open.

[construing]

CHARACTERS: gwen + you
LOCATION: simulation room
DATE: about a week into their return to the station
CONTENT: drummer turns simulation room into a mosh pit
WARNINGS: mention of spiders

Except for a little experiment involving glasses and cutlery, and subsequent idle drumming upon flat surfaces while hanging out at the saloon, Gwen had not sat down to play in months. Even music proved too much of an effort those first weeks aboard the Ximilia. But music was her first love. It was how she processed the world around her. And she missed it.

She made the drum set first. A beautiful five piece, magenta sparkle kit with “The Mary Janes” printed in bold letters on the front of the bass drum. Sitting behind it, looking out into an empty room, though, felt wrong.

She made the bass guitar next, the one Betty always mentioned she would murder a man to get. Keyboard second with the keys that lit up in the color of the rainbow when played for Glory. The electric guitar last, bold and flashy as hell, resting on its stand near the microphone. Em Jay always had to stand out.

In the darkened room, stage lit by lights rigged to nothing, Gwen seemed deaf to everything but her music. From blast beats to make any metal head proud to laidback in the pocket jamming, Gwen slipped into a world where nothing existed but the beat. She wasn’t easy to get the attention of; better luck would be had grabbing any of the instruments and joining in. And for those who prefer listening to playing, there was plenty of space in front of the stage.

After all, action needs an audience.


( ooc: brackets and prose both welcome, I’ll write to match! )

Comments

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt's always got his feelers out for anything melodic around the station. It's a requirement when you're someone always looking for the next big musical fix, that your ear be tuned for any string of sounds, any chord progression. So when he hears the faintest sound of drumming coming from the simulation room, he makes a beeline right for it.

(Much to the displeasure of whatever creatures linger behind his eyes.)

That's drums — yep, he's always liked the thumping, crashing wave that drums provided. The beating heart of a band; you could feel that quaking in your knees, if you picked the perfect spot at the concert. Grinning a little, he enters the simulation room, and leaves Gwen to perform without knowing she has company.

But y'know, Newt's terrible at staying on the sidelines, and he does like the sound. So he wanders on up the stairs and picks up the electric guitar, immediately at ease with the weight. Whelp! Time to play, no reason to dawdle.

So he plays, adding the rambunctious guitar to the drums.]

[construing]

[ more than hearing her own name called, more than yells, gwen's ear, like newt's, is tuned toward music. music is how she processes the world around her. she breathes it. she lives it.

her ears pick up the insistent wail of the electric guitar, and her head pops up to find newt. she huffs a little laugh. clara and river did tell her he played. then shit got in the way; she forgot to reach out. (if she is being honest, she didn't want to. her motivation was on the floor, her interest, her energy.

for the girl who loved music, music was suddenly too much.)

she starts keeping the beat to accompany newt. if she loves playing, she loves playing in a band more. the layering of sound. the collaboration to make something, bigger, better, than its individual parts. there's a "kashmir"-like sound to the new beat, and she segues into it. no way newt doesn't know led zeppelin or she has the right and duty to toss him out the airlock. ]

[groupiedrifter]

[Newt's lived a life of being terribly obnoxious — sometimes purposefully, sometimes not so much (which is the more frustrating moments, because sometimes he really does try his best) — and his music, to some, would fit that obnoxious mold. But for someone like Gwen, it's quite the opposite, and that's a relief. It's easy to get into the familiar old beats because there's no concern for someone to yell for him to be quiet, or log complaints, or tell him he's a pain in the ass. He plays the guitar with particularly skilled fingers for someone who doesn't do it for a living. Definitely the kinda guy who obsessively played for hours on end, year after year.

So he segues into Led Zeppelin with ease, because that song (and so many songs) are burned into his head, brain cataloguing melodies that come back to him like the letters on a periodic chart. It's the best way to forget whatever's frustrating him. It's a good way to get out that bad, delinquent energy that teachers used to warn his father about, even as they slid his perfect report card across the table.

The TL;DR is: Hell yeah!

He feels great.

When the song winds down, he gives an excited little hoot, pointing the end of his guitar at her like it's an oversized finger.]

I knew you were good!

[construing]

[ she is grinning widely by the end, and her smile only grows when she declares: ] I'm fucking great, actually.

[ or mj would have thrown her on her ass years ago. gwen twirls the drumstick in her hand. ]

You're not bad. Were you in a band before chasing the coveted 'doctor' title?

[groupiedrifter]

Oh, a little bit. Mostly in my early teens. But I've done a few fill-ins on the weekends at the local bar or pizza joint. Small favors to friends and stuff.

[He looks amused at the thought.]

