Jackson Square

[The Phantom of Paris]

OOC: So sorry for the long wait! BIC:

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

The heat was almost bearable in the shade, and Cassie tried to let herself relax. It was nearly impossible. She felt like her baby sister was a magnet for attention, a veritable scarlett letter that drew all eyes towards her. Of course the reality was quite different--having a baby with her probably didn't attract any more attention than she would have gotten normally--but Cassie didn't care. She sat awkwardly perched on the bench, alternating between glancing with worried eyes around the square for her family and looking down at the baby, making sure the thing wasn't going to start crying at any given moment.

"I know it's not your fault," she whispered to the dark head of hair. Chloe shifted slightly at the noise but didn't fuss, her eyes closing once again. "I mean, you're just a baby. It's their fault for having you and Ilaria's fault for leaving you with me and Shelby's fault for being freakishly clingy and my fault for not liking you yet. It's not your fault at all. And I'm sorry for that. But I just don't know how this is going to work here." She sighed. Look at me. I'm talking to an infant. She doesn't even know who her parents are yet--poor thing probably thinks Shelby is her mom or something. And I'm talking to her like she can actually understand. Fantastic.

Cassie snapped her mouth shut.

When she looked up again, a slender blonde girl was making her way across the square towards Cassie. She had that air about her that the extremely popular girls always did, that confidence that seemed impossible to shake, the "I look good and I know it" attitude. This alone would have been enough to make Cassie lose interest immediately, given the fact that she was out of high school now and considered herself finally free from the hierarchy that went along with it. It was the fact that this pretty, confident girl was also toting a baby that made Cassie curious.

That, and the fact that the girl was making a beeline straight for Cassie.

The baby looked older than Chloe, in that contented, half-asleep phase that small children look so adorable in. Cassie looked down at the baby she carried as the girl approached. "Hello there."

Cassie offered up a small smile. "Hi."

"Would you mind if I sit down?"

"Oh, no, go ahead." Cassie gazed at the girl as discreetly as she could, trying to place her. She seemed familiar enough...

"How old?"

"Hmm?" Cassie asked, confusion lighting up her features. Then she remembered Chloe. "Oh!" she cried, realization dawning as she glanced down at the now-sleeping infant. She smiled sheepishly. "Only a week. This is Chloe. Who's this little darling?" she asked, gesturing to the baby girl in the carrier.

She held out a hand to the pretty blonde girl. "I know it's sort of weird, but I feel like maybe I've seen you before. I'm Cassie. Cassie Wright."

[mystmoonstruck]

OOC: Easy will be meeting Cassie. BIC:

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy disembarked the cab about a block from the site he had been told was Jackson Square, having asked the driver for places where musicians played for tips. He hadn't relaxed till they were blocks away from his new home (not that it felt like that). His heart was still racing from stealthily stealing downstairs, through the house, past Rafe Chancery, who was so engrossed with his companion bottle of whisky that the youth was certain he was lost to the world. Still, he had this mental image of the big man charging after him, reclaiming him and dragging him back into the depths of this latest place he was to be confined much of the time. He was relieved to find the weather unwintry enough that he didn't have to be burdened down with too much clothing though it was still chilly enough that he couldn't wear his usual streetclothes. He had settled for something close: his black Tee that read, in neon colors, La nuit, tous les chats sont gris, which he had been informed meant At night all cats are crazy, which also was the title of some French movie he had never seen; snug, well-worn jeans that were in better condition than those he preferred wearing; a perhaps too-light denim jacket; and, on his feet, very scuffed and aged short boots whose black leather confessed the miles walked. If he got too cold... Well, it would remind him of his days and nights on the streets, perhaps toughen him up more. His life alone had coddled him until he scarcely recognized himself anymore. There had been too much safety, even when he had strayed to the dark side of the city.

Now, this place did not resemble a dark side unless it turned into a different sort of territory at night, which was highly possible. But, by then, he likely would be back at that house he had to call home for an unknown length of time.

Once at his destination, he had only to study his surroundings, picking out a spot where he could play without disturbing anyone else. With ease, he soon had the violin case open, positioned just close enough to keep an eye on it. Positioning the instrument, he allowed his memory to trail through what music he had learned, gauging the public as he did so, wondering if he could provide the unexpected, having gotten a sense of the usual offerings as he had searched for his own spot to perform. He began with something non-traditional, Lejla, a song he had picked up from another street musician, entwining it with other melodies, as he tended to do, until it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. Within only a few bars, he had given in to his usual impulse to move, gliding steps learned from a long-ago friend, Iah Raksha, movements influenced by Egyptian and gypsy alike, along with others that Iah had learned during his travels. Eyes half-shut as the music lulled him, he was falling under the spell of images in his mind, of a boy very like himself yet in a setting he had never experienced. If he closed his eyes, he would be there, be that other youth, but he resisted, remaining in this new reality where he must try to find some sort of place for himself.

OOC: Some examples of music Easy prefers to play:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=erwKr3ToIYQ
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGS3z9OgtrU&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=09SbzjAERbM
Of course, the violin arrangements are more complex, but those performances aren't available at YouTube. BIC:

[The Phantom of Paris]

OOC: So, my picky Cassie sent me on a quest to find a veeeeeeeeery specific outfit that Karen Gillan wore in a promo of the new season of Doctor Who, saying that she wanted to be wearing that in this post. It took forever, and by the time I found it, she'd seen another outfit that she liked better. My characters are very controlling sometimes. So, Cassie is wearing this outfit, minus the Doctor, of course. BIC:

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

It was turning out to be a much milder winter than the one last year had been, and Cassie walked along the square with ehr hands tucked into the pocket of her light blue jacket, aimlessly wandering. Lilith was working today and Shelby was at school, and Cassie had a nice two-hour window of free time before her next class. She had considered getting a jump-start on some homework, or heading down to see how her father and the rest of the family was doing, but even so long after the fire, the thought of venturing back there made her stomach clench a little painfully. Even going to the stepcousins' house across the street at Christmastime, where her sister, father, stepmother, and baby Chloe were living temporarily until the extensive damage to their house could be repaired, had been a bit of a painful ordeal for Cassie. She had had a stressful enough day as it was with classes, and didn't feel like being burdened with more right now.

