Ambrose tugged irritably at his tie. What the hell had he been thinking; there were plenty of nice places he could take Belle that wouldn’t subject him to a tie. He’d been fidgeting with the unaccustomed accessory since he’d left the Manor and it wasn’t helping his mood. So, when the valet at the Piazza gave him just the wrong look when taking his truck Ambrose found something unnecessary to growl at the kid. Something that was only enhanced by the fact that he had to walk up a few stairs to get into the hotel restaurant, he was simply unwilling to take the ramp. That was a concession he wasn’t willing to make. Fortunately, the rest of his clothing hadn’t offended him. The white dress shirts, black jeans and charcoal jacket were fairly typical for him, it was just the red tie that was out of the ordinary.
He’d settled into a fairly good grumble when he finally made it inside. It didn’t take much effort to find Belle. While she didn’t stand out tonight, not as much as she had, she was still making unique fashion choices. Ambrose, however, had stopped trying to make sense of her outdated fashion. His odd stiff weak gait probably made him very obvious but he still sat casually beside her, fully aware she was watching for him.
“You’re early.”
Out for a Bite (attn: Ambrose)
Ysabel sat in one of the armchairs in the lobby of the Piazza, studiously ignoring everyone who passed nearby. Her keener-than-the-average-human nose hadn't yet detected the slightly spicy scent of whatever cologne he had worn the last couple of times they'd seen each other. She was reading one of the high society magazines, not particularly interested in the content, more interested in projecting an air of concentrated disinterest.
Force of habit, perhaps, or maybe just a love of the slightly dramatic, but Ysabel had arranged herself specifically as she waited for Ambrose. Her gown, a throwback to Regency England with a square-cut neckline, was made of a lovely dove-grey mull embellished with burgundy lace at the hem, just below the breasts of the empire cut waist, and around the fitted elbow-length sleeves. The hem was arranged artfully at her feet, in a swirl of soft grey that rippled just right when it settled on the carpet. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a twist on top of her head, tendrils of carefully-styled curls drifting down her back, the line of her slender neck exposed.
She wore little in the way of adornment; Ysabel loved jewelry but she didn't like to be decorated like a Christmas tree. She had on a simple gold chain around her neck, with a single ruby set in gold on a pendant, almost like a drop of blood. Tiny rubies winked on her earlobes and two slim, exquisite hairpins nestled in her curls, each one crafted in the shape of a dragonfly, gold with tiny rubies that matched the lace on her gown.
Ysabel couldn't help it; something in her was attracted to the theatrical, and she liked to make an impression. Preferably a good one. She had stopped trying to convince herself that it had nothing to do with her date. Who was she kidding? She liked Ambrose far too much to lie about it. Enough to meet him for dinner... unusual for Ysabel, who usually detested food.
Ambrose
18 years ago
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel heard him and caught his scent at the same time. It was something spicy and earthy all at once, maybe... eucalyptus? Perhaps something else as well, that she couldn't place. He sat in the armchair right next to hers and she slowly folded her magazine, tilting her head at him and smiling warmly.
"Were you expecting me to be late?" she asked, her smile lending that warmth to her words even through her teasing.
Ambrose was dressed the same as usual, a jacket and tie as concessions to the caliber of the restaurant they were at.
Setting her uninteresting magazine aside, Ysabel gave him her complete attention. It wasn't difficult; his features were more than pleasing to look at, although she thought by now she was at least a little bit biased. She didn't stand to go into the restaurant; she waited for Ambrose to invite her in with him. Ysabel was more than willing to sit and chat first if that was his wish.
"Were you expecting me to be late?" she asked, her smile lending that warmth to her words even through her teasing.
Ambrose was dressed the same as usual, a jacket and tie as concessions to the caliber of the restaurant they were at.
Setting her uninteresting magazine aside, Ysabel gave him her complete attention. It wasn't difficult; his features were more than pleasing to look at, although she thought by now she was at least a little bit biased. She didn't stand to go into the restaurant; she waited for Ambrose to invite her in with him. Ysabel was more than willing to sit and chat first if that was his wish.
Ambrose
18 years ago
Ambrose grumbled at himself for a second, he was a fool her smile and gentle tease was enough to temporarily stop the growling mood he was in. He wasn’t sixteen, he wasn’t naïveté but she was still able to do that to him and he’d only known her a short time.
Not wanting to move just yet, he checked his watch and decided they had a few minutes before they had to head off to the restaurant. In the same movement he stole her hand and kissed it; he should have kissed her properly when he walked it, but that could be the valet’s fault too.
“Some how I don’t think you’re late for much.”
