Music In The Air

Posted on Thu Nov 23rd, 2023 @ 22:11 by Freya Callaghan MD & Alastair Temple

Chapter: Winter's Crest Festival
Location: Avalon Institute
Timeline: Thursday, December 17th, 1992
3052 words - 6.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Freya had really just got herself settled into her room. It was average sized and honestly would probably do her just fine given the circumstances. To join Avalon felt like an offer that was too good to turn down given what had happened in her previous job and she was glad the Phoebe had stepped in and had the conversation with her.

She was to teach, and biology no less. Guess it fitted with her skillset.

As she took walk around, trying to get her bearings, she could hear faint musical notes. The strumming of a guitar and even the light tones of someone either humming or singing. It hard to make out just now. Freya followed the notes until she came to a larger room that was empty of souls apart from one man. He definitely fit the bill of windswept and interesting from his appearance alone but he was that lost in his music he didn't hear her until she leaned on the door and it creaked as it moved.

The melody was a gentle harmonic ostinato, the melody hummed sweet, but with a sadness to it. Al sat, playing his electric, a custom black Ibanez PL1770. The guitar was well worn, though it still shone. Gold trim, and a shadowy raven on the body, with a few black ravens scattered on the maple neck. He glanced up as he heard the creak, noticing Freya, he gave a nod in greet, though returned to his sombre playing, humming the vocal line. The song, a famous hit from fifteen years prior. Dust in the Wind.

Moving in slowly Freya took up a seat at one of the student desks. One thing she didn't want was to interrupt his beautiful playing. The song niggled at her though, something from her teenage years but she couldn't quite place it. In her mind she kept trying to remember the name, "Dusty Road... no. Dust In The Air... no, that's not it either." she whispered and shook her head a little and focussed on the man playing. He looked a touch familiar as well.

He looked at her again as she spoke, though she spoke softly he had a very good ear. A soft smile, as he sang the words rather than hummed them, now that the song was almost over. "Duuust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind~ Duuust in the wind ... everything is dust in the wind~" and while he wasn't a highly skilled singer by any measure, he could carry a tune due to his musical ear. The final chords played, the melody fading, the final note resounding as the song ended.

He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, seemingly steeling himself, as he set his guitar down before rising from his stool and making his way over to her. "Sorry about that. Today marks the two year anniversary, and I always play this on the date, in their memory. Name's Al. Al Temple," he offered along with his hand in greet.

"I know you... you were in Somnium Tenebris? I think I had a picture of you on my wall..." she said a bit shyly not wanting to insult the man. "Freya Callaghan. It's nice to meet you."

"That's right, I was," his baritone rumbled as he smiled warmly. It was always nice to be recognized. He pulled up a chair to join her. Various instruments were visible around the room. Some percussion - tambourines, triangles, a timpani even. There was an old upright piano that'd obviously seen better days but could still ring out a tune. Some brand new instruments too, an electronic keyboard, an acoustic guitar or two and a basic drum kit - the boxes they came in still strewn across the place. "Nice to meet you, Freya Callaghan. That accent - you from the states?" Al very obviously wasn't.

"Guilty." Freya replied. "Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. Well, just outside the city really." she didn't mention her father being a Senator that was pushing an anti-mutant agenda. She knew he'd take a run at President one day as well and she feared that day in case he came for her. "My ear for accents isn't great though... you don't sound Scottish but there are that many accents in this country I lose track of who's from where. Took me long enough to be able to understand east coast Scottish people..."

"I'm from the middle of Great Britain, forty miles below Birmingham. Charming little village called Snowshill," Al explained, leaning back in his chair. "Though I've been touring so much and living all over the place so my accent doesn't really match the area anymore," he explained. "You new here? I don't remember seeing your name on the teacher roster. Though I could've missed you. I've only arrived a few days ago, myself."

"Ah, well you guys all sound different to me." Freya giggled. "Can't imagine us Americans sound all too different wherever you go... although the South, where I'm from, we sound a lot different from say people from New York, or California." she thought to herself then listened to what else he was saying. "Oh I'm new as well. I just got in today actually. So I guess I start Monday..." she shrugged. "Don't need to ask what you're teaching." she gestured to the room. "Unless you are stealing the teachers equipment." she teased.

Al chuckled. "No, I uh - teach music, as you can guess. That's my personal guitar that I've used on tour for four years, that I was playing when you came in," He'd bought it brand new when the model was first introduced in 1986 and had it customized with special paint. His signature style, he'd call it. It was a gift for himself, a little treat so to say. "And you?"