So, instead of working her way through her half-finished art history paper or her math assignment, Cassie had driven herself to the square, mingling among the small crowd of window-shoppers and wanderers like herself. She thought back to her explosive meeting with Jessica several months ago and shook her head as she walked on, a chilly breeze drifting through and pushing her hair back away from her face. Her cell phone beeped at her, telling her she had a text, but she ignored it as another sound reached her ears.

Music.

Now, music was not a rare thing to come across in Jackson Square. It was a favorite place among street performers, particularly in the summer months, but early January was still a bit cold for the average musician to be playing outdoors hoping to earn a couple bucks from the passers-by. The type of music was intriguing to Cassie as well--it wasn't a cover of a well-known pop song, like some street performers chose to play, and it didn't seem like an original composition either. No, this music sounded mysterious and exotic and like something that would be playing in an Arabian marketplace or in some historical movie. Well, that's something new... Intrigued and almost entranced by the unknown tunes, Cassie followed the sounds to the source of the music.

A small crowd had formed around the musician, but Cassie managed to get to the front with little effort. She gazed at the musician, a rugged-looking boy with long black hair who seemed to be in almost as much of a trance by his own music as the people around him. His eyes were half-closed, almost dreamlike as the music flowed from the violin on his shoulder almost effortlessly. He seemed entirely absorbed by his music, not distracted by the murmurs of the others in the square or preoccupied with worry over whether or not some onlooker would choose to drop some money in his open violin case, even though several people had already done just that. No, it seemed to Cassie that this mysterious fiddler didn't even seem to care if anyone was watching him--instead, he just wanted to play. And if I know music, that means he really cares. Not about fame or money or getting noticed or even having fun. He cares about the music itself. It's not just a job or a hobby for him. It's more than that.

Although this fiddler had caught the attention of much of the crowd in the square, the majority didn't stay long, and none seemed to be as interested in him as Cassie. Her mind overflowed with unanswered questions--Who he was, what his story was, why this music seemed to touch him so deeply--and what scared her slightly was the fact that she wasn't exactly sure where all this curiosity was coming from. Wasn't she supposed to be shyer than this? Not as shy as Shelby, no, but...why was she so captivated by this stranger and his violin?

She stayed long after the rest of the crowd had almost completely dispersed, not caring what time it was or whether or not she would miss her class. She began to clap for the mystery performer, slowly at first, almost too overwhelmed to speak. "That was amazing," she finally managed to choke out.

[mystmoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy had become accustomed to ignoring his audience in favor of immersing himself in his music. He had watched other musicians, especially on the streets, how they often played to the people, as if courting them or at least teasing money from them. He supposed he could do that, but he feared that, if he made eye contact, he would become unnerved and disgrace himself in front of those who had stopped to admire (he hoped) his skill. Thus, he was unaware of the gathering that had grown then thinned until nearly everyone was gone. At the moment his medley wound down, he heard applause from someone, with a smattering of other hands clapping as others joined in.

"That was amazing," he heard someone say, his tawny gaze sweeping his surroundings till settling on a girl, his eyes widening at the sight of coppery red hair and fair skin. For a moment, he could see only Allegra Zahn there, and he closed his eyes tightly, frowning slightly as he tried to get his bearings before opening his eyes again. No. She wasn't Allegra, but the resemblance was strong. However, Allegra always seemed older than she was and would not have worn the ensemble that adorned his admirer, giving her a somewhat coltish look. Cute, was his impression. Cute and very pretty.

In a delayed response, he nodded his head in her direction, smiling crookedly, an expression those close to him were familiar with. "Thank you," he said to her, his gaze sweeping the others who had applauded before returning to her once more. "I'd ask for requests, but I don't usually hear anything I know," he admitted, the offkilter grin quite rueful as he bowed his head slightly, peering at her from under dark lashes. "Amazing?" he wondered then shrugged, beginning to bow a few notes, as if searching for the next tune. Actually, he had no playlist and generally left the selection up to his skittering thoughts. Now that there was no music as a sort of barrier, he found himself nervous in the relative silence. "Thanks," he repeated, feeling very foolish for some reason. Then, he found it, sweeping into Secret Garden, a wistful, melancholy melody that seemed to tug at his heart whenever he played it. It wasn't as complex as others he usually played, and Azer (as he had dubbed the ancient violin) seemed to sob, its rich voice catching at times as if too overcome to continue. His own throat tightened at times, and tears burned his eyes as he found himself caught up in it, replaying the bittersweet sounds several times before segueing into the equally beautiful but more delicate Nocturne. They were a sharp break from what had gone before and touched merely the surface of what he had learned in countless hours of solitary practice and from instruction by one Anton Arkady, the teacher who had sworn that he would make this blank slate of a boy into an exceptional musician. Throughout, he had managed to resist dancing, merely swaying slightly as he played, wondering if the girl would stay, curious if she wished to speak to him, knowing that it was best for her if they never met, as he still considered himself poisonous to the lives of others.

Then, he did stop, and he lowered bow and violin, training his golden-brown eyes on the girl in blue and smiling sweetly, a rather rare curve to his expressive lips.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

Her hands almost started clapping of their own accord, seemingly before Cassie had decided whether to applaud for the lone fiddler or not. For a moment, she was the only one, and she felt a rush of embarassment as the sound carried throughout the mostly silent crowd. Thankfully, though, the rest of those gathered slowly joined in, prompting a tiny smile to cross Cassie's face. "That was amazing," she told the fiddler earnestly.

He opened his eyes finally, his golden-brown gaze scanning the crowd before settling on Cassie. Their eyes met for only an instant before he snapped his shut once again, as if the very sight of her caused him pain. Cassie furrowed her brow in confusion. Had she done something wrong? Did he not like receiving compliments when he performed? Was she ruining his concentration or something? Seriously, what is your story?