It was possible Belle would schedule traffic accidents and dead car batteries to keep herself on schedule.
“I, on the other hand am routinely late.”
Late, deceased, passed on, and other wise dead and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
Not wanting to move just yet, he checked his watch and decided they had a few minutes before they had to head off to the restaurant. In the same movement he stole her hand and kissed it; he should have kissed her properly when he walked it, but that could be the valet’s fault too.
“Some how I don’t think you’re late for much.”
It was possible Belle would schedule traffic accidents and dead car batteries to keep herself on schedule.
“I, on the other hand am routinely late.”
Late, deceased, passed on, and other wise dead and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.
Ysabel
18 years ago
"Punctuality is a virtue," Ysabel said with a soft laugh, "but because I am early, you must also be early. So we're both doing well tonight."
She didn't make any attempt to pull her hand away when he touched his lips to it and she noticed with some pleasure that he didn't let it go.
"I'll bear that in mind however," she added, "so as not to take offense when you make a habit of being late for our dates."
She had a feeling Ambrose was simply exaggerating; he had yet to be late for a single date, and they'd gotten together several times now. Three? Four? Ysabel wasn't counting. The only thing she kept track of anymore was how long until their next date. An intriguing revelation; she hadn't seen anyone this much since the death of her last husband. That wasn't a topic she wanted to dwell on however, so instead she concentrated on the idea that Ambrose so far seemed happy to chat for a bit.
"Have you played much since I saw you last?" she asked. She had yet to hear him perform, something she very much wanted to do - but Ysabel wouldn't dream of it unless she were specifically invited to.
She didn't make any attempt to pull her hand away when he touched his lips to it and she noticed with some pleasure that he didn't let it go.
"I'll bear that in mind however," she added, "so as not to take offense when you make a habit of being late for our dates."
She had a feeling Ambrose was simply exaggerating; he had yet to be late for a single date, and they'd gotten together several times now. Three? Four? Ysabel wasn't counting. The only thing she kept track of anymore was how long until their next date. An intriguing revelation; she hadn't seen anyone this much since the death of her last husband. That wasn't a topic she wanted to dwell on however, so instead she concentrated on the idea that Ambrose so far seemed happy to chat for a bit.
"Have you played much since I saw you last?" she asked. She had yet to hear him perform, something she very much wanted to do - but Ysabel wouldn't dream of it unless she were specifically invited to.
Ambrose
18 years ago
Ambrose half smiled at the idea that they were both early, well he was a few minutes but that didn’t mean he liked the idea that he’d left her lurking in the lobby waiting for him. But rather than dwell on that he just toyed lightly with her fingers, glad she hadn’t withdrawn her hand after the brief kiss.
“But you can’t say I didn’t warn you, so when I turn up late you’re now obligated to forgive me.”
And of course when they got to the point where she realized just how ‘late’ he was Ambrose was sure Ysabel wouldn’t take this conversation as a warning. Maybe he should amend that, maybe it shouldn’t be a ‘when’ but an ‘if’. What was he doing flirting with and dating a human?
“Just a couple of short studio gigs nothing too interesting. I’m half working on writing something.”
The last part was admitted reluctantly. He wasn’t much of a composer yet and his lyrics left a hell of a lot to be desired, Ambrose was no poet and he knew it. But he’d gotten it in his head to try again.
“But you can’t say I didn’t warn you, so when I turn up late you’re now obligated to forgive me.”
And of course when they got to the point where she realized just how ‘late’ he was Ambrose was sure Ysabel wouldn’t take this conversation as a warning. Maybe he should amend that, maybe it shouldn’t be a ‘when’ but an ‘if’. What was he doing flirting with and dating a human?
“Just a couple of short studio gigs nothing too interesting. I’m half working on writing something.”
The last part was admitted reluctantly. He wasn’t much of a composer yet and his lyrics left a hell of a lot to be desired, Ambrose was no poet and he knew it. But he’d gotten it in his head to try again.
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel tilted her head at Ambrose. "I am forewarned about your penchant for tardiness," she said, her tone and expression still warm. "Therefore there is nothing to forgive. You are as you are. We all have our little oddnesses."
In six hundred years, if there was one thing Ysabel had learned to strive for, it was tolerance. Particularly when she found she herself could on occasion be overly critical of people who were different; a bit of a hypocrisy when one insisted on wearing clothing that went out of fashion over a hundred years ago.
Ysabel had no trouble with the fact that they had different little flaws. They were, after all, two different people. She had already experienced Ambrose's many different personality traits. He was, in her opinion, incredibly moody. She supposed that could be the result of being a modern human. With technology making new breakthroughs every day things were getting faster and faster. People were getting faster and faster as well. It only made sense to her that perhaps their moods changed faster too. Ysabel found she rather liked his unpredictablility, a fitting contrast to her own calm.
