17 Jan 2020, 19:30
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
[QUOTE]
[QUOTE]The most obvious sign of his nervousness is how tight he clunches to his electric guitar. If you ask him how he's doing, using his impeccable lying skills, Roman's bound to say that he's doing great. If great means when you feel as though you're about to throw up after consecutively being punched in the stomach by your greatest enemy, that is. He stands in the middle of the Rehearsal Room, waiting. (Awkwardly, but he won't ever admit to being awkward, of course).
Anyways, here he is, waiting for his bandmates to arrive so they can practice and genuinely bond or whatever.
Though he wouldn't consider their "first" meeting a complete disaster, it didn't end up helping a lot either. They didn't talk or anything, and no questions were brought up. Just thinking about how bad he felt makes him want to leave. He won't, of course, he won't, because he believes in this band. (Roman has seen what those first-years can do, and they've got the talent he's been looking for.) And, also, because he has a reputation. He's the cool guy, not a chicken.
This dream is worth the embarrassment, he thinks, as he sits down on the floor, positioning his guitar correctly. Bored, he starts to play one of his old songs that he wrote to his mother. Keeping a straight face, he hums to the lyrics, not remembering them quite well, but they still make his heart warm.
January 16th, 2020
Interacting with @Rafael D'Spacito + @Virgil Lee + @Saoirse Dwight + @Halston Wright
Interacting with @Rafael D'Spacito + @Virgil Lee + @Saoirse Dwight + @Halston Wright
Reducio
OC: There's no post order, so write all you want. I hope we finally get to know each other better. Let's make The Witching Hour the greatest wizarding band ever, alright?
[QUOTE]The most obvious sign of his nervousness is how tight he clunches to his electric guitar. If you ask him how he's doing, using his impeccable lying skills, Roman's bound to say that he's doing great. If great means when you feel as though you're about to throw up after consecutively being punched in the stomach by your greatest enemy, that is. He stands in the middle of the Rehearsal Room, waiting. (Awkwardly, but he won't ever admit to being awkward, of course).
Anyways, here he is, waiting for his bandmates to arrive so they can practice and genuinely bond or whatever.
Though he wouldn't consider their "first" meeting a complete disaster, it didn't end up helping a lot either. They didn't talk or anything, and no questions were brought up. Just thinking about how bad he felt makes him want to leave. He won't, of course, he won't, because he believes in this band. (Roman has seen what those first-years can do, and they've got the talent he's been looking for.) And, also, because he has a reputation. He's the cool guy, not a chicken.
This dream is worth the embarrassment, he thinks, as he sits down on the floor, positioning his guitar correctly. Bored, he starts to play one of his old songs that he wrote to his mother. Keeping a straight face, he hums to the lyrics, not remembering them quite well, but they still make his heart warm.
R. H. Kingston
19 Jan 2020, 11:43
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
There's a lot going on in his head, as per usual. Doubts, fears, the growing anxiety has been getting way out of control as of late, much to nobody's surprise, really, but he's working on it. Of course, he is. Virgil Lee is tough, or so he likes to think in order to console himself. And it's with that in mind, telling himself constantly that he's tough and that he can do it, is that he opens the door to the Rehearsal Room.
He forces himself in, with an almost angry expression to his face, trying to convey the look of a very capable, strong student. Virgil is sure that he looks like an angry kitten more than anything, but he tries not to think about that. He stops making that face when he hears the sound of a guitar and a humming voice. He takes a step in, finding Roman Kingston, the leader of The Witching Hour band and a fellow Slytherin, sitting on the floor, playing the electric guitar.
The guy, Roman, is really tall (scaringly so) and has dark straight hair and an often expressionless face. Virgil doesn't like to admit it, but he's kind of scared of him, even though Roman has been nothing but polite to him, he still feel scared just by the thought of making the other angry. However, now, as he watches Roman play all by himself, Virgil doesn't find himself scared.
Looking down, Virgil says, "You're really good..."