A second later, though, his eyes opened again, looking slightly more at ease this time. He nodded at her, an almost impish smile coming over his face. Cassie returned it shyly, still confused. Thank you," he said simply, looking over at the crowd again. "I'd ask for requests, but I don't usually hear anything I know." Cassie shook her head, not knowing exactly how to respond to that, as the musician continued. "Amazing?" he asked, accompanying his words with a small shrug. His tone sounded unsure, as if he didn't know whether Cassie had meant the compliment or if she was just trying to be nice. By this time, much of the remaining crowd had begun to disperse, and Cassie gave a sincere nod at his question as she watched him shoulder his violin again.

This time, the music that filled the square was as tranquil as it was heartbreaking, a shocking contrast to the vibrant sounds of only a few minutes before. Some of the crowd continued walking away, going back to whatever they had been doing before the music had grabbed their attention; others stopped suddenly, compelled to listen for just a few more minutes. Cassie watched in fascination as a change came over the boy with the violin. He was still as entranced by his own music as ever, but everything seemed different--his posture, his movements, the way he held the bow and violin all seemed to reflect in some way the somber music that he now played. Cassie stared at him, still wondering what exactly it was about him that held her attention so much...and then, as he segued into another equally sad song, she realized it.

She wanted to draw him.

Cassie's eyes lit up, and she immediately reached into her bag for her sketchbook, grabbing a pencil and turning to a blank page so quickly she almost ripped it. She couldn't help it. She had gotten her artist's muse back after so long, but for the longest time she hadn't been inspired to draw people. She had tried numerous times on so many subject she'd lost count--Shelby, her eyes lighting up as she saw that she'd gotten a text from her boyfriend; her stepmother looking out the window at the remains of what had once been their house, after the fire; even Lilith, curled up on the couch with a book. All of them had started out fine, but halfway through all of them she'd lost interest, or muse, or just the drive to finish them. So for months she had stuck to landscapes, dreading ever being assigned a portrait project in one of her art classes, hoping that one day her inspiration would come back...and now, apparently, it had.

Maybe this one would turn out like all the other drawings--unfinished, dissatisfied, imperfect. But at the moment, Cassie wanted to try.

She quickly found it was too difficult to try to do the sketch standing up, so she sat down as carefully as she could in her dress-and-tights ensemble, sitting cross-legged on the cold pavement and setting the sketchbook on her lap. It was harder to draw him from this angle, but she barely cared as she began sketching a rough outline, looking back up to reference him every few seconds. She quickly gave up on trying to draw all of him and settled for simply a close-up of his face and a bit of the violin, finishing the outline in record time for her. She was about to start on his eyes--something she knew would be a challenge from the expression in them right now--when the music ended.

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he smiled at her again, a much more friendly grin than before. She applauded for him again, with more enthusiasm this time. "You're really very good, you know," she said, sincerity evident in her voice. "I wasn't just saying that. I've never heard anyone play like that before. And the way you just seemed to connect with the music...well, I had to see if I could draw it." She gestured to her sketchbook. "I hope you don't mind."

[mystmoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Easy finished playing, he had been taken offguard by finding the girl, applauding again, seated on the ground. What surprised him even further was that she held a sketchbook, which meant that once more he was serving as a model for someone, wondering if Lilith ever looked at her sketches of him and remembered what they had meant to each other.

Then she'd remember what a mess you made of things, he jabbed at himself, how you made her cry, how you made her 'n' Iah miserable. He tried to shake off those thoughts even as he smiled at his persistent audience of one, noting that some had left, replaced by other passersby who now, as his music had ended, had decided to move on. Thus, his complete attention was on the redhead in blue.

"You're really very good, you know," she stated, and he heard no hint of teasing there. But, he merely repeated his slight shrug along with a faint smile, as if to say, Maybe. Yes, he knew that he was good~enough for the Opera Populaire orchestra and enough to make money on the streets, whether solo or with other musicians and even singers. "I wasn't just saying that. I've never heard anyone play like that before. And the way you just seemed to connect with the music...well, I had to see if I could draw it." His amber gaze followed her gesture toward the sketchbook. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" He gave his shaggy head a shake. "Nah. I'm sorta used to it. I knew this girl~she drew me some. Got me interested in drawing, too." Setting down the violin and bow in the case, he walked over to her, squatting next to her, balancing up on the balls of his feet, a movement made possible by the many dance classes under his belt. He'd already had a sort of feline grace. The lessons had given him that much more confidence in how he moved though he still could get thrown when in one-on-one conversation. "You said~um~you never heard anyone play like that before. Guess I don't understand what you mean. I'm still sort of new to music. Mr. Arkady~my teacher~says that's why he could..." He stopped himself in mid-sentence, giving his head another shake and smiling ruefully. "Sorry. Sometimes I start talkin'." As he tried to smooth over his awkward start, he studied what she had done, focusing on his face, curious to see how someone else saw him. "People are kinda hard," he acknowledged, "especially if you're drawin' someone right there where they can look at what you're doin'." He chuckled, a soft movement of his throat. "Like I'm doin' here, right? You want me to go back to what I was doin'," he wondered, "or sit still for you to finish? I know lots more songs," he said in an almost caressing, decidedly flirtatious way since it was his nature. "I~um~you reminded me of somebody," he admitted. "That's why I acted sort of~I dunno~weird maybe. Not that I'm not weird," he rushed to add, finishing with laughter that was rather like velvety purring. "By the way, I'm Cat. I mean, most people call me that. Must be the eyes," he suggested, knowing that was far from the reason he earned the nickname but should seem true enough to this girl. All the while he was speaking to her, he was peeved that he had let that part of him slip out that craved friendship, knowing that this could lead the way to temptation. If he told her of the danger of being around him...

Who says she will be, Cat?! Maybe she'll get enough of you here and now then move on, just a guy she met one day and drew a picture of. No big deal!

