2437/Open Mic Night

Open Mic Night
Date of Scene:	13 July 2020
Location:	That One Lower Manhattan Establishment
Synopsis:	A little of Anberlin and a little of The Struts to bring a karaoke crowd together for a night of forgetting troubles--and making new friends!
Cast of Characters:	Ariah Olivie, Siobhan Smythe

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Ariah Olivie has posed:
    It's definitely the weekend, and even with the world going the way it is, the majority of people seem to be content to either carry on with their lives and cope, or ignore it entirely. One of New York's nighttime spots has a social media presence, of course, and even puts up some fliers and signs. As a way to boost morale (and business), they're offering a special kind of open mic/karaoke night. A live band is present and anyone brave (or drunk) enough can pick from a surprisingly extensive list that the local talent can bang out.

    Any passersby will hear the loud music, singing, and after a song fades, roaring applause and cheers. It dies down as the next name is called up to the stage, drawn from the sign-up list. "Areeha? Arrya? Ariah?" several attempts at saying the written name ensure that the short, white-haired woman makes her way out of the crowd and onto the stage. There's some chuckles and glances as she has to adjust the mic stand to fit her short stature. Even moreso when she holds the stand with both hands, looking not like she's full of nervous energy, but looking like she's feeling nothing at all. Still, she stands firm, and as the band pass notes back and forth, they start in.

    Hard and fast, the sound can be heard on the street, the wail of the lead guitar taking point like a berserker charging into battle. High notes grab the attention of the conversations and closer tables, and as eyes fall on the short woman, her own shut and she yet stands still, letting the rising tide of the music swell behind her...

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    In the crowd, Siobhan is sitting there smiling lightly. She has brought her guitar just in case. She knows there's people to play and all that but she wants to be able to play her own guitar even with others. She shifts in the seat a little, feeling a little nervous about the setting. There's a lot of people who can sing here and in a way she knows she's really good but she's always worried that she's gonna mess something up. She looks when she hears the name being called up. An appropriate name for someone looking to sing.

    She turns her attention to Ariah as she makes her way up, leaning forward a little as she watches her get up there and adjust things. Tiny girl to say the least. Siobhan has never been mistaken for small in her life, so she can't imagine that. Either way, she is eager to see what she chooses. She blinks at the sound choice. Already looking over at others to see their reaction to the small girl choosing such a song.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    If the lead-in is like a siren calling attention to the lead guitarist, what follows after those first few seconds is the peal of thunder signifying that the storm has arrived. And yet, as the drummer sets to their appointed task, Ariah remains silent and still. There's a minute lifting of her toe, following the underlying beat, and one of her hands falls away to her side, fingers slack. There's glances in the crowd, whispers, gestures. Is she going to sing? Knowing looks from inviduals familiar with the opening chords earn smiles and nods as they know what's coming even with nearly twenty seconds of silence.

    Several hard riffs peak and then the music falls away, the storm breaking as the rhythm guitar provides gentle ripples, the drummer shifting to a steady beat. At once when her opening is given, Ariah's eyes open, and she leans towards the mic, angling the stand towards her. The small woman's voice, amplified by the speakers, is cool like the winter wind and crystal clear, though it would be easy to imagine her staying silent. "I'm here for you, she said, and we can stay for a while... my girlfriend's gone... we can just pretend..." There's a small chuckle here and there for those who know the song, the girl subtly altering the lyrics, but she manages to hold attention as she manages to hold notes and articulate the words in time with the music, the bassist strumming along, every instrument heard clearly. "...lips that need no introduction, now who's the greater sin? Your drab eyes seem to invite..." there's a breath, she almost whispers, "Tell me darling..."