When he mentioned writing something new, Ysabel looked at him with renewed interest. It was an expression she would have responded with regardless of the company she was in, but in the back of her mind she realized that in this situation it was completely genuine. He'd seemed hesitant, almost, to bring it up... but he had, so Ysabel assumed she could question him about it.
"What kind of song? Something you can play alone, or with a group?"
He was playing with her fingers gently; she curled them under and tickled the palm of his hand lightly with her nails.
In six hundred years, if there was one thing Ysabel had learned to strive for, it was tolerance. Particularly when she found she herself could on occasion be overly critical of people who were different; a bit of a hypocrisy when one insisted on wearing clothing that went out of fashion over a hundred years ago.
Ysabel had no trouble with the fact that they had different little flaws. They were, after all, two different people. She had already experienced Ambrose's many different personality traits. He was, in her opinion, incredibly moody. She supposed that could be the result of being a modern human. With technology making new breakthroughs every day things were getting faster and faster. People were getting faster and faster as well. It only made sense to her that perhaps their moods changed faster too. Ysabel found she rather liked his unpredictablility, a fitting contrast to her own calm.
When he mentioned writing something new, Ysabel looked at him with renewed interest. It was an expression she would have responded with regardless of the company she was in, but in the back of her mind she realized that in this situation it was completely genuine. He'd seemed hesitant, almost, to bring it up... but he had, so Ysabel assumed she could question him about it.
"What kind of song? Something you can play alone, or with a group?"
He was playing with her fingers gently; she curled them under and tickled the palm of his hand lightly with her nails.
Ambrose
18 years ago
Another quick look at his watch confirmed they should head for the restaurant. And as Belle tended to inspire some manners in him when he stood, he offered her an arm. He was just as happy having her explore the palm of his hand, but at least he keep some kind of hold of her.
Cane in one hand her on the other arm and he led them to dinner.
“I suppose you’d call it a blues rock fussion and its really meant for a group, but you could play it solo but I don’t think that would sound very good.”
Checking in with the host, they were seated at a quite table for two. It was enough to give them some sense of privacy. He suspiciously watched as Ysabel was seated by the host; it was the man’s job to be polite and formal but there was no reason for him to be –too- polite. Ambrose mentally shook his head, he was getting just a little protective, wasn’t he.
“It’ll be offered to The Moochers, a group I’ve worked with for a few years. Assuming I can ever come up with lyrics.”
((OOC... permission to move Belle))
Cane in one hand her on the other arm and he led them to dinner.
“I suppose you’d call it a blues rock fussion and its really meant for a group, but you could play it solo but I don’t think that would sound very good.”
Checking in with the host, they were seated at a quite table for two. It was enough to give them some sense of privacy. He suspiciously watched as Ysabel was seated by the host; it was the man’s job to be polite and formal but there was no reason for him to be –too- polite. Ambrose mentally shook his head, he was getting just a little protective, wasn’t he.
“It’ll be offered to The Moochers, a group I’ve worked with for a few years. Assuming I can ever come up with lyrics.”
((OOC... permission to move Belle))
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel stood with Ambrose, placing her hand on his right arm when he offered it. Old habits died hard and she found herself employing little bits of telekinesis here and there, making sure her gown flowed and swirled appropriately around her feet, adding a bit of spring to the curled tendrils of hair that tickled her back. They were old tricks she'd used ages ago, the little odds and ends that had given her the slightest advantage over other women, human women, and although she realized they weren't necessary in this situation, it was a desire to look as attractive and appealing to her date as possible that led her to use them now. In a way, it was very much like the application of makeup.
When Ambrose explained about his song, she furrowed her brow slightly, unconsciously. She didn't have any idea what blues rock fusion would or should sound like. It sounded complicated to her, but it was Ambrose's creation and that made it as worthy of consideration as a piece made by any other artist.
"Might I hear it, when it's finished, do you think?"
The host led them through the dimly-lit restaurant and seated them at a small, intimate table. He held her chair for her, and she studiously ignored him as he did so, as if her chairs slid themselves out for her on a regular basis. It wouldn't have been at all proper to acknowledge him, in her opinion, and she didn't miss the fact that Ambrose was nearly shooting daggers at the man.
"The Moochers? If you don't mind my asking, what does the name mean? I've never heard that word before."
When Ambrose explained about his song, she furrowed her brow slightly, unconsciously. She didn't have any idea what blues rock fusion would or should sound like. It sounded complicated to her, but it was Ambrose's creation and that made it as worthy of consideration as a piece made by any other artist.