@Rafael D'Spacito @Roman Kingston @Saoirse Dwight @Halston Wright
V. G. L. Armitage
ST: 5_E: 7_S: 5_W: 7_AP: 5_A: 6
20 Jan 2020, 21:12
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Roman Kingston @Halston Wright @Virgil Lee @Saoirse Dwight
[font=Segoe Print]While Rafael wasn’t too focused on appearances today, the idea had been on his mind. He rather liked the way he looked no matter what he wore – sure, that was the man in him talking, the same voice that told him to throw paper in class and pull dangerous stunts on his broom. He’d always had a bit of a crazy side to him, one that showed itself in nearly every situation he’d ever been in, one way or another. But, perhaps lately, he had grown a bit more reserved, regarding his dangerous side. He had learned all too quickly that first impressions were everything – especially at a school like this. Granted, there was once a time in his life, a long, long time ago, when he’d be completely comfortable going to school in anything – people didn’t care all too much what you looked like in the Northlands of Buenas Aires. Especially his mates. It was different, however, in this all-too-new environment – the students seemed to read into every action he made, similar to the way a hawk watches its prey. It had brought him a great deal of discomfort, trying to be himself while conforming to the new social cues. A learning curve, surely, one he was struggling to overcome even this far into the year.
And it was no different in this situation now, as he prepared himself to meet his band for the second time. Sure, his impression had already been made, but barely so – anything was possible, as others’ impression of him was rather malleable. He hardy remembered the faces of his band mates, for crying out loud. Band Meetings and all that – they did carry some weight, he supposed. Especially if everyone present meant business. It seemed as if Roman had thought highly of their band – Rafael wasn’t sure what to make of that, but if their leader was taking it seriously, then why shouldn’t he? If everything went according to plan, then he was most likely going to grow very close with the people of the Witching Hour – which meant, impressions meant a lot. He couldn’t have his mates thinking he were soft, or a pansy, or anything of that sort. On the contrary, he would carry himself as he was – confident, brave, quick-witted. [At least, he hoped he could. He never, ever doubted his ability, but the school only grew stranger as time wore on. Anything was possible, he supposed.]
He had been thinking of these things as he stood at the door of the Rehearsal Room, playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt wryly and chewing his lip in discomfort. An onlooker most likely wouldn’t be able to make sense of his emotions – an inexpressive face, staring at the door with determined eyes and a relaxed look to his body. They wouldn’t be able to read the discomfort in his head, or the steady rise of his heart rate, or even the slightest tics of nervousness that expressed themselves in the smallest ways. Now that he had made it here – for the second time, no less – he’d finally realized that he was in the game for real. The situation stressed him out in the slightest, throwing his usual, brazen fearlessness off and bringing a sense of worry to his body. But no one had to know that.
Without waiting for his feelings to get the best of him, he pushed through the door of the rehearsal room, a non-expressive look on his face. The musty smell of the room hit him gently, similar to the hug a mother gives you, warm and comforting. It gave him a happy, peaceful feeling – his shoulders lost a bit of the tension they once carried, his determined eyes softening a bit. The rehearsal room was simply one of the best places at Hogwarts – anyone who thought differently would have to go through him. There was just something about it that could make any situation better. He often found that he gravitated more to this room than to almost any other, only second to the Quidditch Pitch. [But that was a story all in itself.]
Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely registered the band leader, Roman, and one of his fellow bandmates, Virgil. He hadn’t really learned much about either one as of yet, although they had met up with once, during their first meeting. He’d realized that perhaps he had come off a bit strong during their first meeting – he suddenly steeled his dizzying mess of emotions, keen on fixing that. “Hey, mates,” he called out into the open air, his voice a mix of impassiveness and comfort. He vaguely noted his own accent, awkwardly throwing all his words off and adding a strange sound to his speech. He’d always been a bit reluctant towards this feature of himself – though his loosely feigned American accent was making his dialogue much more intelligible, it still sounded awkward and messy, bringing him a bout of discomfort whenever he thought of it too much. “Heard there was a meeting today. Hope I’m not late or anything.” Of course, he knew he wasn’t late – perhaps it was his way of starting additional conversation. He felt a bit lost for words at the moment, anyways, given his strange feelings about the whole situation. “Talking about me, were you?” he offered a smooth grin at the end of his statement, his eyebrow raised jokingly – he inwardly prayed to whatever existed in the sky that this would clear the tense air between him and his bandmates. The tenseness in his head, in the least. Because he knew, better than anyone, that tenseness would get him nowhere. Especially in a band. [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]While Rafael wasn’t too focused on appearances today, the idea had been on his mind. He rather liked the way he looked no matter what he wore – sure, that was the man in him talking, the same voice that told him to throw paper in class and pull dangerous stunts on his broom. He’d always had a bit of a crazy side to him, one that showed itself in nearly every situation he’d ever been in, one way or another. But, perhaps lately, he had grown a bit more reserved, regarding his dangerous side. He had learned all too quickly that first impressions were everything – especially at a school like this. Granted, there was once a time in his life, a long, long time ago, when he’d be completely comfortable going to school in anything – people didn’t care all too much what you looked like in the Northlands of Buenas Aires. Especially his mates. It was different, however, in this all-too-new environment – the students seemed to read into every action he made, similar to the way a hawk watches its prey. It had brought him a great deal of discomfort, trying to be himself while conforming to the new social cues. A learning curve, surely, one he was struggling to overcome even this far into the year.