[The Phantom of Paris]

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

When the music faded and the boy met her eyes again, Cassie watched as the expression on his face changed to one of surprise and maybe even a bit of alarm. Fantastic. He's weirded out by the fact that you went all creepy loner artist on him and decided to whip up a sketch. That's just great...damage control time. Go. "You're really very good, you know," she said to him, trying to make him feel more comfortable before she explained herself. "I wasn't just saying that. I've never heard anyone play like that before. And the way you just seemed to connect with the music...well, I had to see if I could draw it. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" he asked her, shaking his head. "Nah. I'm sorta used to it. I knew this girl~she drew me some. Got me interested in drawing, too."[/b]

Cassie gave a tiny smile at that, adding a few more lines of pencil to her drawing. "I guess it's contagious."

The fiddler set down his instrument and made his way over to Cassie, crouching down next to her to get a better look at the drawing. He was a little too close for comfort, especially for a first meeting, but Cassie made no effort to move away--instead, she focused on her sketch. "You said~um~you never heard anyone play like that before. Guess I don't understand what you mean. I'm still sort of new to music. Mr. Arkady~my teacher~says that's why he could..."

Cassie looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise. "You're still new to music? Seriously? I never would have guessed that. You're way too good."

The fiddler looked embarrassed now, and Cassie mentally kicked herself for gushing over his talents so much. "Sorry. Sometimes I start talkin'."

"It's fine," Cassie said gently. He leaned in closer to her, his eyes skimming over the sketch on Cassie's lap. "People are kinda hard, especially if you're drawin' someone right there where they can look at what you're doin'." He gave a small chuckle at that. "Like I'm doin' here, right? You want me to go back to what I was doin', or sit still for you to finish? I know lots more songs." His tone was smooth and velvety, almost like he was hitting on her, but Cassie didn't care at the moment.

"You can keep playing if you want," she said, turning to make eye contact with him again. "I mean, if you don't want to, don't feel like you have to just for me. I was going to put the violin in here too, but I really don't care. I'm just glad that I finally have some real inspiration to draw people for a change. I haven't drawn a real person in forever. I used to all the time, but..." she trailed off, looking down at her lap. "I really don't anymore. So this is kind of a big deal for me."

"I~um~you reminded me of somebody," he admitted. "That's why I acted sort of~I dunno~weird maybe. Not that I'm not weird...By the way, I'm Cat. I mean, most people call me that. Must be the eyes."

Cassie laughed a little at that. "Well, they do look sort of like a cat's eyes," she admitted, staring into them for just a second. "Like liquid gold or something. Cat it is, then. Nice to meet you. I'm Cassie."

[mystmoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Easy admitted being somewhat of a newbie, he hadn't expected such a look of surprise though he understood that many had studied much longer without achieving the success he had. Anton Arkady had been a demanding and obviously excellent teacher, and he had brought a willingness to learn, many hours to fill, and a remarkable memory for melodies though he still battled with reading the parade of notes. Arkady was not always pleased with his pupil's ability to "play by ear" and had been angered when he had learned that something mastered was from listening to the piece. This always confused Easy since, to him, being able to play it was the point. Who cared how he learned?

"You're still new to music?" He could hear the amazement. "Seriously? I never would have guessed that. You're way too good."

What could he do but blush and bow his head? He wasn't feigning bashfulness. He still found it difficult to accept compliments, uncertain where the boundaries were for seeming conceited or vain. So, he fell into kittenish ways just then, pleased by the compliment, basking in approval, knowing it was foolish to long for such things. He had apologized for his tendency to ramble though he had managed to stop much of what he meant to say from spilling out.

"It's fine," she assured him, and he shyly met her gaze again as he took a closer look at the drawing, which really was quite flattering. He recalled Lilith urging him to have their caricatures done and how he had balked at such a thing. Hadn't he been made fun of enough in his life? Flattery was much nicer. Perhaps it was because she was being so kind and complimentary that he was slipping in his resolve to not flirt or become close to someone else in any way. He had no one except Chance and Jamil here, and he had become accustomed to having familiar people around him. That wasn't a good excuse, he realized, knowing that he would never recapture the walled-up youth he once had been, the one who could act as if nothing mattered except himself. So, he could sit for her or continue with his music, ensnaring more people and, he hoped, more money. Either choice would be all right he supposed.

"You can keep playing if you want," she said, pausing to look directly at him, causing him once again to draw comparisons between her and the girl who had once said she loved him, sacrificing her innocence in a failed attempt to keep him from his bargain. Perhaps his gaze was too intense because she seemed a bit on edge now, suggesting that she might not be accustomed to being so close to boys. Or, maybe it was simply because he was an unknown quantity: a street musician, possibly a wanderer, perhaps someone who did this often: approaching a girl who seemed even slightly interested in him. "I mean, if you don't want to, don't feel like you have to just for me. I was going to put the violin in here too, but I really don't care. I'm just glad that I finally have some real inspiration to draw people for a change." A flicker of pleasure rippled through him at the thought that he could be someone's muse. "I haven't drawn a real person in forever. I used to all the time, but..." He missed her eyes, the blue so much like Allegra's. "I really don't anymore. So this is kind of a big deal for me."

Again came the warmth of flattery, and he admitted, "I~um~you reminded me of somebody. That's why I acted sort of~I dunno~weird maybe. Not that I'm not weird...By the way, I'm Cat. I mean, most people call me that. Must be the eyes." He hadn't been able to speak Allegra's name, but it might happen yet~two girls with the same bright hair, blue eyes and peaches-and-cream complexion. This was not the first time he had encountered such resemblance, but perhaps there was something more.

He smiled at what seemed to him her delight over his name or perhaps because of his very little joke. "Well, they do look sort of like a cat's eyes," she agreed, adding, "Like liquid gold or something. Cat it is, then. Nice to meet you. I'm Cassie."