"Might I hear it, when it's finished, do you think?"
The host led them through the dimly-lit restaurant and seated them at a small, intimate table. He held her chair for her, and she studiously ignored him as he did so, as if her chairs slid themselves out for her on a regular basis. It wouldn't have been at all proper to acknowledge him, in her opinion, and she didn't miss the fact that Ambrose was nearly shooting daggers at the man.
"The Moochers? If you don't mind my asking, what does the name mean? I've never heard that word before."
Ambrose
18 years ago
Ambrose was slightly perplexed that she’d be interested. There were a few reasons he preformed, and was beginning to write, under a pseudonym and anonymity was high on that list. No one knew who Isaac Ray was. The name meant nothing to any one but the studio, the bands, and the most hard core of fans. On the other hand, he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to her request.
“Assuming I ever finish it to my liking I think something might be arranged. But I’ll warn you it’s only my second attempt and bound to be… not so good.”
She’d never heard the word ‘moocher’ before? Ambrose frowned in concentration, it seemed like simple slang to him, very basic. Of course, maybe they didn’t use it in England. He’d never been and so wouldn’t know.
“Moocher is basically a free loader, someone who hangs around to get the freebies. These guys took their name from an old Cab Calloway song called Minnie the Moocher.”
“Assuming I ever finish it to my liking I think something might be arranged. But I’ll warn you it’s only my second attempt and bound to be… not so good.”
She’d never heard the word ‘moocher’ before? Ambrose frowned in concentration, it seemed like simple slang to him, very basic. Of course, maybe they didn’t use it in England. He’d never been and so wouldn’t know.
“Moocher is basically a free loader, someone who hangs around to get the freebies. These guys took their name from an old Cab Calloway song called Minnie the Moocher.”
Ysabel
18 years ago
"I'm sure it'll be better than anything I could possibly do," Ysabel said, smile unwavering. She didn't have anywhere near the ability required to create and compose music. It didn't surprise her that Ambrose did though; he seemed to be of a more flexible school of thought than Ysabel was.
When he explained the meaning of the word 'Moocher' to her, Ysabel laughed softly. "All right, I understand," she said, "but it doesn't seem very complimentary, does it?"
About then the waiter showed up to take their drink orders, turning to Ysabel first. Odering a glass of red wine, she glanced down at her menu. She normally wasn't a big eater by any means, but restaurants nowadays had all kinds of alternatives for light eaters, vegetarians, and the like. She perused the menu while Ambrose ordered, looking for the lighter fare like soups and salads, or fruit if she could find it.
When he explained the meaning of the word 'Moocher' to her, Ysabel laughed softly. "All right, I understand," she said, "but it doesn't seem very complimentary, does it?"
About then the waiter showed up to take their drink orders, turning to Ysabel first. Odering a glass of red wine, she glanced down at her menu. She normally wasn't a big eater by any means, but restaurants nowadays had all kinds of alternatives for light eaters, vegetarians, and the like. She perused the menu while Ambrose ordered, looking for the lighter fare like soups and salads, or fruit if she could find it.
Ambrose
18 years ago
“Its not, but it’s a classic song and the name’s been holding them in good stead.”
Even with the uneducated masses who’d never heard of Cab Calloway.
When the server showed up he quickly ordered a whiskey. He had a short debate with himself about skipping dinner all together or maybe just ordering something small. He’d only asked her to dinner because he’d been at a loss as to what to do with a human, but Ambrose didn’t often eat himself.
Finally he decided on a porterhouse steak and what ever it came with, he didn’t look closely and would probably only eat the meat and maybe not all of it. Although that might strike her as suspicious so he’d just have to subject himself to a full meal for a change, but if the steak was good he didn’t see the problem, it would be a nice change of pace and he did still like red meat.
“Did you find something you’d like.”
He’d found something he liked, across the table for him.
Even with the uneducated masses who’d never heard of Cab Calloway.
When the server showed up he quickly ordered a whiskey. He had a short debate with himself about skipping dinner all together or maybe just ordering something small. He’d only asked her to dinner because he’d been at a loss as to what to do with a human, but Ambrose didn’t often eat himself.
Finally he decided on a porterhouse steak and what ever it came with, he didn’t look closely and would probably only eat the meat and maybe not all of it. Although that might strike her as suspicious so he’d just have to subject himself to a full meal for a change, but if the steak was good he didn’t see the problem, it would be a nice change of pace and he did still like red meat.
“Did you find something you’d like.”
He’d found something he liked, across the table for him.