And it was no different in this situation now, as he prepared himself to meet his band for the second time. Sure, his impression had already been made, but barely so – anything was possible, as others’ impression of him was rather malleable. He hardy remembered the faces of his band mates, for crying out loud. Band Meetings and all that – they did carry some weight, he supposed. Especially if everyone present meant business. It seemed as if Roman had thought highly of their band – Rafael wasn’t sure what to make of that, but if their leader was taking it seriously, then why shouldn’t he? If everything went according to plan, then he was most likely going to grow very close with the people of the Witching Hour – which meant, impressions meant a lot. He couldn’t have his mates thinking he were soft, or a pansy, or anything of that sort. On the contrary, he would carry himself as he was – confident, brave, quick-witted. [At least, he hoped he could. He never, ever doubted his ability, but the school only grew stranger as time wore on. Anything was possible, he supposed.]
He had been thinking of these things as he stood at the door of the Rehearsal Room, playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt wryly and chewing his lip in discomfort. An onlooker most likely wouldn’t be able to make sense of his emotions – an inexpressive face, staring at the door with determined eyes and a relaxed look to his body. They wouldn’t be able to read the discomfort in his head, or the steady rise of his heart rate, or even the slightest tics of nervousness that expressed themselves in the smallest ways. Now that he had made it here – for the second time, no less – he’d finally realized that he was in the game for real. The situation stressed him out in the slightest, throwing his usual, brazen fearlessness off and bringing a sense of worry to his body. But no one had to know that.
Without waiting for his feelings to get the best of him, he pushed through the door of the rehearsal room, a non-expressive look on his face. The musty smell of the room hit him gently, similar to the hug a mother gives you, warm and comforting. It gave him a happy, peaceful feeling – his shoulders lost a bit of the tension they once carried, his determined eyes softening a bit. The rehearsal room was simply one of the best places at Hogwarts – anyone who thought differently would have to go through him. There was just something about it that could make any situation better. He often found that he gravitated more to this room than to almost any other, only second to the Quidditch Pitch. [But that was a story all in itself.]
Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely registered the band leader, Roman, and one of his fellow bandmates, Virgil. He hadn’t really learned much about either one as of yet, although they had met up with once, during their first meeting. He’d realized that perhaps he had come off a bit strong during their first meeting – he suddenly steeled his dizzying mess of emotions, keen on fixing that. “Hey, mates,” he called out into the open air, his voice a mix of impassiveness and comfort. He vaguely noted his own accent, awkwardly throwing all his words off and adding a strange sound to his speech. He’d always been a bit reluctant towards this feature of himself – though his loosely feigned American accent was making his dialogue much more intelligible, it still sounded awkward and messy, bringing him a bout of discomfort whenever he thought of it too much. “Heard there was a meeting today. Hope I’m not late or anything.” Of course, he knew he wasn’t late – perhaps it was his way of starting additional conversation. He felt a bit lost for words at the moment, anyways, given his strange feelings about the whole situation. “Talking about me, were you?” he offered a smooth grin at the end of his statement, his eyebrow raised jokingly – he inwardly prayed to whatever existed in the sky that this would clear the tense air between him and his bandmates. The tenseness in his head, in the least. Because he knew, better than anyone, that tenseness would get him nowhere. Especially in a band. [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
21 Jan 2020, 18:55
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Rafael D'Spacito @Virgil Lee @Halston Wright @Saoirse DwightRoman's soul almost leaves his body at the sound of Lee's voice complimenting him. He jumps and sends the most irritated, dangerous glare he has in his arsenal in the boy's direction. Letting out a huff (a frustrated one, of course), he gets up, still clinging to his guitar as if his life depended on it (which is sort of true). He scans The Witching Hour's main vocalist up and down, feeling strangely taller than he actually is.
Not that he expected Virgil Lee to grow during the winter break, but, Merlin, that boy is short. Not only that, but Lee looks almost fragile, like a single push from Roman would send him flying away — and he wasn't even that strong himself! Roman, no longer giving him a dirty glare, only stares at the guitar he's holding and mumbles, "I know, but thanks..."
