Every chapter is gonna be from the perspective of one certain character; I don't know if I'll have any from John's point of view yet. I didn't do that for chapter one, because honestly, does anyone know what's going on in Dad's mind?
This is taking WAY longer to write than I thought it would. Also, holy crap is it difficult to write for Dave.
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Dave: be a Musical Freaking Savant
I sighed. "John, do we really have to do this?"
He narrowed his eyes, leaning so close that his nose was practically touching the camera. "Yes. This is absolutely a thing we are doing."
In another corner of my computer screen, Lalonde smiled gently. "What's the matter, Strider? Can't you... face the music?"
I scoffed. "Please. I can start up sick soundscapes over Skype with the best of them. Wait. No. The best of them is me. I'll jam with myself."
She smirked. I coughed, changing the subject before she could analyze the nonexistent sexual overtones in that last sentence. "Aren't awful puns Egbert's thing, anyway?"
"Oh, whatever! My puns are awesome. Your puns get jealous when my puns walk in the room."
"Guys! Guys, hey!" Harley was bouncing in her seat, eagerly darting her eyes back and forth. "I just realized! We're totally having a jam session! Get it?"
Lalonde raised her eyebrows. "Um, no. Not at all."
"You know, like- maybe later we could all lie down in a pile of-" Harley stopped, looking embarrassed. "Sorry! I guess that part comes later."
Squinting, Egbert grinned. "Jade, what are you even talking about?"
Behind my shades, I could take in all the details, and they wouldn't know if I was staring. For example, on one of the screens I could see Harley, blushing as she tried to backtrack from the confusing claims she'd just tossed out. She was kinda cute, really, with her round glasses and ever-present grin and all. Her shirt had a faded sun on it today, and her hair was draped down her back, nearly reaching the bass guitar leaning against her chair. The rest of the room, I only saw in bits when Harley moved around. Dolls. Flowers. Posters. A... harpoon gun? No, of course not. That's not a thing that any kid has in there room. The Strider shades must've been letting me down.
"Hello? Earth to Strider?" Lalonde was waving at the screen, still wearing that amused half-smirk. Hairband. Purple skull shirt. Violin, balanced on the edge of the desk. Bookshelf. Knitting needles. Dark window.
"Yeah... sorry." I blinked. What was wrong with me? I could barely focus. Couldn't even put together a coherent thought. Weird.
Egbert folded his arms. "It's not too late to bust out your sick turntables, bro."
"What. No. Don't even talk like that." Feeling better. Throw out some jokes. Nothing was wrong. "Besides, the power of the tables is too much for unprepared ears to comprehend. For your own safety, I better stick to the beats for this one."
He gave me what he probably thought was a pleading, puppy-eyes look. "Aw, Dave! Please?" His square glasses slid a bit when he tilted his head, but other than that, he actually looked quite a bit like Jade. An electric keyboard was resting across his desk, jutting out over the edge. Looking past him, all I could see in his room were movie posters. That's it.
"Not gonna happen, bro. I'd much rather listen to the unnatural tunes of your fingers doing bellyflops onto ivory diving boards like so many Olympic metacarpals." Boom. Metaphor complete, confidence back.
"Whoa." Egbert leaned back, obviously overwhelmed by my linguistic maneuvering. Then he grinned. "I'm calling keys 'divory boards' from now on."
My first thought was 'Wow, that's stupid,' and I immediately began thinking of a clever and sarcastic way to say just so. However, I saw Lalonde's condescending head-shake in the corner of the screen, and it gave me pause. Too easy. Not ironic enough. And, Lalonde expected it. Three reasons not to go that route.
So I simply said, "Yes, that's a good idea. You should do that."
I'm surprised her glare didn't burn right through my shades.
Harley was tapping on her screen, wailing impatiently. "Guuuys! Can't we start soon?"
"Yeah, let's do it!" Egbert's fingers were hovering over the keys as he looked at us expectantly. "Everyone's been practicing their part, right?"
"Wait. Parts. I thought I was gonna freestyle this bad boy." Egbert's eye twitched. With a sigh, I decided that there had been enough ironic mind games with Lalonde at his expense. "Kidding. Sorry."
He grinned again. "Whew! That's a relief." Looking down at the keys, he hesitated.
"John? Is something the matter?" Lalonde had her violin perched on her shoulder, balancing like a- no. Metaphors later. Sick beats now.
"Um... I haven't really played for anyone except my dad," he admitted.
"The beats, Egbert. They're calling my name."
He frowned. "Alright already! Just- give me a sec."
"Over and over. Like screaming tween fangirls at a Bieber concert. Except Bieber is me. My name is the one the beat-girls are calling." Okay, just one metaphor.
"Shut up, Dave." He took a deep breath, muttering, "We're making this happen." Slamming his hands down, he started the opening piano riff.
The beginning was fairly simple; Egbert was obviously concentrating more than he had to, barely looking up. After the first couple measures, I brought my hands over my mouth and started beatboxing. The audio wasn't perfect, and it was tough to hear the tinny noise of the keyboard, but we eventually got into a pretty decent sync.
A different noise distracted me, and I nearly lost the rhythm. Harley had started in on the bass, head bobbing in time with the music. I guess I had assumed she would amp it up, but she'd left it acoustic. The bouncing, clipped sound of the strings sounded completely different than I'd pictured it.
It... sounded amazing, actually.