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel still found both the word and the description slightly funny. "For some reason it brings to mind the image of a puppy, something very homely perhaps, good at begging. Like a basset hound, with big soulful eyes. I don't suppose that's the image they're trying to project, however, so I'll do my best to get away from it."
She found something edible on the menu; since her turning, Ysabel had eaten very little in the way of meat. Red meats, though appealing, just felt too heavy. Ordering a steak would have been a waste, since she couldn't eat anywhere near all of it and she probably wouldn't even enjoy it enough to be worth the expenditure.
"I think just a salad, perhaps, and the vegetable soup."
It suited her well enough if Ambrose thought she was a vegetarian; not that it mattered to her. The idea of biting him was still floating around in her head, but Ysabel did not make a habit of biting people she knew unless they were bonded familiars. That made her think of the possibility of taking Ambrose as her familiar, but that didn't appeal much either. From time to time she'd made her husband into her familiar, for different reasons, but always for a particular reason. There was no reason to do so with Ambrose, except for the enjoyment of feeding from him.
No, she would much rather let her relationship with this human, if that was what it was turning into, continue along its natural progression.
As the object of her speculation ordered a steak, rare, she noted that at least he showed promising taste, should he ever be enlightened to the mysteries of vampire kind.
She found something edible on the menu; since her turning, Ysabel had eaten very little in the way of meat. Red meats, though appealing, just felt too heavy. Ordering a steak would have been a waste, since she couldn't eat anywhere near all of it and she probably wouldn't even enjoy it enough to be worth the expenditure.
"I think just a salad, perhaps, and the vegetable soup."
It suited her well enough if Ambrose thought she was a vegetarian; not that it mattered to her. The idea of biting him was still floating around in her head, but Ysabel did not make a habit of biting people she knew unless they were bonded familiars. That made her think of the possibility of taking Ambrose as her familiar, but that didn't appeal much either. From time to time she'd made her husband into her familiar, for different reasons, but always for a particular reason. There was no reason to do so with Ambrose, except for the enjoyment of feeding from him.
No, she would much rather let her relationship with this human, if that was what it was turning into, continue along its natural progression.
As the object of her speculation ordered a steak, rare, she noted that at least he showed promising taste, should he ever be enlightened to the mysteries of vampire kind.
Ambrose
18 years ago
Her description of a moocher made him laugh. Thinking about some of the members of The Moochers it really wasn’t far off, one of the guys in particular did have a basset hound look to him, which made the comment all the more funny.
“You’ll have to hear them some time and then you can make your own decision. They play in Nachton once in a while, or I can take you to New York to hear them.”
They had one song they played on a regular basis that was his creation, and that he was mostly proud of he’d like to have her reaction to that. Even if they didn’t play that he’d like to take her to see the band. Who was he kidding he just wanted to see her again.
It didn’t surprise him or even strike him as unusual that she seemed to be a light eater. But then again Ambrose had hardly made a recent study of human eating habits.
There was that thought again, human. His relationships with humans had long ago been limited to professional and food. And the food relationships… well they didn’t always go as well as he would have liked, there were problems if one wasn’t quite as careful as one should be when one was very hungry, or just enthusiastic. What would happen the fist time he bit her? Ambrose didn’t know and that was slightly concerning.
“You’ll have to hear them some time and then you can make your own decision. They play in Nachton once in a while, or I can take you to New York to hear them.”
They had one song they played on a regular basis that was his creation, and that he was mostly proud of he’d like to have her reaction to that. Even if they didn’t play that he’d like to take her to see the band. Who was he kidding he just wanted to see her again.
It didn’t surprise him or even strike him as unusual that she seemed to be a light eater. But then again Ambrose had hardly made a recent study of human eating habits.
There was that thought again, human. His relationships with humans had long ago been limited to professional and food. And the food relationships… well they didn’t always go as well as he would have liked, there were problems if one wasn’t quite as careful as one should be when one was very hungry, or just enthusiastic. What would happen the fist time he bit her? Ambrose didn’t know and that was slightly concerning.
Ysabel
18 years ago
Their drinks were quickly delivered, and Ysabel sipped at her wine as Ambrose responded to her comment about theband's name. Fortunately he found it funny rather than offensive. She supposed she should have been a bit more circumspect, but she felt comfortable with Ambrose. Her comfort level directly impacted the amount of formality she addressed people with, and although the only person she was truly herself with was Dayle, she had thus far been more open with Ambrose than with most of the people she called friends.
"I would love to go with you sometime to hear them," she said.