    Her eyes rake the crowd as the guitarist holds a note, the drummer hitting steady beats, "Tell me darling... where do we begiiiiiiiiiin~?" those eyes close as she leans back, taking the stand with her, drawing in a deep breath, the rise to the chorus on the tip of her tongue and the fingers of the band itching to fully engage again.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    The music has her attention, Siobhan not having heard this one before is interested and she hmms as she hears the words. She smiles a little at the music, seeming to enjoy the beat and getting into it. Even as she hears it, she's sort of memorizing it. The sound flowing into her mind and the guitar parts all seeming simplistic in her mind. She knows the notes almost as soon as they are in place. She could play this song after hearing it only once and that's kinda what makes her unique in the music world. She seems to get into it, feeling the sound as it flows around her and the voice is pretty good, too.

    For now, she just lets teh music play, letting the girl sing and she looks at her. For such a small thing, she has a strong voice. It's fairly impressive. She shifts in her seat, her foot tapping and her fingers drumming on her soft guitar case.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    There's a hard, double-tap of notes, the guitarist and the drummer driving them home like a pair of gunshots to follow the girl's trailing note and preparatory breath. And as the waves of sound crash forward, Ariah leans towards the crowd as if she's riding along, words coming with a volume to match the band. "Was this over before... before it ever began? Your kiss. Your calls. Your crutch. Like the devil's got your hand..." It's heavy, loud, her tone bordering on accusatory even though she's seeming to stare through the crowd more than at anyone in particular, every short phrase audibly punctuated. "Was this over before, before it ever began? Your lips. Your lies. Your lust. Like the devil's in your hands..." as she trails off, standing up straight again, the band once more tones down, the swirling storm giving way again, to rippling waves of sound, picking up her voice in a more mellow fashion as before.

    "Everyone in this town... is seeing somebody else... everybody's tired of someone, our eyes wander for help..." she again lets her gaze sweep the crowd, tones far less aggressive, almost pleading, heartfelt, her cold grey eyes holding a spark to them. A look that might make some people fidget slightly if they're clinging to the lyrics too closely. "Prayers that need no answer now, 'cause I'm tired of who I am... You were my greatest mistake, I fell in love with your sin... your littlest... sin.." there's an inward curl as she pulls the mic stand close, eyes cast down and closing, but the band behind her is once again ramping up to hit the chorus a second time.

    Siobhan, the only other white-haired girl in the bar, will get a gentle tap on the shoulder. It's the event coordinator, and he gestures to the stage, his voice just loud enough to be made out as 'You're next, you ready?' as he nods to her guitar case.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    Looking at the music, Siobhan is a bit lost in the tune. She loves music and really enjoys watching others perform. She seems to really enjoy the way the girl's lips move and how she pulls the music out of herself. The band isn't too bad either to be honest. She looks over at them, watching as they play and thinks about how she hopes one day to have a band behind her, too. She isn't exactly famous or anything but maybe at some point? Either way she is a bit startled when a tap comes to her shoulder. SHe blinks and looks back to the coordinator and smiles, nodding as she pats her case and then looks forward. She's more than eager to strut her proverbial stuff.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The coordinator gives a little thumbs up and hands Siobhan a free drink ticket. It might be a reward for being brave enough to stand up in front of a half-drunk, partly depressed, high-emotion Manhattan crowd. Or just a thanks for being a part of the venue and the entertainment. It is, of course, marked for age-appropriate drinks. Everyone gets carded but everyone is welcome too. Meanwhile, Ariah is once again pouring out her heart in another run of the chorus, "Your kiss. Your calls. Your crutch." Every phrase, firmly started and stopped, body rocking forward each time as she just gets herself into it. "Your lips. Your lies. Your lust."

