Ocean's Anthem (Open)

[rowan]

A thick bank of fog had already settled on the water’s surface, a trademark of San-Francisco. Likewise, this particular evening was wet and relatively cold, no higher than fifty degrees. The sun had already started its flight to the eastern continents, and was now setting meekly beyond the horizon line. It cast a last waning beam through the mist, giving a dusky light to the fog covered, sandy beach that lined the bay. In conditions like this, it was usually vacant, with some exceptions...

A single shape marked the sand of the beach; a young man sitting sprawled like an empty candy wrapper. He was conspicuously underdressed; barefoot, wearing only jeans and a thin white dress shirt, open at the collar. His black hair was pulled into a short stub of a ponytail, but a few locks escaped captivity, and were plastered to his face by the moist sea-breeze. He held an old acoustic guitar in his lap, which he did not play; he only held it, the strings untouched, resting his chin against the body. Beside him, a black case lay open, containing only thing: a copy of “Siddhartha” by Hermann Hesse, where he had been when he first opened the clasps of the leather case. It had been his mother's favorite book, and she had left it there for him to find. He had read it ten times or more, and now it was as much a part of his world as the old instrument, or the air in his lungs. As the wind blew, the strings sang out quietly: it was badly out of tune, but he made no attempt to fix it, listening the discordant whisper.

-What am I doing here, so far from where I belong? Does he still control me so much, after these four years? Even a dog makes its way home, eventually. His somber face flashed a brief smile as he remembered a pair of young strays that had played in the street before him, the day he took his first steps in San Francisco.

-They made a home here. When, and where will I?-

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind, and sighed, symbolically. The force of his breath was overpowered even by the gentle wind. His hand moved over the strings, poised to play, but hesitated instead, hovering for a moment, but innevitably moving back to their restful postion. He continued to sit, with the sound of the wind and ocean, and the cry of gulls, boldly meeting him on the quiet beach.

[Teneile]

Teneile often took to walking the beach at times when she just couldn't stand being in her empty house anyore. Sure she lived with her father but he was never there. He worked all the time and she was forced to live basically alone merely seeing her father in passing or not at all for days on end. He had taken the deaths of his wife and son hard they had gone both at different times but neither easier than the other. So it was just Teneile and her father now but mostly.. it was just Teneile. She hated being lonely, Teneile was the kind of girl that craved attention and loved being around people. She loved talking, laughing, and being with someone that was when she flourished most and right now she had no one.

There had been someone but he had left months ago and she was alone once more. She had waited knowing just knowing he would come back to her but he never had, never did and probably never would. It was time to move on and she was doing her best but what she needed was someone to light that spark that lay dormant within her again. Someone to laugh with and someone to make her smile. Heck, it didn't have to be romantic she would take just about anything so long as she didn't have to feel so alone anymore. Teneile was dressed in close fitting blue jeans her white tennis shoes dangled from her hand. A white button down dress shirt clung to her rather curvatious frame as the wind wipped around her tangling her hip length dark red hair. Teneile had that pale milky skin and blue eyes, she was a natural redhead complete with a few freckles that seemed to multiply in the sun.

The redhead ducked down picking up a beautiful shell from the beach and she continued on scraping the sand from the crevaces that lay naturally within the beautiful white and blue depths of the shell. Nature had the most beautiful art work. Teniele looked up at the cawwing of some birds close by and that was when she saw the man there sitting on the beach looking as bad as she felt. Loneliness she recognized it in his very way of sitting but perhaps if nothing else she could give him and herself one night off from the tragic feelings.

"Hey there." she said friendily. "You look about as lonely as I feel." she said with a smirk. "I hope you don't mind if I try to remedy that."

Teneile gave him a genuine smile, see I didn't lie, I told you her real spark comes out around people. Teniele planted herself in the sand next to him and looked over at the boy that seemed to be hugging his guitar instead of playing it.

"Do you play?" she inquired.

[rowan]

His fingers moving to the head of the guitar, the left hand began to work the tuning nobs, the right stroking the strings gently, while Rowan himself sat, eyes closed, finding a balance in the resonant sound. The twang of the steel strings rung out, almost like the sand of the beach itself. Less than a minute later, the motion in his left hand ceased, and he strummed the open strings, humming with rich, dusty tone. His fingers now moved deftly up and down the frets, and he plucked notes from the instrument, incoherently and without any particular scheme. The sound stopped, snuffed by his hand, as he gave the redheaded girl a sidelong glance. His hazel eyes, barely visible from the angle of his head, gave a stark contrast: one pupil enlarged in the dusk, the other barely a pinhole.

