen chords. Growling louder through gritted teeth, Ritsuko throttled the neck of her guitar, wishing more than anything in the world that she could send it straight through the bench she was sitting on. This was fucking BULLSHIT. She didn't make mistakes! Fucking up a chord in real life could get her and everyone around her killed, just like five years ago! Ritz began to tremble in barely-contained anger before coldly tossing her guitar to the ground. It'd be fine. Aoide could withstand gunfire, she's done it before. Her fingers would tense and flex as she leaned back in her bench and take to sucking on her tea in a miniature tantrum.

"I'm fine!!" Ritsuko nearly bellowed at the strange young lady, her inner emotions violently bursting forth toward the first person to direct her any attention. Almost involuntarily she had moved her body slightly closer to her, as if she had planned on striking the classically-dressed woman or lunging at her. Her teeth were grit, her breathing heavy. She'd nearly bitten off the end of her cigarette in her moment of blinding fury. It was a shock she kept it at the edge of her lips at all. It took a number of breaths for her to gain control of herself and realize exactly how she was acting. Like a thug. Ritsuko was above that, to be so easily upset with little to no prompt. Still taking ragged breaths, teeth bared slightly, she took a long, calming drag of her cigarette and turned her body away from the other woman at the bench just as she'd done before.

"I-I'm fine. I'm, just... fucking pissed off, don't worry about it..." she would seethe. Ritsuko moved her body to dispel her frustration. Shaking her crossed foot upon her knee, balling and unballing her fists, shivering slightly in rage. She controlled emotions, not the other way around! People could feel joy or grief or despair or lose control as she played! If she could get the fuckin' notes right! Ritz had to hold her breath at that furious thought in order to let it go. She was just... tired. That was it. Her fingers were overworked from the alterations shop is all. ...and that led down a road of destructive thinking on its own. Shimaki Cleaners. Whatta shit show! She'd report them for employee abuse if she had another job lined up, but Life had fucked her on that one too. It was all... just... incredibly frustrating! It was one thing after another, all in a row! No time to rest before being fisted by the universe just one more time, and then another, and then another! But it was okay. It was aaaaaaaall okay. Ritz wasn't anything if not resilient. She'd get a grip, be back in charge, pick herself up by her bootstraps and keep going. She didn't have a choice. And she hated losing, if that wasn't already apparent.

The furious delinquent squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples with both hands. Ritz was done. She didn't have the energy to be angry and didn't have the patience to deal with today anymore.
"Stop. Talking. Geez..." she would sigh. She didn't sound as mad as she had before, her fury replaced with tired frustration directed towards no one. Ritsuko leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and taking one last cathartic drag from the remainder of her cigarette before callously flicking it to the ground. She was normally more conscientious with her butts than that but at the moment, she couldn't give any less of a fuck. The delinquent was feeling petty and the smallest form of vindication was truly refreshing to her.
"*Haa...* You really need to learn to keep your nose to yourself. Stay or leave, I don't care. That's your problem." While it might've been true that Ritsuko didn't want the classically-dressed lass around, that was the case for everyone else. It wasn't personal. Either way she wouldn't have wanted her to leave because she couldn't control her temper. Whether she saw a need to explain herself, noticed an opportunity to vent, or felt as if she should externalize her thoughts to better control them, Ritsuko began to rant to this unfortunate individual.

"It's just... I never screw this up. I don't! I'm too good and I've been playing too damn long to be flubbing notes like this! I don't drop chords, I don't skip notes, and I sure as hell don't fuck up the harmony this bad!" Ritsuko sounded exasperated as she spoke, gesturing at the air in desperate motions. Her gaze never fell on the oddly-dressed young lady, making their "conversation" appear more like a monologue. She gave a pained smirk to no one and fell back into her seat once more, spreading her arms over the bench.
"Tch, I can't afford to be screwing shit up today, I gotta play tonight."

Ritsuko scratched at the top of the bench with her violet nails in irritation. That was right, she resolved to at least make an attempt to find a gig in the Concert Hall at night. It was really the only way she could play there. Nobody screened for backup guitarists and she didn't influence the song, why should they? It was always nice to play in public, to show her skills off once in a while in a setting where they won't be able to hassle her during and after the performance. But she didn't have any ID to submit, so she couldn't do it alone. Her music wouldn't be approved anyway. Ritsuko reached down to her discarded guitar, grasping it by the neck. The apoxy wasn't even scratched on it. She knew Aoide could take a little abuse from time to time. Frankly, she didn't know if she could be broken at all. Smashing it into concrete didn't seem to do it, gunfire didn't seem to do it, it was a mystery what would.

"Whatever. Fuck it."

In any case, Ritsuko still needed to play. And that meant she still needed to practice. Whether she was upset or not wouldn't change that. Her guitar hummed slightly as she settled it into her lap. Almost... ominously. Ritz could feel the frustration radiating through it as much as she had herself just now.