So, I feel like this is somewhat giving up but there are some chapters that I have semi-written but then lost the motivation to complete. I doubt I'll finish all of them, but I decided that I'd post this fragment here since I am certain that I'll never finish it. Wahh. I hate that I don't want to complete this :(
The 20's (not a connected story to the WW1 storyline)
The streets smelled like cheap, wet leather and the scent of cigarettes clung to people's coats. A few automobiles sped past, dew clinging to their tires as they skidded across the street. The shadows had cast a gloom over the sky but the people hadn't allowed that to dim their spirits, flocking to the brightly lit dinner venues to slip into hidden stores and bars. It smelled of excitement but, to Leah, it smelled like home.
She kept her hair carefully combed back under a cloche hat, the rest of her corkscrew curls pluming out from under it, brushing the collar of her coat and under her ears. A clutch was perched in her hand as she walked, holding her chin up as she ignored the glances from the folk as they passed by. A gust a wind rustled her knife-pleated dress, which fluttered around her knees and she tightened her coat around her. Reaching into her clutch, she pulled out a card as she turned down a busy alley, pushing though some people and a few socialists that had been bickering over god-knows-what. Leah had always tried to stay out of the crazy white people's politics. For all she was concerned, the only thing they did was go to war and try to amend some broken constitution.
A man in a slick suit eyed her as she neared him, smoking a cigarette. She flashed him her card and, after a quick glance-over, was let into the venue.
Speakeasies never played anything but jazz, the sound of brass carrying over people's conversations as a piano riff dazzled in between the notes. She tilted her chin down, pursing her lips. People, mostly young women and men, laughed over drinks, smelling of watered down alcohol and the usual works they served. As far as she was concerned, half of the people seemed ossified. Leah was hardly surprised.
"Oh, god, good, you're here," some young man said, reaching over to touch her shoulder to urge her towards the direction of a door. "Look, the next act is almost done. We can just get the stage cleaned and-"
Leah stared at the man in confusion for a moment before her gaze washed over with understanding and clear annoyance.
"I'm no singer, if that's what you're insinuating," she remarked, making sure to not push his hand away. There was no saying what someone like him would do and sometimes folk were awfully touchy about that kind of thing. "I'm in here for the drinks."
He paused, tilting his head forward with a squint. Some of his red curls fell over his forehead. "What-?"
"I said, I'm no singer. Thanks, but you've mistaken me for the wrong person," she responded, tightening her hand on her clutch and drawing her mouth to the side. She looked him over once. "I'm not here to be your entertainment."
"Oh..." Uncomfortably, he shifted, as if he couldn't bring himself to apologize to someone like her in public. "Who let you in?"
"The man at the door. Why? There a problem with that?"
There was a pause in the music as the pianist flipped his music sheet to the next song, getting ready to play again. The man, whom Leah assumed was the manager, glanced at the door before back at her, unsure of what to do.
"Look, I feel bad about it, but we can't-...don't serve your-"
"Can't or wont'?" Leah raised her eyebrows, looking at him expectantly. "I don't see anyone telling that Asian boy over there-" she gestured with her head towards a person at the bar, "-to leave. I have a card to be here. Or do I have to go since I won't sing and perform for you?"
"No-...It's just..." He lowered his voice, leaning in slightly so she could hear him over the crowd of people moving around her. "I have no problem with you being here. It's just the people here that might take offense to it. Look, it's not my jurisdiction to tell them how to feel. But just...try to not cause any trouble."
"Me? Cause trouble?" Leah let out a laugh, sounding incredulous. "I doubt I'm the one that would cause trouble. God, y'all think I'm the one that asks for this."
It was like that every time, people assuming she was some sort of singer when the only song she had ever sung was some hymn to Jesus in church when she was ten. God didn't help her then, though, so she doubted He would help her now. Slipping past him, she seated herself at a table, observing the crowds. No one would ever assume she was not a singer, much less educated, but she didn't care much anymore. No one could really change people's ignorance.
Cheap whisky splashed onto the floor as some girl giggled past, little tassels from shift dress shimmering around her thighs as she walked. Leah looked away, appalled at her immodesty. She had never preached for prudence, but she certainly had never tried to be so indiscreet. Girls, she supposed though, were like that nowadays. It was just the time to have the short skirts and short hair, living life like it was a short fuse ready to fizzle out.
Savannah laughed when a bit of her drink ran down the side of her glass, over one of her fingers, and she grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. In turn, she had to pull away from the person she had been dancing with but he was a little bit boring for her and smelled too much like cheap cologne. Raising the glass to her lips, she smiled into her drink when she sipped appreciatively, scoping out the people there.
Reaching up, she touched her hair, cupping the curls to push them up. She hadn't the heart to cut her hair off for the latest trends, but it was easy to pin her hair up into a curly bob, framing her face and catching everyone's attention as she walked passed. She didn't blame them; she was almost impossible to ignore.
Her mood was considerably lowered when she realized her glass was almost empty, slipping through the people to go back to the bar. A flirty smile rested on her lips and she leaned over the bar, to flag the bartender, who was some nervous looking young man that glanced over her before hurrying to make her drink. On and off, her eyes flickered to the man on the stage that was playing the piano, a woman next to him singing vocals. Now, to her, the Harlem people were just precious, always playing their songs. Her mom always told her to not stay too long in establishments where they let in those type of people to entertain, but by god, she just couldn't get away from the nightlife.