"Cassie," he repeated then smiled quite sweetly. "I like it. I don't think I've ever met a Cassie before. Nice to meet you, too, Cassie. You're the first person I've gotten to talk to since gettin' here. Hadn't had the chance to get out before. Guess I got out of practice escapin'." Chuckling at his in-joke, he stood up, stretched tightened-up muscles, then said, "I just might play some more music, and I'll try not to move around too much, OK?" Once more he returned to his violin, doing a quick check before launching into a combination of two songs that seemed to suit each other: A Time for Us from Romeo and Juliet and Speak Softly Love from The Godfather. He had been surprised to learn that they were written by the same person, a man named Nino Rota, so perhaps they really belonged together. He had learned that both were crowd favorites and, sure enough, were drawing people his way, with the accompanying shower of coins, along with a few bills, probably from those who counted one or the other or even both among their favorite songs. A perk was that he was less inclined to move around too much, so he did try to stay as still as possible, feeling that glow of being picked out by someone as she had. Somehow, today was easing the pain of his forced relocation, having been reclaimed by someone he had hoped to avoid for however long between the man's trips to Paris. He certainly had not been ready to relinquish the freedom though it truly had been only an illusion if he was honest with himself.

When he had finished the set and thanked those who spoke to him, he squatted so that he could gather the money into a pouch and pack away the instrument. On his feet, he placed the strap attached to the case over a shoulder so that the violin rested at an angle across his back, leaving his hands free. The strap, decorated with a Celtic cat pattern of black and white, had been one of the brighter ideas he had come up with since he had feared dropping the case with its amazingly valuable contents or even accidentally abandoning it somewhere. Perhaps it was what was left over of his street instincts, but he had felt the urgent need to find someplace else to play or simply to sit and kill some time. Staying in one place might make it possible for the "Mehmet Men", as Iah had dubbed Jamil's employees, to track him down. He was certain that they would be assigned to do exactly that whenever Rafe Chancery and his partner realized the youth once more had "slipped the leash", as Easy liked to refer to his escapes.

Rejoining Cassie, he sat down on the pavement next to her, hands behind him to support him, clearly feeling the chill and wondering how the girl was managing, especially the way she was dressed. "Aren't you cold?" he wondered. "Maybe I should treat you to~like~cocoa or coffee for havin' to suffer a frozen body just to draw me." The crooked grin was back again. "I mean... Well... I'm gonna look for another spot. I never stay anywhere for very long," he tried to explain. "It's an old habit, keepin' on the move." He shrugged, knowing he was being too familiar with someone he had just met and was getting too close to territory that might invite questions he wasn't comfortable answering. Someone long ago, a kind lady named Lydia, had teased him about his tendency to "spill his guts", and he had tried very hard to change that about himself. So, he moved as if to leave, knowing that he should leave quickly, without looking back, act as if he had no further need for a casual acquaintance, a pretty girl with whom he had spoken briefly.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

"I haven't drawn a real person in forever," she admitted, confiding the secret of her artist's block in someone for the first time since she'd freaked out over the internet and told Yukito. It wasn't something she could regularly talk about with people--Shelby wouldn't understand at all, Erin would be bubbly and optimistic, the rest of her family was pretty much useless, and she still didn't feel comfortable enough around her college friends to divulge such personal insecurities to them. Even Lilith, who alone of all her friends might possibly understand, seemed off-limits to talk to about it. It's not the artist's block itself. It's the reasons for it...that's what I can't talk about. Shelby and the rest would understand that, I guess...but not really. So I just haven't told people even though it's been killing me. "I used to all the time, but...I really don't anymore. So this is kind of a big deal for me."

"I~um~you reminded me of somebody," the boy said, changing the subject rather abruptly. Not that Cassie really minded--in her mind, anything was okay as long as she didn't have to share the whole sob story of how she had lost her artist's muse to a total stranger. Although something tells me that maybe you might understand...you seem to feel similarly about your music. But I just don't know...

"That's why I acted sort of~I dunno~weird maybe. Not that I'm not weird..." Cassie only gave a vague nod at this, focusing on her drawing even as curiosity threatened to eat her alive. He had said that she reminded her of someone...how? From the way he spoke of it and the tormented look that had come over his face when he'd first laid eyes on her, she doubted the memories associated with this person were pleasant. But what had prompted them? Was it the sketching? The enthusiasm for his music? Or just the way she looked? It's a pretty common appearance, when you think about it...by redhead standards, anyway. I'm the classic ultimate ginger--red hair, blue eyes, pale skin that burns like a lobster in the sun. So that must be it...right? Or is it something else that I'm not getting?

"By the way, I'm Cat. I mean, most people call me that. Must be the eyes."

Cassie let out a laugh. "Well, they do look sort of like a cat's eyes. Like liquid gold or something. Cat it is, then. Nice to meet you. I'm Cassie."

The fiddler--Cat--smiled softly at her. "Cassie...I like it. I don't think I've ever met a Cassie before. Nice to meet you, too, Cassie. You're the first person I've gotten to talk to since gettin' here. Hadn't had the chance to get out before. Guess I got out of practice escapin'."

She laughed again. "You're new around here, then? Well, welcome to New Orleans, I guess." He moved to stand up beside her, and Cassie craned her neck upwards to keep eye contact. "I just might play some more music, and I'll try not to move around too much, OK?" Cassie grinned up at him, nodding. "Sounds fine to me."

The music became a sort of pleasant background noise as she worked, almost all of her attention now being focused on her sketch. She looked up to reference him every few seconds before adding more details--the glimmer of light in his eyes here, more shadowing there. She thought she recognized one of the pieces of music as being from a movie, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it too much. A small smile came over Cassie's face as she drew, and for just a moment, she caught a glimpse of the artist that she used to be--before the divorce, before Mike's attack, before her mother had started drinking.

It's like going back in time.

She looked up when the music stopped, seeing him busily putting the violin away and collecting the money given to him by his audience. She didn't mind--the sketch was more or less finished anyway, and she had to admit she liked the results. As always, she had difficulty believing it really did the subject justice, but after so long without inspiration, she wasn't complaining.

