poly_chromatic | F I V E.

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hemlock grove - roman godfrey

F I V E.

AUDIO;

[A little static. Who knows why it starts quiet. Roman means to make a voice post. Except it comes on out as an a capella cover of a Leonard Cohen song. His voice isn't trained but he can carry a tune a bit more than the master himself. A bit.]

I came upon a butcher,
he was slaughtering a lamb,
I accused him there
with his tortured lamb.
He said, "Listen to me, child,
I am what I am
and you, you are my only son."

Well, I found a silver needle,
I put it into my arm.
It did some good,
did some harm.
But the nights were cold
and it almost kept me warm,
how come the night is long?

I saw some flowers growing up
where that lamb fell down;
was I supposed to praise my Lord,
make some kind of joyful sound?
He said, "Listen, listen to me now,
I go round and round
and you, you are my only child."

Do not leave me now,
do not leave me now,
I'm broken down
from a recent fall.
Blood upon my body
and ice upon my soul,
lead on, my son, it is your world.

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Deep.

[ And kind of creepy, considering what he knows of Roman. ]

[Embarrassing. Also the hell is that supposed to mean? A mock? How much does Peter tell others?]

I'm just trying to find a decent melody, a song that I can sing in my own company.

[Aaaand he gets more singing at people. Woooo....]

This is like the X-Factor curse. I didn't even know this was an option here.

[Yer not faaaaaair.]

I wasn't born with enough middle fingers
I don't need to choose a side

[ ... ]

Do you have to do everything in song?

You'd think that people would have had enought of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.
And what's wrong with that?

[That's a yes.]

[ ... ]

Wow, that's seriously impressive.

Don't check
Just balance on the fence
Don't answer
Don't ask
Don't try and make sense

Don't whisper
Don't talk
Don't run if you can walk
Don't cheat, compete
Don't miss the one beat

[RGHGHN This isn't communicating. He gets frustrated, obviously. BLIP on goes the video feed. Sharpie be his voice now. Scribble, scribble on paper to read. THIS. SUCKS.]

Pity the carolers won't add more gloomy variations to their repertoire.

[............]

Everybody's gotta song to sing
So won't you come now and sing with me
It doesn't really matter where you're from or what you've done
Everybody's gotta story to tell
Times we've tried and times we failed
So when you feel like hope is gone keep holding on
This is your song

[No. No that's not what he had meant to say um sing.]

[Sings a few lines from Judas Priest's "Living After Midnight"]

You have a really good voice, Roman.

Um. Are you okay?

[PENNYYY. Penny who is an open heart and an open ear that has been through her own hardships. Okay. He can talk right he can--not talk.]

Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say.
I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way.
For all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took,
Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?

I'm noooot okaaaay.....

[Penny opens her mouth to answer... and, somewhere, a gentle piano introduction starts playing. She finds herself singing and she's not even cursed.]

I'm sorry that you're not okay
And that you'll be stuck singing for the day
But you can carry a tune
And it'll be over soon
So I don't think you'll scare anyone away.

[Honestly, she thought that the spontaneous musical numbers had left by now! There's nothing to do but keep singing, though. Such is the danger when one comes from a musical universe.]

But I don't get why I have to sing
I don't think that I'm cursed
It must be a catching kind of thing
And it could be so much worse

I hope that my thoughts get through
And that this rushed meter will do
But most importantly
You know I'll always be
Around for you.

[He smiles a little, and full of guilt at that. Who wants to sing? Sheesh.]

I close my eyes when I get too sad
I think thoughts that I know are bad
Close my eyes and I count to ten
Hope it's over when I open them

I want the things that I had before
Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door
I wish I could count to ten
Make everything be wonderful again...

[Is that what you're going to do, Godfrey? Whine in song? Roman shakes his head and rubs his face. Can he text? If he text would it be lyrics? Maybe he'll try texting.]

penny?

testing...

hey Roman. sorry about the random singing there.

are you ok??

hey it's okay

im having a hard time penny

[It is tremendous for him to admit so much.]

whats wrong?? do you want to talk about it?

dont tell anyone

[Does she look like the type? No. Not a bit. But to be perfectly clear...]

ive never spent any holidays away from home no matter how many times i wished i could.