To be honest, once I was at MIT, science kinda ate up most of my time, and then the whole war thing happened...

Now that aliens aren't destroying my planet, maybe I should get back into that.

[He plays a little tune at that, admiring the guitar.]

[construing]

[ just aliens vibing in both of them, and somehow venom is the sweet one. #inspirational#anythingispossible ]

I play in a band called The Mary Janes. We got together after high school.

[ technically, during high school under the name murderface (betty's idea, of course). but on the on what was supposed to be their first show, senior prom, the lizard attacked the school. those weeks following peter's death are a haze for gwen; she and the girls didn't get together to play again until months after and then under a brand new name.

gwen fishes in her pocket for her phone. the playlist with their music is the very first in her library. ] That's Em Jay on lead vocals and guitar, Glory on the keyboard and Betty on bass.

[groupiedrifter]

The Mary Janes? Shit, that sounds so punk. I love it.

[He listens with utter fondness, eyebrows raised and ears perked to the sounds that greet them.]

You guys are naturals; you keep that up, you'll be making pretty decent money off big city gigs. You think you'll make a career out of it? Outside of being a super cool superhero type, I mean.

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter is finally out of the infirmary,  shoulder still healing but infection at bay. As long as he doesn't try to lift his left arm over his shoulder, he will be fine. But, unlike Gwen, he can't play any instruments right now. He's always been better at vocals, anyway. 

He had been looking for her all day, carrying around a birthday present wrapped in the most obnoxious paper he could find, aiming to make her smile. Inside there's an iridescent jacket that he thought it would look nice on her. Peter wasn't really in a cheerful mood, he still felt pretty empty after how the mission ended, but when he heard the music coming from the simulation room, Peter was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Now he's close to the front row of the stage, watching Gwen give it all as she plays, feeling as if he's watching a part of her that has been missing until now. For the first time since they came back from the mission, Peter smiles, truly smiles. ]

[construing]

[ peter is not wrong. between finding herself on the ximilia, then the mission, gwen has not had the opportunity to simply be. she did not realize how much she missed this—the familiar feel of the sticks in her hands, the crash of the cymbals, the deep thrum of the drums.

she plays with her earbuds on, covering whatever shuffle spits at her. currently, that's the killers. she plays with incredible timing, she plays with insane kill, but mostly she plays with immense joy. she mouths the lyrics when she's not grinning into the drums.

at the end of the song, she catches the cymbals, and it's then that she notices she is no longer alone. she tugs one of the earbuds out of her ear. ]

Did you escape the infirmary again? [ late, she notices he's holding something. she points to it with a drumstick. ] What's that?

[spacedisaster]

[ In the past, some people had given Peter a lot of flak for enjoying singing and dancing, but music and the arts had a magic effect on people. In Peter's opinion, they bring out the best in them, and he's happy to see this side of Gwen. That is, until she stops and immediately scolds him. ]

Would I be here if I were hiding from McCoy?

[ Yes, he probably would. But this time he was released from the infirmary, so he's not hiding like the other four times. It's really a shame she stopped because Peter was really enjoying the songs, she's got a lot of talent with the drums. ]

What does it look like? A present, d'uh. [ Peter approaches the stage and then throws the present at her for Gwen to catch it. ] Happy belated birthday.

[construing]

[ yes. yes, he would. luckily, the idea of birthday presents is an incredible distractor. ]

You did not. [ gwen does not realize her mouth was open until she claps it shut. she laughs in surprise. she gets up a little dazed. ]

Peter!

[ she pronounces his name half in disbelief, half in excitement. reaching him, she reaches for the present, laughing louder when she sees the wrapping paper. ]

E.T, really? What the hell, man? When did you even have time to do this?

[ she can feel the bite of tears at her eyes. gwen blinks them away. she holds the present up to her ear first, then squeezes it experimentally through the paper. it feels…weird. soft. she looks up at him. a grin she cannot control splits her face. ]

What'd you get me?

[spacedisaster]

Yes, yes I did. Enjoy. [ There's something to be said about how easily humans are often distracted by a Shiny Box. Right now, it's utterly amusing, and very adorable, how enthusiastic she is about the preset. ]

E.T is a classic, and I'll hear no criticism about it. [ He reaches out with his index finger, much in the same way E.T. did in the movie, and then boops her on the nose. He makes no comment about how Gwen's eyes look brighter than before, and tries not to think about how long it has been since she was given a present. ]

I found time. [ He had to put in a quick request for the next supply drop so she could give her the right present, and he's relieved that it didn't take long to get it. The silly paper was a plus. ] A new, shiny car, obviously. [ Peter raises his eyebrow,s giving her a 'duh' face. ] I won't ruin the surprise by telling you. Come on, open it.