Although they didn't lack for conversational topics, she found that as usual, playing the hostess came naturally to her and she was used to being the one to lead the conversation. Ysabel realized she didn't really know too much about Ambrose other than his music, however, and it would be impolite to not express an interest in his life beyond the present.
"Did you go to music school, or college?" Ysabel almost found the question funny; she herself had never attended college although she did wonder about it, and she'd considered night courses in one or two fields of interest. "Although you hardly look old enough to have graduated very long ago."
In truth, Ambrose appeared to be somewhat older than she; Ysabel knew her features were still slightly girlish instead of being truly womanly. If she had to guess, she would have said Ambrose was possibly around the almost-thirty age. She wondered briefly if she looked like the eighteen she'd been when turned, but she didn't think so. Years had granted her with an air of maturity that usually led most people to believe she was at least twenty.
"I would love to go with you sometime to hear them," she said.
Although they didn't lack for conversational topics, she found that as usual, playing the hostess came naturally to her and she was used to being the one to lead the conversation. Ysabel realized she didn't really know too much about Ambrose other than his music, however, and it would be impolite to not express an interest in his life beyond the present.
"Did you go to music school, or college?" Ysabel almost found the question funny; she herself had never attended college although she did wonder about it, and she'd considered night courses in one or two fields of interest. "Although you hardly look old enough to have graduated very long ago."
In truth, Ambrose appeared to be somewhat older than she; Ysabel knew her features were still slightly girlish instead of being truly womanly. If she had to guess, she would have said Ambrose was possibly around the almost-thirty age. She wondered briefly if she looked like the eighteen she'd been when turned, but she didn't think so. Years had granted her with an air of maturity that usually led most people to believe she was at least twenty.
Ambrose
18 years ago
The whiskey wasn’t a cheap knock off and that was a good thing.
He was pleased she seemed to want to go with him to hear The Moochers, it would be a decent date. He’d have to take to Katrina about their club schedule and see where they were playing next, and when.
“It’s a date then.”
He was already looking forward to it.
Her next question was a little trickier. He’d not had any formal training but most people these days did. Ambrose debated lying and saying he had been to college when in truth his formal education was more along the lines of eighth grade. Ambrose had never considered going back to school and had just learned what he needed to get buy.
“Actually I’m more or less self taught, some books, some lessons, some hanging around clubs and with other musicians. That’s probably why I haven’t written much before now, never was trained for it.”
He took another sip of his whisky and half shrugged, almost apologetically. It felt as if he was admitting to being… less. But he wasn’t at all ashamed by his history or lack of education, some how he didn’t think it would matter much to Belle either.
He was pleased she seemed to want to go with him to hear The Moochers, it would be a decent date. He’d have to take to Katrina about their club schedule and see where they were playing next, and when.
“It’s a date then.”
He was already looking forward to it.
Her next question was a little trickier. He’d not had any formal training but most people these days did. Ambrose debated lying and saying he had been to college when in truth his formal education was more along the lines of eighth grade. Ambrose had never considered going back to school and had just learned what he needed to get buy.
“Actually I’m more or less self taught, some books, some lessons, some hanging around clubs and with other musicians. That’s probably why I haven’t written much before now, never was trained for it.”
He took another sip of his whisky and half shrugged, almost apologetically. It felt as if he was admitting to being… less. But he wasn’t at all ashamed by his history or lack of education, some how he didn’t think it would matter much to Belle either.
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel's eye grew slightly wider at the idea that Ambrose had taught himself how to play.
"That's remarkable," she said. "I had years and years" (and years and years, she added in her head) "of lessons in order to be proficient in my piano playing. The harp took me even longer. I still have trouble being creative, or really getting into it. I enjoy playing, but I need music in front of me to do so. I'm not very good at simply sitting down and producing music."
She really did think it was fascinating, that Ambrose was able to create his own music. Perhaps composers who had formal training had the edge when it came to the actual mechanics of writing, but the way she saw it, talent was talent; you couldn't learn it. You either had it or you didn't, and given that the one song Ambrose had written had been a hit, however small, it was obvious that talent was not what he lacked.
"The ability to create music is really what matters," she said, summarizing her thoughts to Ambrose. "You can't learn in school how to be imaginative or creative, and that to me is the most difficult part."
"That's remarkable," she said. "I had years and years" (and years and years, she added in her head) "of lessons in order to be proficient in my piano playing. The harp took me even longer. I still have trouble being creative, or really getting into it. I enjoy playing, but I need music in front of me to do so. I'm not very good at simply sitting down and producing music."
She really did think it was fascinating, that Ambrose was able to create his own music. Perhaps composers who had formal training had the edge when it came to the actual mechanics of writing, but the way she saw it, talent was talent; you couldn't learn it. You either had it or you didn't, and given that the one song Ambrose had written had been a hit, however small, it was obvious that talent was not what he lacked.