As anyone can tell, he doesn't take compliments very well. It makes him mushy inside, almost weak. There's no one to blame, but himself. Growing up with no affectionate parents, he wasn't complimented a lot, nor supported, so it makes him leaving a bit— soft, whenever someone appreciates him for something, be it whatever. He hopes Lee doesn't notice the slight — very slight, thank Merlin! — blush that creeps in his cheeks.
Then, another voice booms in, as Rafael D'Spacito walks in, carrying himself with confidence and comfort like he's done the other two times Roman had seen him. Speaking of Roman, he's very thankful for the other's presence, because now he wouldn't have to worry about holding a proper conversation with that Lee boy. Despite being an extrovert — and very charismatic, when he wants to be —, it's hard for him to come up with nice conversation starters. After all, he doesn't want his bandmates to hate him. And he doesn't think Virgil would like the jokes he can easily come up with. What can he say? He's kind of a prick.
So, he turns to Rafael, running his fingers through his black hair, opening a reserved, but almost arrogant smile. "'Course we were, matey. Glad that the two of ya could make it." Making himself towards his bag, where he has some the lyrics of the various songs he's written throughout his young years. He opens it and grabs some of them, as he had chosen some of his best material, so as not to look like some amateur. Roman is the son of one of the greatest singers in the wizarding world, he has some big shoes to fill. And even though he doesn't think those two care that much, it matters a lot to him. He wouldn't want to make his mother even more disappointed that she already is. Smiling, ignoring all thoughts and even insecurities, Roman turns to stare at his two male bandmates again, and adds, "Since the others are prolly gon' be late, how about we start, eh? These are some songs that I wrote,"
He slithers towards them, handing the pieces of parchment with grace, looking cool like he doesn't care about their opinion on his songs, but, of course, he does. From the moment he sent them their acceptance letters, they became bandmates, and if his bandmates didn't like his lyrics, what was the point, right? What would his mother think of him?
Roman coughs and continues, "My favorite is Unfair, ya know. I wrote it just a couple of days ago, during winter break."
To be honest, he knows all of the lyrics to all his songs from front and back, left and right, up and down, but, out of all of them, that is the one he's found himself humming a lot as of late, despite not relating to the lyrics at all. It's about love, one of the easiest things to write, in his opinion, even though he's never been in a proper relationship, nor does he intend to. The first two verses and chorus go.
If you smile at me like that (Girl, don’t you know?)
It’s hard for me to not feel anything
I’ve already had several cups of coffee baby
But why do I still feel like I’m in a dream?
If my friend saw me, he would’ve cursed at me
I’m not used to being like this or saying this
But in front of you, it’s like I was never like that
You’re unfair,
Are you being selfish? (Stop it)
Your eyes, your nose, your lips,
Are they still going to be pretty no matter how much I look?
You’re unfair,
Just stop right there,
You’re dangerous, dangerous, take it slow,
"There are some lyrics in Korean. It was what sounded best to me at the time, but I'm sure I can translate it," he states to Rafael, almost certain that the other doesn't speak the language. Roman shrugs, also, just to pretend that it'd be an easy feat, but he knows it isn't. The song is a perfect mix between English and Korean and there are some verses that wouldn't sound as good. And, even though he knows that Virgil can sing in Korean, due to his phenomenal audition, he wouldn't want to have Rafael feeling left out. The guy is the lead vocalist, after all. Roman adds, "I can play for ya if ya want, too,"
R. H. Kingston
22 Jan 2020, 16:38
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Rafael D'Spacito @Roman Kingston @Saoirse Dwight @Halston Wright
Now Virgil really wants to leave.
Those two's presence instantly makes Virgil incredibly uncomfortable and overwhelmed. Rafael and Roman are tall, handsome first-years, almost twice his size, and they look much more capable and confident, too, which makes him look like a weak, tiny child by comparison. Also, so talented. (Even though he's never seen what Rafael can do, he assumes the guy must be great. Roman doesn't look like the type that would let someone with little to no talent into his band. It makes him feel weird and insecure, like he usually feels, as his anxiety forces its claws into his heart.)
Shaking, Virgil accepts Roman's lyrics sheet, watching as he moves so elegantly, sounding calm and collected, in a way he never could, not even in his wildest of dreams. Biting his lower lip, he reads the lyrics, surprised to see some of the Korean alphabet scattered in some verses. He understands most of the lines, thanks to him learning the language with his dad from a very young age. The song Roman talks about, Unfair, is about a boy in love with a girl so pretty, it's almost unfair to him and the rest of the world.