"Aren't you cold?" said a voice close to her ear, and Cassie looked up to see Cat sitting next to her again. Suddenly, she did feel rather cold, having forgotten all about the weather while she was so absorbed in her work. She chuckled a bit, nodding. "Now that you mention it, yeah. I guess I didn't really notice it until now."

"Maybe I should treat you to~like~cocoa or coffee for havin' to suffer a frozen body just to draw me.I mean... Well... I'm gonna look for another spot. I never stay anywhere for very long...It's an old habit, keepin' on the move."

At that, Cassie put the finishing touches on the sketch, signing her name in loopy cursive at the bottom of the page. "Well, something hot to drink does sound good," she admitted. "But don't feel like you have to pay for me or anything...really, I'm okay. But I'll walk with you to find a new spot, if you like. I've lived here all my life, so I know this place really well...oh, here," she added, handing him the sketchbook so he could take a look at what had held her attention for so long. "I thought you might want to see the finished product."

[mystmoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

Easy was acutely aware that he could be viewed as a pickup artist at work, but he truly didn't intend to be one. He shouldn't be seeking friendship, knowing how poisonous his presence could be, but here he was suggesting they spend more time together, never knowing where that would take them. Maybe this would be different. They could just talk awhile. That's all. So, why did he feel so on edge after suggesting togetherness?

He watched as the girl continued her sketch, noting the expression that told him she was ready to call it complete. Verifying his guess, she signed her name in handwriting so neat and pretty that it put his printed scrawl to shame. He always had envied others their skills with cursive, something he could do but rather clumsily though it had improved thanks to the journals he had kept since a kind woman named Lydia had started him in that practice upon their chance meeting near a cemetery of all places.

"Well, something hot to drink does sound good," she admitted, and he smiled because she did not look as if she thought he was hitting on her. "But don't feel like you have to pay for me or anything...really, I'm okay." His smile went a bit crooked, and he waggled his head, looking away, as if to say, We'll see. Maybe. Maybe not. Refocusing his attention on her, he heard, "But I'll walk with you to find a new spot, if you like." He nodded at that because he really did not have a clue about this city though within a week, he would have paths marked out just in case he needed to disappear in a hurry. "I've lived here all my life," she told him, "so I know this place really well." Then, he was being handed the sketchbook, which he accepted as if handling something very precious, knowing how much time and creativity went into something like this. "I thought you might want to see the finished product."

In fact, it had been left open to his just-finished portrait, and he conscientiously studied it, seeing the unmistakable resemblance and finding it intriguing to see how someone looked at him, as he had when Lilith would finish one of her sketches of him. He knew he was unusually attractive without being egotistical about it. His physical beauty had been the proverbial two-edged sword throughout his life. As much as it helped him win over people it also made him a target of unwanted attention. Sometimes he hated his appearance but, in the next moment, would be terrified about the threat of growing older. While most of those his age dreamed of the freedom escaping their teens would offer, Easy Tanner clung fiercely to youth believing that his worth lay merely in his face and form. He had never been able to make others understand his fears. If he was fortunate, none of this would surface to spoil what could be his first friendship here.

"Looks good to me," he assured her as he returned it to Cassie. "I mean~it looks like me, and that's more than a lot of people can do, make a drawing that looks like the real person. I've seen lots of people try to do it, like at the Louvre~the museum," he added, unsure of how famous the place was outside of Paris. "I'd sneak up on people while they were drawing, and a lot of the time..." He shook his head, a sad expression on his face before brightening once more. "Does that make me your muse?" he teased. "Isn't that what they call inspiration for artists? Only, in the stories, aren't muses girls? So, maybe that wouldn't work out." He lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. "Maybe not. Anyway... Coffee or cocoa, right? Only, I get to pay 'cause I suggested it. That's what I always heard: If you make the invitation, you should pay. I mean one," he emphasized. "Not you like you," he said, pointing at her then laughing at how silly he sounded trying to straighten out his speech patterns. "I'll pay, Cassie" he persisted. "You saw my generous audience, right? I'm rich!"

Laughing, he got to his feet then held out his hand to her. "C'mon. Let's get warmed up, and maybe you'll show me more of your drawings~not that you have to. Maybe someday, you'll see me again and maybe I'll have one of my sketchpads with me. I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to draw you if you knew I was doin' it. I haven't tried that yet. I'm always afraid I'll mess up and the person'll be mad at me." Adjusting the strap for comfort, he waited for her to lead him away, half-tempted to take her by the hand but certain that she would consider that too forward of him. He knew that he had a tendency to overstep boundaries, and he was determined to be on his best behavior.

[The Phantom of Paris]

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

She didn't exactly know how to respond when Cat invited her for coffee. On the one hand, now that she'd started focusing on something other than her drawing, she realized that she was freezing--the adorable outfit she'd painstakingly put together that morning having been chosen for a day of sitting in classrooms and her apartment rather than traipsing around the Square with a musician. But she wasn't sure whether Cat needed the money or not. He hadn't seemed particularly concerned with whether or not his audience gave him anything, but as Cassie looked more closely at him, she couldn't help but wonder if he was homeless, or between jobs or gigs or something, or just needed a little extra cash. He was rather painfully thin, now that she realized it--Shelby would have used the term 'hipster skinny'--should she just let him use the money for food or something? Or was the weight issue just something he dealt with and he just played for fun, letting people give him something if they felt like it? From the way he played, I know he's in it for the music and not the money...but who knows? I don't want to waste it on a stupid coffee if he really needs it.

"Well, something hot to drink does sound good, but don't feel like you have to pay for me or anything...really, I'm okay." Cat only smiled at that, leaving Cassie to stumble on, "But I'll walk with you to find a new spot, if you like. I've lived here all my life, so I know this place really well." She looked down at her sketchbook for a moment before handing it over to him with a smile. "And oh, here. I thought you might want to see the finished product."

