The Accompanist
Author's Disclaimer: No, I don't own Strange Magic, or any songs that I mention in this story. All rights go to their respective owners. I saw Strange Magic and fell in love with Bog and Marianne. Then I saw fanart and fanfic, and this happened. I'm very fond of adding music where I can, so I make no apologies for changing lyrics, just like certain kings did. This will be a modern AU of Strange Magic, also without Bog's wonderful brogue, as I am terrible with certain accents. My apologies for that. I hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 1: The First Meeting
There it goes.
There it goes again.
And again.
For the last hour, the same opening chords to Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water" were being played, each time more lifeless than the last. Were they trying to kill what little love he had for such a simple, already overplayed song?
Obviously so.
That. Is. It!
Bog flew up from the table. He could not take it anymore. He was going to walk over there and put that poor guitar out of its misery one way or the other, whether by taking the guitar, or by stopping the fingers from playing again. He preferred the latter idea, as he already owned two guitars.
Picking up his laptop and coffee, Bog left the highly-coveted table next to the outlet at the popular coffee shop. He headed upstairs, where a stage was set up for open mic nights held on the weekends. Today, apparently, was early practice, or so he hoped. He had seen signs of some sort for guitarists littering the shop for two weeks, so now must be the time.
When Bog got to the top of the stairs, he saw a line of five men with guitars, while on stage there was a brunette woman with a clipboard, standing regally as she watched another man make "Smoke on the Water" sound like a children's lullaby. The guy playing had not been paying long by Bog's observations, as the guy's technique was atrocious, and even the woman (who was rather attractive with her hair in a pixie cut) seemed to be cringing as she watched. Why was she not stopping such crimes against their ears and Deep Purple? If she would not, then he would.
"Stop! Stop this right now! You, yes you, playing with the newly bought guitar onstage who doesn't know how to play. Stop playing, or else."
Almost dropping his guitar mid-song, the guitar player in question stopped playing once Bog started shouting and looking all dark and menacingly at him, and by the time Bog stopped talking, the guitarist was packed to go.
The other men in line snickered at the guitarist until Bog turned to them, his sneering words only making him seem more frightening.
"And how many of you are noobs like that guy there? Anyone else want to lose their guitars, or worse?"
With such threats hanging above their heads (literally, since Bog was a head taller than all of them), the five men soon dispersed, leaving the now-angry brunette on stage, fingers tapping irritably on the clipboard. Bog opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it just as fast as the woman chose that moment to start yelling at him. That she began to circle him, flitting about quickly as though flying, did not help him to keep up with her at first.
"What do you think you're doing? Who do you think you are? What right have you to interrupt something that I paid good money to reserve-"
"Frankly, I'm doing both of us a favor. I saw the way you looked at them, don't try to deny it. You thought they were just as bad as I did. Whatever reason you brought them here, it is not worth it. I've been listening since they began, and none of them sound good, one just as lifeless as the rest."
"While that may be, I still need an accompanist. How do you suggest I fix that?"
She tapped her foot while waiting for him to answer, while he did his best to scare her by standing over her.
"Advertise better, or look for musicians at other venues. All the ones here are crap."
The woman sighed before saying with an exasperated tone, "I've already tried that, Mister-"
"Bog. My friends call me Bog. You are?"
"Marianne. Wait, Bog, as in Bog of Eternal Stench?"
Bog crinkled his nose in annoyance before answering.
"I can see quite clearly how you feel about me now."
Marianne blushed as she said, "No, I didn't mean it like that! I was making reference to a movie I like-"
"That conveniently also insults me after I scared away your possibilities."
"Really now? While I am upset about that, I still meant nothing else by calling you that. I just wanted to see if your name really was that unique."
"Yes it is, for your information. My parents came from Scotland, and they wanted a way to remember their homeland, with a rather unconventional name."
"An unconventional name that just happens to match the personality."
"You know nothing about me, Marianne-"
Marianne was running at him now, and everything flew out in a rush as she tried to make her point. Bog quickly realized that he had a feisty one on his hands.
"Except for the fact that you are willing to interrupt my session to find an accompanist for my younger sister's wedding after months of searching, and then you come in without asking any questions or being polite enough to wait until it was all done, which wouldn't have been long. You're also a music snob, who may or may not have any discernible musical ability of your own-"
"As for interrupting in the name of helping your sister, I'm sorry."
He only paused for a moment, as politeness was something that he had always been taught by his mother (even if it was one of the few things that she had taught him). Then, he continued on.
"Still, the sound was grating beyond belief. As for being a music snob without talent," he said, picking up a lonely guitar that had been left discarded by a scared wannabe, "I took violin lessons for eight years before learning guitar, and have been playing that since. The next time that you want to use Deep Purple, at least choose a more challenging song, like 'Mistreated'. It's a better, less known song."
Marianne was about to object to his criticisms of her song choice when she heard the guitar. Then he started singing as well, and she stopped, curious to hear him.
He started off with the first couple well-known lines of being abused and mistreated, and then an evil grin overtook his already long, bony face as he changed the words to "Cause I know, that my ears, have been mistreated/Since you forced them to play, I've been losing my mind, you know I have-"
"Yes, yes, I get your point," said Marianne, putting her hand on the guitar to stop him, "and it's clear that you're talented. You just say the word, and you can have the job."
"No thanks. I don't do silly, romantic stuff like weddings. I don't do love, or at least the commercialized love of today."
Marianne gave him a confused look before smiling and saying, "Yes, I feel the same! Normally, I would never do this for a wedding, but she's my only sister, and the guy she's marrying has been her best friend for years, so I know him well. Otherwise, I'd never touch it. I've already decided that I'm not getting married."
"Hmph. Doubtful. Pretty girls like you always do. But all the same, I'm not interested. I have a day job, and I'll stick to that. Good day."
With that, Bog stomped out of the room, grabbing his stuff as he left, leaving Marianne still standing there open-mouthed. When Bog got to the entrance of the coffeehouse, he saw one of her signs. It was then that he realized why every person who owned a guitar had come: she was offering over $750 an hour to play with her, assuming they were willing to learn whatever she asked. It was tempting, but having to answer to her did not appeal to him. He was his own boss, and he planned to keep it that way. He did not need or want her, even if she was attractive, in a small, pixieish way. Besides, he would never see her again.
Marianne left the coffeehouse soon after Bog, ready to punch the lights out of any person who tried to stop her from leaving. The nerve of that guy! And that name. No matter, she would find someone else who was just as talented with voice and guitar. She still had plenty of time to find someone, and she did not need him. She hoped that she would never see him again.
Of course, neither knew that the other was planning to go the local renaissance festival in two weeks on the same day. Which left plenty of time to talk to others about the encounter afterward.
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Author's Notes: Oh, I do love this couple. So much fun to be had while arguing. I know the Sunny and Dawn relationship is skipped over for now, but I promise you'll hear more about it soon. It's appropriately sweet, and involves renaissance festivals. Did I mention that I'm very fond of renaissance festivals? I hope you enjoyed it!