"The ability to create music is really what matters," she said, summarizing her thoughts to Ambrose. "You can't learn in school how to be imaginative or creative, and that to me is the most difficult part."
Ambrose
18 years ago
With all that practice though, she had to be a very technically proficient player and they certainly had their place. Ambrose was personally aware of some sloppy portions of his playing. It was nothing blatantly obvious, just little things he thought he could do better.
“I’m not sure its remarkable, so much as after I lost my leg I had a lot of time on my hands.”
He couldn’t even remember how it happened. Damaris must have shoved a guitar at him at some point while they were in San Francisco. She enjoyed playing piano and hated him skulking about doing nothing and he didn’t read so she must have given him an instrument. That seemed about right. He did remember picking at the instrument constantly for months, years, developing his skill and sound.
Sipping at his whiskey, to hide a small slightly embarrassed smile. He hadn’t meant to brag (not that he was above that).
“Everyone had a certain amount of creativity, maybe not in terms of music but its there. I got a little lucky with my music, but my lyrics leave a lot to be desired yet.”
“I’m not sure its remarkable, so much as after I lost my leg I had a lot of time on my hands.”
He couldn’t even remember how it happened. Damaris must have shoved a guitar at him at some point while they were in San Francisco. She enjoyed playing piano and hated him skulking about doing nothing and he didn’t read so she must have given him an instrument. That seemed about right. He did remember picking at the instrument constantly for months, years, developing his skill and sound.
Sipping at his whiskey, to hide a small slightly embarrassed smile. He hadn’t meant to brag (not that he was above that).
“Everyone had a certain amount of creativity, maybe not in terms of music but its there. I got a little lucky with my music, but my lyrics leave a lot to be desired yet.”
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel nodded to Ambrose, the most diplomatic gesture she could think of aside from disagreeing completely. She still found it remarkable, and his modesty on the topic was also commendable.
"It is ironic, isn't it, that sometimes it takes a loss to find something else entirely? If you hadn't lost your leg, then do you think you would ever have discovered this other gift? You could just as well have taken up painting or writing to pass the time. It seems you made a good choice in music."
She hadn't lived as long as she had without learning that particular lesson; perhaps that had helped to contribute to her tendency toward being patient.
"I think sometimes things must happen for a reason," Ysabel said thoughtfully. Then, because she didn't want to bring down the mood, she smiled and added, "although I've yet to figure out how this move to America will alter things for me and my sister."
Certainly she'd been meeting some interesting people so far, and that in and of itself tended to bring change into one's life. The man sitting across from her was proof of that already, considering she had been single when she moved here and was now beginning to wonder if she wasn't anymore.
"It is ironic, isn't it, that sometimes it takes a loss to find something else entirely? If you hadn't lost your leg, then do you think you would ever have discovered this other gift? You could just as well have taken up painting or writing to pass the time. It seems you made a good choice in music."
She hadn't lived as long as she had without learning that particular lesson; perhaps that had helped to contribute to her tendency toward being patient.
"I think sometimes things must happen for a reason," Ysabel said thoughtfully. Then, because she didn't want to bring down the mood, she smiled and added, "although I've yet to figure out how this move to America will alter things for me and my sister."
Certainly she'd been meeting some interesting people so far, and that in and of itself tended to bring change into one's life. The man sitting across from her was proof of that already, considering she had been single when she moved here and was now beginning to wonder if she wasn't anymore.
Ambrose
18 years ago
“Between the two I think I’d rather have my leg back.”
Ambrose didn’t often express bitterness over the loss of his limb, but he had yet to come to completely come to terms with it. He wasn’t in denial, it was clearly gone and not coming back; however, in the stages of grief, he hadn’t gotten past anger. Quite a remarkable feat, holding a grudge for a hundred plus years, but hold it he did.
The idea of painting or some other more sedate, less active hobby made him laugh.
“Sooner or later I might have come to the music, given enough time that is. But let’s hope I’m not a gifted painter or writer because I’ll remain undiscovered.”
He felt her other suggestions lacked the immediate gratification of abusing a guitar or drums.
He half raised an eyebrow at the next comment. Hadn’t figured out how…
“Haven’t you?”
While Ambrose couldn’t say how things were affecting her sister he had a pretty good idea about Belle, at least he hoped he did. Because he was having the same idea.
Ambrose didn’t often express bitterness over the loss of his limb, but he had yet to come to completely come to terms with it. He wasn’t in denial, it was clearly gone and not coming back; however, in the stages of grief, he hadn’t gotten past anger. Quite a remarkable feat, holding a grudge for a hundred plus years, but hold it he did.