She watched him examine the sketch for a minute, his eyes roving over the whole page and seemingly taking in every detail. Suddenly, she felt the same way she did at art shows--like her work was being judged or appraised and the judges were going to tell her that it wasn't good enough. She didn't know why her self-confidence left her all of a sudden--what was he going to do, throw it away and tell her to never pick up a pencil again?--but suddenly, his opinion seemed very, very important to her. This was the first portrait she'd done in nearly a year. If the subject hated it...that would ruin everything all over again.

"Looks good to me," he said finally, causing Cassie to break out into a grin. "That's great. I'm glad you like it."

"I mean~it looks like me, and that's more than a lot of people can do, make a drawing that looks like the real person. I've seen lots of people try to do it, like at the Louvre~the museum." Cassie nodded, recognizing the name immediately. "I'd sneak up on people while they were drawing, and a lot of the time..."

She chuckled appreciatively. "You actually had the courage to do that? Whenever I've gone to the Louvre I'm always a bit scared of the artists there, you know? They're just so...intense! I feel like I'm not worthy of bothering them or something, like they're in a totally different world than me. I haven't been there in a few years, though, so maybe it would be different now...but back then they always had a very 'stay away from me, I'm working' vibe about them." Cassie paused, trying to remember the last time she'd been to Paris. The summer she turned fourteen, right? Yeah, because that's when Shelby was obsessed with Phantom of the Opera for the first time, and she was twelve then. And that was before Mom started cheating...so yeah. Fourteen."Maybe if I were to go back I'd feel differently about them."

"Does that make me your muse?" Cat asked, mischief in his voice. "Isn't that what they call inspiration for artists? Only, in the stories, aren't muses girls? So, maybe that wouldn't work out...Maybe not."

She laughed. "I think in mythology, they were girls. And in Hercules, you know, the Disney movie. The street that my dad lives on is named after one of the Greek Muses, actually. The muse of Tragedy, I'm pretty sure."

"Anyway... Coffee or cocoa, right? Only, I get to pay 'cause I suggested it." The words flew out of his mouth before Cassie could object to them, and she gave a defeated sort of smile. "That's what I always heard: If you make the invitation, you should pay."

Cassie was about to agree when Cat interrupted her, sounding slightly embarrassed. "I mean one. Not you like you." She looked at him, amused, until he burst out laughing. "I'll pay, Cassie. You saw my generous audience, right? I'm rich!"

She laughed along with him, nodding. "Fair enough," she agreed.

Cat got to his feet then, politely leaning down and offering a hand to Cassie to help her up. She closed her sketchbook and took it, letting him smoothly pull her to her feet. Once there, she kept a hold of his hand for maybe just a fraction of a second longer than was necessary as he said, "C'mon. Let's get warmed up, and maybe you'll show me more of your drawings~not that you have to."

"I'd like that."

"Maybe someday, you'll see me again and maybe I'll have one of my sketchpads with me. I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to draw you if you knew I was doin' it. I haven't tried that yet. I'm always afraid I'll mess up and the person'll be mad at me."

"I do that all the time!" Cassie exclaimed, ignoring the 'maybe someday' in his words even though she had to admit they alarmed her a little. Maybe I wasn't too far off in thinking he needs the money...sounds like he's not planning to stay for long. "In fact, I was worried the whole time you were looking at the drawing I did that you were going to hate it. I don't know why...probably because I haven't drawn anyone in forever, like I said. But don't worry, it's not just you who worries about things like that."

"So...coffee!" she said after a brief pause. "Du Monde's the best place around here. It's close by, too. Right over that way," she said, pointing. "Follow me."

[mystmoonstruck]

Easy "Cat" Tanner

When Cassie smiled so beautifully at his response to her drawing, he wished that he had been even more enthusiastic since she seemed almost relieved by his approval. "That's great. I'm glad you like it," she said, earning a rather shy smile from him as he thought that he might have seemed too stuck on himself for taking so much time examining her work. But, since he wasn't an authority on art, he couldn't put into words the things he liked about what she had done. However, he was realizing with each new artist how varied styles could be.

He tried to explain what he found so good about it, noting that it was a likeness he thought that anyone who knew him would recognize. It wasn't just a darkhaired guy playing a violin. It was clearly Easy Tanner. He mentioned sneaking looks at the Louvre, and Cassie nodded, making him believe that she must do the same thing, especially when she laughed at him demonstrating what he thought of most of them.

Then, she surprised him by asking, "You actually had the courage to do that? Whenever I've gone to the Louvre I'm always a bit scared of the artists there, you know? They're just so...intense! I feel like I'm not worthy of bothering them or something, like they're in a totally different world than me. I haven't been there in a few years, though, so maybe it would be different now...but back then they always had a very 'stay away from me, I'm working' vibe about them."

"Wow! You've been to the Louvre!" He was absolutely delighted and stunned to meet someone else who had been to Paris, and it certainly made him feel the world traveler, even just a bit sophisticated, to be able to name drop in such a way. "Yeah. You're right about some of them actin' like you shouldn't come near them, like they're so good that their stuff should be on the walls." He laughed at the memories, finding himself truly relaxing in her company, not quite as fearful that he might spoil their meeting.

"Maybe if I were to go back I'd feel differently about them," she added after seeming lost in thought for a while. He supposed that she was reliving some memories of that faraway place, just as he sometimes did. He supposed that he had taken that life for granted, forgetting what it was like to be Rafe Chancery's ward.

Attempting to remain in good humor, he had brought up the subject of muses. It felt nice to be someone's inspiration, especially as she had mentioned at least twice that she hadn't been sketching or perhaps hadn't wanted to, something he could understand. There were periods when he did not touch the sketchpad or the camera though he had remained faithful to his journals and the violin.

As for the boy/girl muse issue, Cassie had this to say: "I think in mythology, they were girls. And in Hercules, you know, the Disney movie. The street that my dad lives on is named after one of the Greek Muses, actually. The muse of Tragedy, I'm pretty sure."

Easy didn't know about the movie she mentioned but decided not to admit his ignorance. His movie education had suffered with the departure of Lilith, who had guided him toward must-sees and fun-to-sees though he never had quite the same enthusiasm over animated musicals. She had enjoyed teasing him about Finding Nemo, which he had found especially odd, not quite getting the whole thing. Deep down, he supposed that he believed fish should look like fish.