The song moved into its next section, which opened with Egbert playing a bit faster on his own. He seemed to be having a bit more fun, occasionally glancing up and smiling. Harley was just grinning at me like an idiot, and I probably returned a small smile myself. We'd made a pretty good team, after all, and-
I groaned. Lalonde, who hadn't had a part yet, was staring at me. With that same. Freaking. Smirk. Her eyes darted away, and I had no doubt she was giving a similar I-know-your-secret-crush look to Harley.
Wait. Crap. The look didn't- it was more of... whatever.
I threw down a couple faint snare drum effects, leaving the spotlight to Egbert. Harley cheered, actually clapping as he put together a bouncing one-two line in his left hand, while pounding out a bright melody with his right.
With some satisfaction, I noticed Lalonde had missed her cue. Harley looked confused, halfheartedly playing a few notes, but ultimately letting her arms hang. "Hey John; I think we messed up."
It took him a few seconds to notice that everyone had stopped. "Huh?" He looked up, quickly switching from excited to crestfallen. "Oh, man- I'm sorry, guys! I guess I got carried away there."
His downcast eyes and trembling lip reminded me of a sad puppy. Oh. Huh, I guess he finally got that look right. "Yes, Egbert, you were playing the song too well. It's all your fault."
"Strider!" Lalonde scolded. I ignored her. "It's like you were exploring the wilderness or something, but your crew lost the map and got distracted by monkeys. Dancing monkeys, all up in the treetops." Not my best work, but it seemed to cheer him up a little.
Lalonde sighed. "Honestly, Strider, your vernacular isn't nearly as endearing as you think it is."
"Course not. It's even better." What can I say, sometimes she throws me a bone.
Harley squealed, hopping up and down in her seat. "John, that was great! Where'd you find this song again?"
"Oh, you know. The Internet." Egbert grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "So d'you wanna try it again?"
"Yes. Heck yes." I was genuinely curious to hear the rest of the song. "Heck freaking yes." It might have been un-Striderly, but I didn't care.
Lalonde tilted her head to one side. "Are you... censoring your own exclamations?"
"Hey, I'm all about protecting the purity of Egbert's ears."
"Why me? I'm only, like, five months younger than you!" he complained.
"Ugh!" Collectively, the three of us glanced toward Harley, who was spinning in her computer chair and gazing up at the ceiling. "I'm booored! Let's go already!"
"Agreed." Lalonde readjusted the violin's position on her shoulder. "I shall attempt to play my portion without any further mistakes." Like a singing parrot on the shoulder of a sarcastic, passive-aggressive pirate. There's the metaphor I was missing- wait, did Lalonde just apologize?
Egbert readied his fingers again. "Cool. Here we go."
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- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 -
TG: hey egbert
EB: oh, hi dave! what's up?
TG: i just thought i should let you know
TG: you're pretty good at this piano thing
EB: whoa!
EB: is the great dave strider paying me a compliment?
EB: the world could end tomorrow, and i would be satisfied.
TG: does not compute
TG: sarcasm from egbert
TG: what is even happening
EB: haha, yeah! i guess i'm not sarcastic very much.
EB: you and rose have that pretty much covered!
TG: as covered as ice on a lake made of bedsheets
TG: wait no that was dumb
EB: whatever dave! hey, i gotta ask you something
TG: covered as a sniper reading a hardcover book
TG: no thats still awful
EB: just listen! earlier today, you seemed really distracted
EB: and i know when you're being ironic, and when you're really spaced out!
EB: so i guess,
EB: is everything okay?
TG: yeah man its chill
EB: don't even tell me how chill it is!
TG: as a polar bear makin some ice sculptures
EB: dave! i'm serious!
TG: ok fine
TG: i was a little worried that maybe
TG: lalonde somehow knew i arranged the song
TG: by the way thanks for not telling them
EB: well, i didn't lie exactly. i got the song in an email from you.
EB: and that's part of the internet.
EB: i still don't know why you don't want people to know about it!
EB: it's really cool that you can write music so well!
TG: you just dont get it egbert
TG: its part of the strider aura
TG: writing bad music would maybe be ironic
TG: but theres no room in this house for arranging tunes with a violin and a piano
EB: your bro's a DJ, right? how could he not appreciate good music?
TG: well
TG: i didnt exactly tell him either
EB: then i think you're worried over nothing!
EB: or does this have something to do with a certain jade harley?
TG: no
TG: dont even
TG: i will pester you neverending raps about cake
EB: ooh, i'm really scared!
TG: crocker cakes
EB: you monster!
EB: but i'm right, right?
TG: crap egbert
TG: if you tell anyone
EB: don't worry dave! i know i play pranks and stuff, but i always got your back!
EB: and i'm not being ironic when i say that!
TG: youre never being ironic egbert
TG: thats probably why were friends
EB: huh? that doesn't make sense!
TG: nevermind
EB: look, i dunno if jade likes you.
EB: but you're a pretty cool guy!
EB: and mixing music, even if it's not for DJing, that's pretty cool too!
EB: and that's worth telling people about, i think.
TG: thanks
TG: later i guess
-turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:19-
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This was an interesting learning experience for me. Turns out, it is boring as heck to actually describe what music sounds like. Hence, all the dialogue, because that's way more representative of the kids' relationships than a song. Even though the song is awesome, and I love it. Oh well.
Yo reviewers, and people who remember Homestuck better than I did; did John ever meet, over Pesterchum or face-to-face, Sollux Captor? I gotta know. Thanks for your help!