Virgil takes a good look at Roman, surprised that someone like him would write something like that. Then, he quietly listens to Roman's suggestion on translating the lyrics, so Rafael could sing and understand it, which Virgil agrees, despite knowing that it'd be a difficult thing to do.
He hears himself saying before he can stop, "I-I can help...!" Virgil takes a step back, cheeks burning like the sun. "W-With the translation, that is. Also, I, uh," He takes from his pocket folded pieces of parchment. "I have s-some of my songs, too, if you too are interested... They're not that g-good, but, I mean, uh, it's something,"
V. G. L. Armitage
ST: 5_E: 7_S: 5_W: 7_AP: 5_A: 6
3 Feb 2020, 14:32
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
Roman smiles a bit to Virgil's suggestion of helping him, though it's a bit bitter. He's sure the tiny Slytherin knows more about the language than he does, considering he actually performed a song in Korean, but it feels weird to have someone he doesn't know that well help him with a thing like his music, which is so dear to him.
He can tell that Virgil seems embarrassed at the suggestion, considering how his voice was shaking and how red his cheeks look. Roman would say it's somewhat adorable if it weren't so pathetic. But the kid means well, and, deep down, he knows it.
A quiet voice tells him to accept it because it'll help their bond grow stronger, or whatever, and maybe, Virgil will start to feel comfortable around him and the other bandmates and, at the end of the day, that's what he wants: to have a good, solid bond with his bandmates. His heart, however, doesn't agree and wants him to write all alone, in his dorm, as the cold wind cuts the night.
Regardless of how he feels, Roman nods and says, lying smoothly, "Great. I was gon' ask for ya help, anyways..." He crosses his arms over his chest, fighting back the urge to scowl at Virgil's direction. He turns back to Rafael, and asks, "So, wotcha think, Bird?"@Rafael D'Spacito @Virgil Lee @Saoirse Dwight @Halston Wright
R. H. Kingston
6 Feb 2020, 16:48
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Roman Kingston @Virgil Lee
[font=Segoe Print]"'Course we were, matey. Glad that the two of ya could make it."
Rafael let out a snort at that - the Gryffindor didn't know that much about Roman yet, but he did seem like an interesting guy. "Glad I could come," he said in response to Roman's greeting, flashing the same arrogant smile back, only ten times smugger. It was obviously for show, though, as the ridiculous look soon relaxed into a nonchalant smile. The Gryffindor took a seat and quickly made himself comfortable, leaning back and slouching a bit, playing with the strings of his hoodie. His eyes continued to review the room with an admiral gaze, only half-registering the words of the second year.
His attention returned at the mention of song theory – Roman handed him a copy of a song he had written, demanding his attention once more. "My favorite is Unfair, ya know,” he absently heard Roman say. “I wrote it just a couple of days….." The words were lost as Rafael’s focus shifted to the lyrics. He skimmed over them, taking in every word and putting together the story that Roman was trying to tell. It was an interesting song, well put together – at least, the bits he could read. There was another language, most likely Korean, if the symbols were anything to go by. Challenging, but then again, Raf had never shied away from a challenge. Perhaps he would tackle the translation just for the sake of it, in the name of defeating obstacles. Language hadn’t stopped him before – after all, he was present speaking Queen’s English.
"So, wotcha think, Bird?"
Rafael glanced up, his eyes immediately catching the second-year. He realized right then that, in the midst of his thoughts, he had most likely missed some important conversation – he cocked his head to the side, thinking of words. "What I think?" he repeated thoughtfully, chewing is lip. "What I think…. Well, I like the lyrics a lot." He waved the paper in front of his face, leaning forward to support himself on his knees nonchalantly. "Can't read the Korean, though. I s’pose I could learn the translation, unless you'd want to translate it.”
He rubbed his neck, his face remaining impartial and level-headed as he went to change the subject. "Have you written any music for it?" he asked, his eyebrow raised as he began to absently fold the paper in his hands. "If so, I'd be interested in hearing what you have down." [/font]
[font=Segoe Print]"'Course we were, matey. Glad that the two of ya could make it."
Rafael let out a snort at that - the Gryffindor didn't know that much about Roman yet, but he did seem like an interesting guy. "Glad I could come," he said in response to Roman's greeting, flashing the same arrogant smile back, only ten times smugger. It was obviously for show, though, as the ridiculous look soon relaxed into a nonchalant smile. The Gryffindor took a seat and quickly made himself comfortable, leaning back and slouching a bit, playing with the strings of his hoodie. His eyes continued to review the room with an admiral gaze, only half-registering the words of the second year.