I SWEAR I wont tell.

its hard. but being away from home doesnt mean that you have to be alone. do you have plans for the holidays??

thx

[Because he really means it.]

peter and i are gonna hang out, maybe decorate

last christmases i avoided the parties and shit with my cousin or watched the Snoopy special with my sister

[And this year he has a dead cousin and a missing sister.]

thats something. you can start new party avoiding traditions here.

or maybe its best to not think about traditions here since tradition means doing a thing for years and years and not everyone wants to be here that long.

[Peter decides that singing on the network is cause for concern. Well. More concern than his own inability to get out of the suit he's wearing, anyway.

So, he finds him, and lingers in the doorway, blue eyes looking at him with a raised eyebrow.]

You alright?

[Shee-it. Don't come i--- Roman stands and already is trying to button up his fish lips. Too late. Much too late. Out comes a song just for Peter.]

Clean shirt, new shoes
And I don't know where I am goin' to
Silk suit, black tie,
I don't need a reason why
They come runnin' just as fast as they can
Cause every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

[Peter just stares for the first line, then when he places the song, he can't help the laughter that spills across his lips. Of course, who is mocking who here? It's a little hard to tell, but Peter's smiling.]

This is really a curse that happens? Shit, that's harsh.

[Except he can't help sounding vaguely amused by the whole thing.]

Should I get my guitar?

[Pouty lips press shut. No. No no no. No and no. More no. Roman rubs his cheeks then over his mouth like he could wipe it away. Breathe and then see what happens. Take it slow, he tells himself.]

I got to get away
Feel I got to get away
Oh oh oh yeah~

[And his trap shuts loudly. He's not the blushing type except the skin of his face is feeling pretty hot.]

[Fuck, but this is hilarious. He can't help snickering a little, even as he tries to look sympathetic and fails pretty miserably. He realizes that this shit is gonna get old pretty fucking fast, but for now it's still more amusing than worrisome.

And hey, it takes his mind off of the suit he can't escape from. He had managed to loosen the tie a little, but it's somehow still rather firmly around his neck. He wonders in a little closer and shakes his head a little.]

You're got a pretty nice voice. You should do karaoke with me and Jules sometime.

[He means it, but that doesn't mean he's not snickering.]

[Nonverbal communication is what really expresses the rich brat right now. Roman generously gives Peter the bird. Huff. He crosses his arms and then really takes a look at what Peter's wearing.

Is that tailored? He squints before tugging at the shoulder hem then dusting off both shoulders and smoothing out the fabric. He licks his lips and opens his mouth but then shuts his trap.

Fuck. Fuck this. Oh no. If he can't talk does that mean that Peter's gonna do all the talking?]

[It's not like Peter is particularly mature, sorry to say. He can't help his laughter when Roman flips his off. Oh, come on. It's totally funny. He's totally convinced that a few weeks later this will be funny for the both of them.

This fucking city. You've just gotta... go with it, or whatever. He's stuck in some ridiculous tailored thing, that definitely looks like it belongs on Roman and not on him, but Peter can't seem to get his normal clothes to stay on. Fucking place. It could be worse, he guesses.

He sits next to him, nudging Roman's shoulder with his own.]

At least this shit usually only lasts a day or so?

[Would it be so bad to be in a nice outfit for once? Nice is such a relative term. Roman thinks it is nice. Except he looks like some sort of lawyer. A rebel that likes to keep his face all scruffy and hair wild. That hair gets long, Godfrey fingers combing it back.]

You got bad, bad luck.
Bad, bad luck.

[Oops. He tries to keep the sound down. Roman doesn't believe it is worth hearing more than a few times. Buh. Clearly Peter got the better end of the curse.]

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