"We live on Coliseum Street," he responded, "but I don't know why they'd name a street after that big, wrecked building in Rome. Weird, huh? Chance and Jamil thought I'd forget it and get lost, so they kept making me say the name over and over." He sighed heavily, sounding very put-upon, before breaking into an offkilter grin once more.

At his insistence that he pay, Cassie at last agreed: "Fair enough." He liked her allowing him to be the gentleman, as Jamil Mehmet had emphasized that it was the right thing to do: When one invites another, that one should pay. Easy realized that he could think those careful words, but they never wanted to come out right. He truly needed to be more careful about how he spoke, having become quite careless when Lazare Moreau, his fierce and handsome voice teacher, had disappeared from his life. He had dreamed of Moreau's approval and had made some headway in his manners and speech. Well, perhaps he should work harder on that project. Then, someday, he might encounter Monsieur Moreau again and astonish him with his excellent behavior.

Cat got to his feet then offered a hand to Cassie to help her stand. Was he imagining that her hand lingered in his? It had felt nice, as he so often was starved for contact, knowing how difficult it was for him to observe boundaries. He had to be so careful to curb that part of him who was Alleycat, and his Kitten self was scarcely more trustworthy. While others used words for communication, Easy had spent his life communicating through touch, and often his casual contact could be misinterpreted or even considered too forward. As they began walking, he had spoken of a possible meeting again someday and about showing his sketches to her. He had admitted his fears of criticism, and her comment made him realize that this just might be a more-common fear than he believed. Obviously, praise for an artist's work could go a long way in making him or her feel more confident.

"In fact," Cassie went on to admit, "I was worried the whole time you were looking at the drawing I did that you were going to hate it. I don't know why...probably because I haven't drawn anyone in forever, like I said. But don't worry, it's not just you who worries about things like that."

"Guess I should have given a better... Um... What do they call it? A critique? I don't know the right things to say yet. I know there's shading. I wish I knew the words to use. Maybe I should read a book about drawing and learn some. I know I could never do like people at the museum, the ones who stand around and say, 'The yellow makes this~whatever~and the red is so violent~or whatever.'" He snorted at his dreadful attempt to sum up what he had overheard. Where he saw splashes of paint in no particular order, they would see battles or lovers or even an emotion. It was simply one more skill he did not have.

"So...coffee!" she said after a brief pause. "Du Monde's the best place around here. It's close by, too. Right over that way," she said, pointing. "Follow me."

He was happy to do so, impulsively catching hold of her hand, laughing as he did so, no longer feeling the anger and frustration he had been experiencing since being taken from the life he had been trying to build. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad move after all. If only they would allow him enough freedom, he wouldn't mind so much having to go back to school.

"Cocoa," he decided suddenly, "with little marshmallows~lots of 'em~um~them," he corrected, determined that he would polish his speech as much as possible.

OOC: Poppy, do you want them to move to Cafe du Monde? If so, you can do an opening post there or have a final one in Jackson Square. Anything's OK with me! BIC:

[The Phantom of Paris]

Cassandra "Cassie" Wright

"I think in mythology, they were girls," Cassie told Cat after he asked about the muses, trying to think back to what she'd learned about Greek myths in her eighth-grade English class. She laughed a little as she tacked on, "And in Hercules, you know, the Disney movie. The street that my dad lives on is named after one of the Greek Muses, actually. The muse of Tragedy, I'm pretty sure."


"We live on Coliseum Street, but I don't know why they'd name a street after that big, wrecked building in Rome. Weird, huh? Chance and Jamil thought I'd forget it and get lost, so they kept making me say the name over and over." Cassie broke into another grin, shrugging a little. "I don't know. I guess we just like ancient things? You live really close to my dad and step-mom, actually. They're on Melpomene Street. I moved out a few months ago, though."

Cat stretched out a hand to help Cassie up, and the conversation shifted as he insisted on buying her something hot to drink, and they briefly discussed the tendency of artists to be scared of their subjects' reactions to their artwork. Before Cassie knew it, she was admitting her fears to this perfect stranger. Woah. Have I ever even told Erin about how nervous I get about this? Or Shelby? Probably not. They just wouldn't get it. Drawing is different from getting onstage and singing a song, it's different from making a movie...they'd sympathize, but would they really understand what it's like? Of course not.

"Guess I should have given a better... Um... What do they call it? A critique? I don't know the right things to say yet. I know there's shading. I wish I knew the words to use. Maybe I should read a book about drawing and learn some."

She chuckled. "Yeah, there's shading. Some people call it 'value', but I never really got the point of that word. It's like they're saying a drawing or painting or something is somehow better or worth more just because there's some shading."

"I know I could never do like people at the museum, the ones who stand around and say, 'The yellow makes this~whatever~and the red is so violent~or whatever."

"Or the ones that use the word 'avant-garde' every two seconds?" Cassie asked. "Those annoy me. They take the whole art snob thing way too far sometimes...So...coffee!Du Monde's the best place around here. It's close by, too. Right over that way. Follow me."

She gave him a brief look of surprise when Cat slipped his hand into hers, but didn't pull away. Part of her wondered, again, whether he was hitting on her, but something about his enthusiasm made her think that he just wanted a friend and maybe wasn't aware of personal boundaries. He really does remind me of a cat, actually. A stray one that won't let you pet it until it knows it can trust you. One that's scared, but starved for love at the same time and super-friendly once it gets to know you. Or maybe I'm just reading way too much into things...I don't know.

"Cocoa," Cat corrected her, "with little marshmallows~lots of 'em~um~them." She giggled at his sudden attempt to correct his informal way of speaking. Hey, you don't have to go that. This is the South, after all, you're gonna find a whole lot of accents and weird ways of speaking and people who talk exactly the way you do. I really don't mind.

"Sounds delicious," she agreed as they walked hand-in-hand out of the square.

Cassie has left Jackson Square with Easy.