"What a nice night," someone spoke next to her, leaning in a little so he didn't have to speak so loud. "With a bunch of nice people, wouldn't you say?"
Savannah couldn't help a tug of a smile at her lips, glancing over at who had spoken. For some odd reason, she couldn't place his age as if he could have been sixteen or twenty six, with bright, intelligent green eyes and a mirror of a smirk on his mouth as well. He wore a smart, black and green striped bow-tie and a slim cut suit, a little overdressed, but sharp either way. He met her eyes levelly, only a little bit taller than her. Her mother called her height unladylike, but Savannah, who couldn't be concerned in the slightest about 'ladylike-ness', called her height royal.
"It is a nice night," she said and laughed, almost spilling her drink again. "Sorry, I admit I'm a bit spifflicated."
"That's okay. Me too." He smiled along with her, like he had practiced in the mirror, and looked away at the bar. It was quite a nice lie, being drunk, but he hadn't touched a drink. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had bought himself one. "What's a lady like you doing in a place like this?"
"I'm hardly a lady-"
"Then you're even better." Slowly, he held out his hand, his eyes glittering. "Miss-..?"
She extended a hand into his to shake it. "Please, call me Savannah."
"Savannah. What a lovely name," he responded, raising her hand to press his lips to her fingers lightly. "I'm Aspen."
"And I have a feeling you're hardly the gentleman that you try to make others perceive you as," she observed, amused as she pulled her hand back after a moment. "Is that right? I have no time to be ladylike and proper in a time like this."
"Then I like you already." Aspen seemed to relax, loosing his poise and instead looked her over, whether it was to appreciate her or analyze her. His movements were calculated and planned, as if he were doing a routine. "Nice music, isn't it?"
"My mother would condemn it," she stated, setting her drink down to pull out a cigarette. "What a wowser, right? You can imagine why I'm-"
She was interrupted when another girl flitted over to her to grab her arm with a laugh. Her dress strap had fallen off her shoulder and a large shawl was thrown around her arms. From the way Savannah addressed her, Aspen found that her name was Piper.
"God, Savannah," Piper said, moving to drag her away, a cigarette in her fingers. She moved to set it to her lip with a smile, hissing in through her teeth. "What're you doing with a fairy like him? I've got someone to introduce you to. He's big in the stocks, you know. People prophesize that he's gonna be rich."
"Oh?" Savannah raised her eyebrows in interest. "And what's with all the blind dates recently? I'm not here to find a husband, Piper."
"But he's such a gentleman, so I've heard. And not full of all that damned bull like all the other guys." Her eyes were drawn over to the direction of the person she was speaking of. "He's just over there observing. And I'm sure a pretty girl like you could get a chunk of his will, even if he's pretty young. And his name's Alari-"
"Piper." With a bit of a roll of her eyes, Savannah pushed her hand off her arm so she could wipe her mouth carefully to not smudge her lipstick. "That's my ex-fiance's cousin. I can't go for that. Besides, I'm sure I can get any guy I want. I'm allowed to be selective."
"Alright then..." Piper drew back skeptically, looking like she might go and pester others. "Don't regret it, then."
Abel's brother would have remarked that he was too young to wander around the blind tigers and the like, but Abel decided that it wasn't too dangerous as long as he didn't talk to any police and he didn't upset any of the more unsociable fellows that hung around the bar. It wasn't as if he were going to some creep joint, although his brother certainly acted like it, refusing to come along. Their parents would have scorned him as well, but he just wanted to see what the nightlife was all about and the jazz, by god, the jazz.
His mother nearly preached the Klan's views against him, although Abel never understood why. Her husband, their father was an Asian immigrant, was he not? She never ceased to confuse him with her beliefs.
He stood at the bar, angled towards the stage with a non-alcoholic drink in his hand. The idea of alcohol was off-putting but the idea of freedom was easy to get drunk on.
Surprised by the sudden smell of smoke surprised him and he glanced to the side, his eyes tracing some young man with a long cigarette holder, holding it delicately between his fingers. His eyes were sharp, almost smug, and Abel tried to look away before the other knew he was staring.
"You a Jap?" the one with the cigarette said, exhaling a bit of smoke that curled before dissipating in the busy air. "You have that look, you know, and it doesn't look good in a place like this."
"Ah, no, I'm not from there," Abel said in a awkward fashion, "I'm from France."
"But where are you really from?"
"France, I told you." Frowning at the sight of the annoyance on his face, Abel sighed, realizing what he meant. "I'm Korean."
"Korean, huh?" His lips lingered on the word like it was dirty, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You have a Korean name, then? Your English is good."
Abel's eyes flashed, his grip on his drink tightening. "That's because I grew up speaking English."
"Not French?"
"No, I never lear-"
"That's good. One might think your loyalties lie elsewhere, even if we are technically allies. Pity about Korea, though. Aren't all the Gooks under the rule of those damn Japanese?" The young man laughed, glancing down at Abel before inhaling from his cigarette again. "At least I'm not pathetic like that." Extending a free hand towards him, he exhaled. "Sol. I'm a regular. You are?"
Distrustfully, Abel shook his hand slowly before drawing back quickly, which only seemed to elicit satisfaction from Sol. "Abel.
And that's it.
Originally, I had a storyline where I enter in Finn with Aspen and they have good times talking and whatnot. And then Abel would talk with Leah about their annoyance to how the other people view them. I was planning on giving Sol and Kellan some interaction and I didn't have a plan for Savannah and Piper but I hardly plan out most of my stories.
I've had this fragment in my docs since January.