The idea of painting or some other more sedate, less active hobby made him laugh.
“Sooner or later I might have come to the music, given enough time that is. But let’s hope I’m not a gifted painter or writer because I’ll remain undiscovered.”
He felt her other suggestions lacked the immediate gratification of abusing a guitar or drums.
He half raised an eyebrow at the next comment. Hadn’t figured out how…
“Haven’t you?”
While Ambrose couldn’t say how things were affecting her sister he had a pretty good idea about Belle, at least he hoped he did. Because he was having the same idea.
Ysabel
18 years ago
Ysabel couldn't say much regarding Ambrose's preference for his leg over his music; dwelling on it was, as she was sure he must realize, futile.
"Fate doesn't often deal us a fair hand. I would say you've done an excellent job at playing yours." It was the best concession she could make. Certainly she agreed that losing your leg was a tragic affair, but Ambrose was alive and by all appearances, doing well for himself in spite of it. It wasn't that Ysabel was unsympathetic; instead, she felt rather respectful of him for it. It was a moot point, but she still wasn't sure how she would have handled it if it had happened to her.
Like her, he seemed to want to keep the mood light, so she allowed herself a soft laugh when he offered his opinion on painting and writing. "I can't see you at such sedate hobbies," she agreed. "Even without any frame of reference I think your music suits you."
She offered him a small grin. "In their enthusiasm to have me reared in as ladylike a fashion as possible, my parents encouraged me to do both as well. I can write well enough, and I do know calligraphy, but my paintings often sparked a great deal of debate. Not the philosophical sort an aspiring artist might hope for, but rather the sort that ran along the lines of wondering if the greyish-blue splotch in the middle was a whale, an elephant, or a stop sign."
Their shared laughter was short-lived, however, as Ysabel made the mistake of looking directly at Ambrose when he voiced those two very small words. As he raised an eyebrow at her, his lips still curved up in a soft smile from laughing, she had to fight off a blush.
Catching her breath softly, she raised an eyebrow back at him. "Well, it's true I think some things are fated," she said slowly, "but it would be presumptuous of me to assume I know why."
She tilted her head at him, as if looking for something in his light brown eyes. "And equally presumptuous of me to assume I am something I'm not."
She didn't think she needed to spell it out any more; Ambrose had not asked her nor had they come to any arrangement as to whether this... thing... was a relationship. Ysabel had very little experience in these matters. Courtship and marriage, yes. Modern dating, being a 'girlfriend' as opposed to a fiancee or wife, none at all. She looked to him to provide any clues in that regard.
((ooc: Ambrose's reaction by permission))
"Fate doesn't often deal us a fair hand. I would say you've done an excellent job at playing yours." It was the best concession she could make. Certainly she agreed that losing your leg was a tragic affair, but Ambrose was alive and by all appearances, doing well for himself in spite of it. It wasn't that Ysabel was unsympathetic; instead, she felt rather respectful of him for it. It was a moot point, but she still wasn't sure how she would have handled it if it had happened to her.
Like her, he seemed to want to keep the mood light, so she allowed herself a soft laugh when he offered his opinion on painting and writing. "I can't see you at such sedate hobbies," she agreed. "Even without any frame of reference I think your music suits you."
She offered him a small grin. "In their enthusiasm to have me reared in as ladylike a fashion as possible, my parents encouraged me to do both as well. I can write well enough, and I do know calligraphy, but my paintings often sparked a great deal of debate. Not the philosophical sort an aspiring artist might hope for, but rather the sort that ran along the lines of wondering if the greyish-blue splotch in the middle was a whale, an elephant, or a stop sign."
Their shared laughter was short-lived, however, as Ysabel made the mistake of looking directly at Ambrose when he voiced those two very small words. As he raised an eyebrow at her, his lips still curved up in a soft smile from laughing, she had to fight off a blush.
Catching her breath softly, she raised an eyebrow back at him. "Well, it's true I think some things are fated," she said slowly, "but it would be presumptuous of me to assume I know why."
She tilted her head at him, as if looking for something in his light brown eyes. "And equally presumptuous of me to assume I am something I'm not."
She didn't think she needed to spell it out any more; Ambrose had not asked her nor had they come to any arrangement as to whether this... thing... was a relationship. Ysabel had very little experience in these matters. Courtship and marriage, yes. Modern dating, being a 'girlfriend' as opposed to a fiancee or wife, none at all. She looked to him to provide any clues in that regard.
((ooc: Ambrose's reaction by permission))