[construing]

[ scrunching her nose, gwen squirms away from all booping. she has half a mind to tear the wrapping paper, but it's just heinous enough to be cute. instead, she carefully lifts the tape to open the paper and pull out— ]

Are you shitting me?

[ the jacket in her hands slid in on its socks all the way from the 80s. she turns it in her hands to catch the iridescence. grinning widely, she unzips her own hoodie and quickly tries on the new jacket. not too big, not too small, it fits her just right. gwen admires her shiny blue sleeves, the pastel rainbow stripes.

when she looks up again, her eyes are brimming with tears. ]

You're the worst. [ the claim would be a little more convincing if, immediately after speaking, she had not wrapped her arms around peter's waist in a tight hug. ]

ITACHI.

[construing]

[ at first glance, the blonde girl in the iridescent jacket seems to have skipped out on the obligatory compalions.

she kneels at the base of one of the statues in the courtyard, digging in the slender ring of earth around it for…something. she scoops some more earth in the growing pile beside her, then shoves her arm under the statue, groping in the small hole she made. ]

You got it? [ a second passes before she responds brightly, ] Okay, bring it up!

[ she unearths a small enamel box, covered in black cods of earth. strangely, some of the clods are moving and closer examination reveals these for spiders. they move onto her hands as gwen sets the box on her lap, brushing it clean of dirt. ]

All right, next clue. And I didn't even have to move the statue.

[ she looks up, not surprised to find someone else no matter how quiet itachi may have been. ]

Oh, hey, jail guy. [ she presses her lips together in a little smile. ] Looking for the fake orb?

that jacket walked out of '85 and punched me directly in the teeth

[blackfire]

（ as one common tenet of their missions thus far has been teamwork, he does not shy away from approaching gwen. even if she hadn't been one of the handful of people on the last mission who — like him — preferred to imprison rather than kill the bouldersnakes, he has seen enough of her in that vague, peripheral sense that one gleans through a small population in close quarters to respect her abilities.

his little black cat compalion has trotted up to gwen with her tail aloft, stopping just far enough away to be out of reach and sat down. her red eyes are focused on the swarm of spiders, curiously aloof in the manner of cats. ）

Yes.

（ there are other mission objectives one can be assigned, of course, but it seems theirs align. ）

I have not been in the simulation long. What have you learned?

exactly as peter intended

[construing]

So far, I've been getting escape room vibes. Clues are scattered throughout the campus. Unsure if that clock, [ she tips her chin up to the clocktower, towering above everything else, ] means we've got a time limit. Though it would fit the general theme.

[ the theme here being "fuck the orbers."

gwen finishes cleaning off the box as well as she's able, and shifts to sit cross-legged. carefully, she slits the box open. the interior is gold, the top inlaid with a mirror. nestled inside is a small golden key on a purple ribbon. ]

Guess we now have to figure out what this opens. [ she holds it out for itachi to examine. the cat gets a pstpst, "hi, kitty."

speaking normally, she continues, ] There's probably a clue on it. [ she eyes the box in her hands. ] Or the box.

peter is here to live his best pat benetar life

[blackfire]

（ he's saved from having to ask what an 'escape room' is by the various contextual clues she follows it up with — thanks gwen, a true team player — and when she holds the key out, he takes it delicately. he turns it over in his hands, carefully feeling along the edges in case anything is concealed. the sharingan reveals nothing, no fine details invisible to the naked eye.

(the cat, once pstpst'd at, gives gwen a Look that clearly conveys that she is far, far too cool to be lured in by such banal tactics. instead, she licks delicately at a paw and starts grooming herself.

perhaps, if gwen were to try petting that one particular spot she can't quite reach... we ignore phillip pullman's daemon rules about touching in this house thank u.)

itachi doesn't so much as spare a glance for the cat, who seems equally intent on giving him the selfsame treatment. itachi has preferred the company of animals as far back as he can remember, the cat unsettles him for reasons he hasn't attempted to articulate

(spoiler: it's the self-hatred)

— and instead, with a glance back to the box gwen still holds: ）

If these animals are meant to represent a part of ourselves, perhaps the mirror has some significance to that bond. The key could be functional or metaphoric.

[construing]

[ queens native gwen stacy knows and has greatly missed bodega cats. respectfully not touching the cat anywhere else, she gets the spot on its back. ]

Might be.