    It's hard to tell if she's speaking and singing from some kind of experience, pouring out some pent-up emotions, or just living in the moment. There's a hitch in the music, a slow build of a repeated chord from the lead guitar, before Ariah breaks into more loud, borderline accusatory statements directed at everybody yet nobody in particular, again staring through the crowd with bright eyes, free arm outstretched towards the front row. "Failure is your disease. You want my outline drawn. You were my greatest failure... discourse your saving song...." her tone softens as the last word is drawn out long, fingers curling together and arm pulling back to her chest. She looks down and stands up straight, the band taking off into a solid guitar solo. The girl takes this moment, reaching towards one of the amps and pulling a tall glass over. She has enough presence of mind to not sip what looks like a pale green alcoholic concoction right in front of the mic.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    Smiling at the coordinator, she takes the ticket and nods before turning her gaze back to the stage. She seems to be enjoying the music still. She allmost was annoyed at the interruption but that is what it is. She picks up her guitar case either way, and starts to move to a spot where she can more easily make her way on stage. No point in making people wait for things as people shift around. She smiles at the girl on stage eithe rway, leaning her guitar into her own hip so she can clap when the song ends.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The song is rapidly nearing its end, Ariah finishing her drink and retaking the stand after the guitar solo ends. Another run of the chorus is ... softer... a little more gentle... at least for the first two lines. It resumes the same tempo and intensity, the small girl not only possessing an impressive set of lungs but impressive stamina. "Like the devil's in your hand..." she finally releases the stand, body swaying back and forth with the final word, letting the band play her out. Those in the know of the song already start to clap and cheer, some of the audience is a bit on the speechless side, how someone so small could belt out a song that loud and fast, microphone or not. And they're even more taken aback when, after the band finishes up, says "Merci."

    Crisp, clear, and soft. She'd managed to suppress her French accent enough during the song that it really does seem like she's someone else when she returns to her... icy shell. The white-haired girl blinks owlishly at Siobhan waiting in the wings, casting a ghost of a smile at her and not at all missing the fact they share not just the same hair color, but a similar short style as well. She nods, and to the sounds of praise, steps off of the stage to let the next act take her place.

    The coordinator comes up to announce Siobhan, giving her time to set up her guitar and converse with the band on whatever needs she might have, as he looks at the list. "Wow! Let's hear it for Areeeehah!" he butchers her name, and it's likely to give Sio reason to cringe as he does the same with hers. Clearly he isn't sure how to pronounce it properly, or where it's come from, "Sigh-oh-bonn? See-oobhun?" he frowns, looking sheepish, and glances over his shoulder to cast the young woman an apologetic smile. A shout from the crowd earns laughter, "HE DOES THIS TO EVERYONE! UNLESS YOUR NAME IS BOB OR JIM!" another person adds, "Even then! Show us what you can do with that guitar!"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    She gives a loud applause to Ariah, smiling as she nods to her and then she watches her leave, seeming to have enjoyed the music quite a bit. Then the announcer comes up and she sighs. Always like this. She steps up on to stage and leans toward the mic, "It's Siobhan." And she, of course, pronounces it Shih-Von like it should be. It's very clear right off that she has an accent. Irish is likely though that short bit could have been british. She pulls out her guitar, smiling as she holds it lightly and makes sure the strap is in place. She nods to the band who start off right away. She follows with a light guitar while leaning toward the mic.

    "Don't wanna live as an untold story, rather go out in a blaze of glory. I can't hear you, I don't FEAR you!" Her words slipping in quickly to the tone of the music. "I'll live now 'cause the bad die last, dodging bullets with your broken past. I can't hear you, I don't fear you now." The music quiets a moment as she adds, "Wrapped in your regret. What a waste of blood and sweat!" And even as she makes the 'ohs' of the song, the music picks up and she begins to play the guitar harder as they head into the chorus.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah's smile lifts a little further, catching Siobhan's gaze. She doesn't go far, though. She steps off stage, a small 'hop' and takes up her glass to get a refill. She stays near the front of the crowd, too, and that shock of white hair is easy to find and follow, for sure. She also needs to stay to the front to be able to actually see past the standing crowd, thankful for the series of lower tables nearer to the stage. The coordinator's cheeks stay red as he's called out, even if he's used to this, and raises his hands to give Siobhan welcoming applause as she takes the stage. The crowd quiets, and then cheers as she introduces herself and properly prounouces her name. And then things kick off~

    Ariah finds herself a seat with a fresh drink, another greenish-looking thing, and sits to give the next act her rapt attention. She's here to make a night of it after all, and her head tilts mid-sip. She might recognize this song, or not, but there's a spark of recognition on her features as she spectates.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    A smile as she hits the chorus and she grins as she keeps the guitar perfectly as she sings.