“Not really lonely, but… people make better company than birds”, Rowan said jokingly, a slight but meaningful smile on his lips as he did so. Reaching his hand back, he took the elastic from his hair, letting it fall down freely, blowing slightly in the breeze. He looked back to the ocean, and slowly closed his eyes, searching for a melody to play for the young stranger. He settled on a tune, an interesting acoustic cover he had heard in Seattle, on his way to San Francisco. Deftly, his fingers began to finger the frets, while he strummed gently and rhythmically on the strings. To anyone but a musician, the melody would most likely be unrecognizable. But, after a few seconds, he drew in a long, slow breath, and began to sing the more familiar lyrics.

“My baby don’t mess around,
Because she loves me so,
And this I know for sure”

The song, usually full of energy and joy, took on a slow, soulful quality in Rowan’s voice. It was dry and rich, and matched perfectly with the dusty hum of the old guitar. He sang with eyes closed and brows tense, imparting each word with quiet, gentle emotion. Playing for him was not an escape. It was once, but over the years, he had developed it into a method of projecting himself into the world, farther than his legs could carry him. Even now, on a deserted beach, for a solitary soul, he felt the connectedness that music brought him.

“Heeyy Yaa
heeyy yaa”

The tune wound down, and he let the strings ring out their last note, his hazel slowly appearing once again as he stood, holding the guitar by it’s neck in his left hand. The smiled, slightly, sincerely, and without looking up from the fog covered water, extended his hand toward her, and spoke softly.

“Rowan Jaeger."

[Teneile]

Teneile smiled as he seemed to instead of answering.. decide to play for her. He said that he wasn't really lonely but there was something.. something there that called to her. Her nuturing nature was pulling tugging at her heartstrings wondering what it was she could do for this man what she could do to see a real smile. But right now she wasn't going to pry because she knew that some people didn't like to talk about their pasts or why they were feeling a certain way, Teneile tended to be more open than others were.

His fingers began to strum the guitar and she pulled her knees up close to her chest leaning her torso against them her arms wrapped around her legs she listened to his song and his voice. They were good, voice, song, playing and all. The way his hair now fluttered in the breeze gave him more of that solo open mike night feel to him but she thought he was handsome. she wasn't going to say anything about it, after all she didn't know his name but it was nice that he would quell her lonliness by allowing her to be here with him. Teneile's eyes slid closed as she let the words and the melody wash over her amid the crashing waves and the sound of the beach it all seemed to fit somehow.

When he was finished she opened her eyes and looked at him. Hazel. His eyes were fantastic hers were blue a dark blue that was seen often in redheaded people, blue or green and Teneile had blue. She watched him for a moment and the way that his eyes didn't move from the water beyond. She didn't mind though, he looked almost pensive the way he sat there just watching the fog roll in on the waves. His hand extended and she smiled moving her own hand to his letting her silken pale skin slide into his palm.

"Teneile Sen. A pleasure." she said softly with another smile even if he wasn't looking at her that didn't mean he couldn't see her out of the corner of his eye. "What brings you to the beach today?" she asked curiously as her hand gently slid back from his her eyes never leaving his face. Teneile's hair flapped and snapped in the breeze around them the hip long lengths were played with by the wind like kite strings, she was a rather pretty girl especially when she smiled which she hadn't done much lately because she was finding less and less to smile about.

Maybe ... that was about to change.

[rowan]

Rowan remained standing, still holding the strapless guitar in one hand, near the body. His poise was unassuming, his feet less than a humble shoulder’s width apart. However, not a quiver of apprehension could be seen in his body, or in his placid expression. He stood, not notably tall or straight, but assured of his place in the world, with no need of asserting himself into it. Likewise, his voice was soft, but with no doubt. In totality, he gave the impression of a youth without fear, and without desire; too old for his own body.

“I’ve never lived near open water before now.” He now stared fixatedly into the mist. Settling even more thickly, the fog had walled them off from the rest of the world, allowing only a few short yards of dark water to be seen, obscuring the rest in pure white.

“Once though, when I was very young, we traveled north, to the sea. It was ice, solid, for I-don't-know how many miles.” Slowly, he reached out a steady arm, his hand gesturing to encompass the breadth of the Earth’s gentle curve. For Rowan, like any of the working class, the hand was a badge of honor. Among them, it was the most powerful part of the body, and his were strong and callused like well-worn brass. He held it, fanned outwards, peircing the fog, for several moments. Then, his outstretched fingers relaxed, and the hand returned to its place at his side.

“You couldn’t even make out the horizon; the white ice and the clouds were the same pristine color; just like this fog” His voice ceased momentarily, replaced by the natural sounds, disembodied as their sources were made invisible by the veil of mist. Turning his shoulders, he looked straight at her for the first time; his eyes were honest in their lack of expression . He did not smile, but his expression was far from sadness; it spoke of a state of mind removed from intuitive feeling.

“I was just a child then, but I was sure that that place was where this Planet began.”