His attention returned at the mention of song theory – Roman handed him a copy of a song he had written, demanding his attention once more. "My favorite is Unfair, ya know,” he absently heard Roman say. “I wrote it just a couple of days….." The words were lost as Rafael’s focus shifted to the lyrics. He skimmed over them, taking in every word and putting together the story that Roman was trying to tell. It was an interesting song, well put together – at least, the bits he could read. There was another language, most likely Korean, if the symbols were anything to go by. Challenging, but then again, Raf had never shied away from a challenge. Perhaps he would tackle the translation just for the sake of it, in the name of defeating obstacles. Language hadn’t stopped him before – after all, he was present speaking Queen’s English.
"So, wotcha think, Bird?"
Rafael glanced up, his eyes immediately catching the second-year. He realized right then that, in the midst of his thoughts, he had most likely missed some important conversation – he cocked his head to the side, thinking of words. "What I think?" he repeated thoughtfully, chewing is lip. "What I think…. Well, I like the lyrics a lot." He waved the paper in front of his face, leaning forward to support himself on his knees nonchalantly. "Can't read the Korean, though. I s’pose I could learn the translation, unless you'd want to translate it.”
He rubbed his neck, his face remaining impartial and level-headed as he went to change the subject. "Have you written any music for it?" he asked, his eyebrow raised as he began to absently fold the paper in his hands. "If so, I'd be interested in hearing what you have down." [/font]
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
21 Feb 2020, 22:07
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Rafael D'Spacito @Virgil LeeCompliments are like air to him.
The lack of compliments growing up really made him like this. Or anything nice, to be honest. It's a rarity to hear his father direct any positive words in Roman's direction in general, which, despite being used to, is incredibly demotivating. Especially in regards to his music, be it his natural talent with the guitar, which he clearly inherited from his mother, or his lyrics. Whenever he sings or plays, Roman only gets side looks and, sometimes, if his father's not on a good mood, some deprecating comment.
So, with that said, of course, Roman puffs his chest to the Gryffindor's compliment, even prouder of himself — if that was even possible, that is. Making his way to his guitar, listening to what Rafael has to say, he notices that the other hasn't been paying attention to what he and Virgil had been talking about. Rafael mentions the translation of the song, to which Roman smiles, shaking his head softly, in a condescending way, but, due to his delicate smile, can be read as an endeared way, or something along those lines.
"Ye, I was just talkin' 'bout that," he says, picking up his guitar and positioning himself in the sitting position of before. "So, the song isn't exactly punk rock. It's softer. Decided to make it like that 'cause... I dunno, feelings and stuff, ya know, but changing it won't be hard," His eyes go to the instrument and, delicately, knowing every part of that song from beginning to finish, he starts to play, fingers touching the cords with passion, as he frowns, drinking the notes that escape.
His voice comes lower and unsurprisingly insecure after a few notes. Singing isn't exactly his forte, but Roman shakes it off, changing to a lower key that what he had envisioned. The words drip naturally, and with the feeling of an artist pouring his heart out. He smiles to himself, as he goes to the second verse, which is faster and easier for him to sing, being in Korean. Considering their auditions, both Rafael and Virgil wouldn't have any trouble singing in a higher key.
R. H. Kingston
19 Mar 2020, 12:35
Practice Makes Perfect — TWH 02
@Rafael D'Spacito @Roman Kingston
Virgil listens to them talking, feeling extremely left out. He holds his song lyrics, embarrassed, watching as Roman goes back to sitting on the floor and starts playing his song. He hides it, no longer wanting to let them read them. Virgil takes a step back, and when the other Slytherin starts playing, that's when he raises his eyes once again.
Once again, Virgil's sure that he sees passion flooding Roman's dark eyes as he plays. The boy's voice is soft and quiet, like the second before a thunderstorm. It may not be the strongest or the prettiest, or with the best technique, but there's something about it that makes Virgil almost bewitched. He listens, shocked, adoring every second of it. The Korean lyrics mix with the English ones perfectly to the point that he can't even tell they're switching.
Not exactly the sound he had envisioned, but there's something about it that makes it ten times better than what he had in mind. Virgil waits quietly for Roman to finish playing, fidgeting, a bunch of compliments on the tip of his tongue. He can't wait to play this song live, alongside his bandmates, singing, pouring his heart out, just like the leader is.
V. G. L. Armitage
ST: 5_E: 7_S: 5_W: 7_AP: 5_A: 6