"I wanna taste love and pain
wanna feel pride and shame
I don't wanna take my time
don't wanna waste my time."

    As she plays, she seems to almost makes out with the mic as she sings. Her whole body curls slightly into the guitar, her hands moving effortlessly over the strings even as her pick and occasionally a finger flick the strings.

"I wanna live better days
Never look back and say
Could have been me
It could have been me
Yeah!"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The chorus, familiar to a number of people, earns a lot of smiles from the crowd. Those standing up sway together, unconsciously even, just rocking like a tide with the beat. There's a lot of happy looks, a lot of wistful ones, and maybe a few introspective ones. Sad smiles. Hopeful smiles. A run of wonderful emotions as Siobhan plays her heart out. If she looks around, she'll see many people mouthing the words, too, as they sway. Those sitting are tapping feet, moving their hands, doing something as they get into it. Even Ariah has a little more of a smile on her face, cradling her glass in both hands, slowly swaying back and forth in her own seat.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"Don't wanna live as an unsung melody
I'd rather listen to the silence telling me
I can't hear you, I don't fear you
Don't wanna wake up on a Monday morning
De taught of works got my skin crawling
I can't fear you, I don't hear you now!"

    The music is flowing now, her very being going into it as she goes into another rendition of the chorus. She looks up with a smile at the crowd looking at them before she goes back to the mic. Her Irish accent, so deep and true is clear in the song. It's adding its own feelings to the music even as some of the words are pronounced just a bit differently given her words. As she finishes the second chorus, a hand briefly comes up as she calls to the crowd rather quickly

    "Sing with me! Hey!" And she goes into another rendition of the Chorus but this time urging the crowd to sing it with her.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    While maybe a couple of voices have already started to pick up, ones more bolstered by alcohol, the call to sing is taken up by the mass at large now that they're given permission. Voices pick up, a mostly-uniform cacophony of mixed voices. All genders, and all levels of inebriation lift their sound. Even outside the bar, passersby slow their gait to smile and sing along, just much, much quieter. More simply stop to see what's going on, to hear the woman sing and to join such a happy crowd.

    Even Ariah adds her voice to it, though it's impossible for anyone save perhaps Siobhan herself to actually pick it out of the sea of voices. The chilly little woman has a bigger smile on her face, not trying to hide it. It's a good night, and she's clearly feeling like she's in good company, sharing the universal equalizer of music.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
    As the song finishes, she smiles and nods to the people here before nodding to the ban. She gives out a couple of 'Thank yous!' before she smiles and puts her guitar into the case and seals it as she picks it up and gives a wave. She then steps down off the stage and looks over to the crowd again before she gives a smile to Ariah directly as she comes off the stage. She leans toward her as she walks by and nods, "You have a beautiful voice, tanks for sharin' it." She then moves off toward the bar area to get herself a drink.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah meets those bright blues with her cold greys, still smiling. She shifts her drink to one hand, and lifts it up slightly. "Merci..." she says quietly, though she's at least close enough to hear even over the crowd still making noise for Siobhan. The Irishwoman is certainly getting grins and waves as she passes through, even as the coordinator steps back on stage to announce the next performer. It's going to be a long, loud night, and nobody here would have it any other way.

    "You sounded.... magnifique..." Ariah compliments, and looks up a little higher, "...and your hair..." she can't help but grin for a moment. As Siobhan drifts away into the crowd, though, the smaller songstress watches, paying less attention to the next act and more to the most recent one.