[ despite her time limit hypothesis, gwen is in no hurry. the benefits of this being a game. were betty here, the vibe would be completely different. gwen still isn't convinced betty wasn't lying when she said they weren't banned from that escape room in the city. she lives life excited. gwen sometimes needs to remind herself there are things she enjoys.

and she has been enjoying herself, strangely enough. just a girl, her alien goo, and her new also spider-shaped compalion: a tiny creature dwarfed by each individual spider that is venom. yet it fearlessly got to working with the symbiote, and venom stopped trying to eat it a while back. small wonders. it clings to the inside of gwen's hood with venom, content in company.

when gwen raises the mirror, she sees herself: blue eyes, shaggy blonde hair, face a little thinner after scorpion's bend, but spared the worst of the hunger thanks to her additional rations. venom climbs down her hair to settle on her cheek. she cannot separate the compalion, but she knows when it is present: the reflection behind her shifts to a magnificent room lit softly orange. gwen looks behind her to verify, but the change is only in the mirror. ]

Yeah, there's another clue in the mirror. You can test it if you want. [ she offers itachi the box. ] I think you both have to be reflected, but the background changes. Looks like a grand old room with a fireplace so probably not one of the classrooms. An office, maybe? [ she muses out loud. ] Since we're at a school, I'm betting the dean's.

[blackfire]

（ the cat does arch just a little into her touch, the pleased thrum of a brief purr — an ugly and clearly unpracticed noise, like the choking cough of a bad engine turning over — reverberating in her tiny form. can animals be touch-starved? she certainly seems so, because that first contact seems to have sparked the realization that it's actually a nice sensation after all. whenever gwen takes her hand away, the cat doesn't do anything so undignified as follow her, but she does sit with her tail swishing in feline frustration at the cessation.

itachi sits seiza opposite gwen and takes the box from her with the same ginger care as before, and to his compalion — ）

Cat — come.

（ she looks like she might ignore him, and then she stands properly and with her tail ramrod straight in the air she goes to sit beside him, not any more interested in touching him than he is her. he angles the mirror properly to capture them both, and spends a moment studying the shift. there's a window in the background as well, with a partial view of the mountains that bracket the campus. the image seems static — there is a grandfather clock in one corner frozen with its hands at 7:22, and the shadows in the room suggest dawn rather than dusk given the simulation's parameters and its compass points. ）

I believe the room faces east. On the third or fourth floor.

（ which is a start — but there are still hundreds of east-facing rooms. even if they can narrow it down by the view through the window, they will need a better method for pinpointing it exactly. ）

[calmness]

[in all fairness, this is not the worst of modern songs that xichen has heard. it's not amongst the list of things he would add to his own modern music playlist, no, but he would not automatically skip it either.

if only for the fact that he can see how much gwen enjoys the music, how it seems to soothe her in a way he knows music does him.

so he is here in support, finds himself nodding along to the beat eventually which should be seen as a victory in and of itself. take that win, gwen. when the music winds down, he lifts his hands to clap. it's even more enthusiastic than a polite, golf clap saved for formal events. victories all around!]

[construing]

[ her head snaps over in surprise. it's not often that something manages to get past spider-sense (unless spider-sense happens to be in its blue period), but she was so submerged in her playing she took no notice of xichen's presence. as soon as she notices who it is, however, and especially when she notices him clapping, her face splits in a wide grin. ]

Hey!

[ twirling a stick in her hand, she opens her arms wide to encompass the whole of the drum kit. ]

So, this is what I usually play! [ she laughs. ]

[calmness]

I can see that. [he offers a fond smile, dipping his head slightly in way of greeting. he winds down his clapping, instead dropping his hands back to his lap.

he tilts his head.] What is the song you were playing called? [maybe, just maybe, you have a new fan of it!]

[construing]

"State of Grace" by Taylor Swift.

[ she removes the earbuds from the phone and holds it out for xichen to take. the song issues from the speaker, easily recognizable from gwen's playing. ]

She's my favorite artist bar none, [ she says, tapping the drums along with the music. she can no more help herself than the sun can stop setting. ] I have her albums on vinyl back home.

When she was doing her Red tour, I begged and cried and promised my dad I'd do all the house chores until eternity if I could go to the show.

[calmness]

[sharing earbuds seems very personal and unhygienic, gwen, so xichen only lifts it close to his ear to listen to the tune.

and he appreciates the enthusiasm she shows, even if it all goes over his head. he does understand the bond shared between parent and child, even if his own sentiments lie with his own uncle and no one would be able to convince lan qiren of such feats.] How long did you do the chores for in the end? [he tilts his head, amused. ]

[construing]

A day. [ she shrugs, and smiles. three guesses which is the only child here, and the first two don't count. ]

I think he mostly let me just to see how far I was willing to go. He did pull me off the ladder when I was about to clean out the rain gutters. Said I'd fall and crack my head open.

[ this last part she voices with a private amusement. she was not spider-woman then, but. it's still fucking funny. ]