"Biology." Freya replied. "I'm a doctor so it kinda fits." she smiled at him. "You guitar is pretty cool though. I mean I've seen you on stage once or twice but its different having you sitting in front of me playing it. Almost like a special gig just for me." she blushed a little. "What brought you here? Do you not want to tour anymore?" she asked.

"Robert and Sylvain died two years ago, in a car accident," Al explained. "That was the end of Somnium Tenebris. I - ... well, not to put too fine a point on it, I fell into a depression. Until one day I heard about this place, when it was in the news after the attack. So I decided to turn my life around, to stop feeling sorry for myself and make a new life here. And, well, here I am. What brought you here, Freya?"

"Oh..." Freya placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up. I didn't know." she felt terrible now. Even though it was two years ago she could still see the sadness that lingered in his eyes over the loss and she removed her hand thinking she was maybe getting too familiar. "I'm glad you took a positive step. Takes courage to do that." she reaffirmed his choice even though she didn't really need to. "Phoebe found me hiding. I don't know if you heard about the building collapse in Dundee a while back but I was working in the Royal Victoria hospital at the time and well I used my gifts and got caught... and ran..."

Al smiled softly at the touch. He found a lot of sympathy and understanding here, though her reaction made him think that she at least had some sort of empathy abilities. It fit with being a doctor. "I had heard about that. Big tragedy. I think we played there once at the start of our career? Could be mistaken. So many wounded, so many dead," he placed a hand on hers in a similar gesture of comfort now, letting go after the gentlest of squeezes. "Well, I'm glad someone trustworthy found you. You're safe now. Among allies."

"In Arthurs? Maybe, it was a pretty old place. I think that's why the building collapsed... but yeah, a lot happened." Freya appreciated the comforting hand of Al. "My healing abilities come at a cost at the time and I got sick of all the pain I could see. One of my colleagues found me and, well yeah. Sorry to be a bit of a downer." she smiled a bit weakly. "Need to talk of brighter, nicer things."

"I find that talking about things that bother us helps us deal," Al mused, though his words were followed by a dry chuckle. He'd be the one to say something like that, after secluding himself from most human contact for almost two years after the accident that claimed the lives of his friends and fellow bandmates. It was during that time he realized that he didn't have any other meaningful contacts in his life. His family had cast him out, and though he'd had a few girls, they tended to be groupies just interested in his fame, rather than any relationship potential worthy of that moniker. "What would you like to talk about then?" he asked, having sobered himself up a bit with his internal musings.

"Oh no I am a huge advocate for talk therapy... there is a term called mental health that isn't really being thrown about at the moment but its all too real. Sometimes though being a Debbie downer isn't always the best for boosting those positive vibes." she joked a bit. "But how about we talk about you? You must have so many interesting stories. What got you into music? Why that kind of music? I mean I have so many questions... you're the first famous person I've ever spoken too, unless you count American politicians." she rolled her eyes.

"Well, Robert got me in to music, really. He taught me how to play the guitar, and I spent some time busking to make ends meet," Al mused, half looking at Freya, half staring beyond her, lost in memories. "And I enjoyed it. The intricacies of playing guitar, the challenge of learning to play it well, the audience - I liked it. A lot," he explained. "As for why our kind of music? I'unno really, it just - that was the music that Robert wrote. He always said he got inspiration by walking through the forest at night, and from old legends about cryptids and the like, so that's what he wrote. Dreamy music. And we liked metal, so we combined it."

She got a bit lost in him speaking. Taking in his twirled up moustache was a sight in itself but listening to him talk was almost as good as listening to the music he and his band used to make. It was sad what had happened and that was not in question. To lose such close friends and in the same vein an outlet of sorts, the band, must have been difficult and she couldn't imagine loss on that scale. The only loss she'd suffered in her life was pets, and her great grandmother, Nana Callaghan. A fierce woman if ever there was one.

"I did love a bit of dark eyeliner when I was a teenager." Freya admitted suddenly. "I don't play any instruments, dad wouldn't let me, but the sound of an electric guitar solo always made the hairs on my arms stand up."

"Yeah?" Al smiled. He stood up from his chair and headed back to where he'd left his beloved Ibanez, picking it up again - a hum of resonance emanating from his Fender amp as he turned that on, and clicked a setting on his distortion pedal. He considered his instrument a moment before beginning to play. The sharp, weeping notes of his black raven axe resounding through the space, reverbing off the walls.

It was as if the two became one, the guitar an extension of Alastair, Al an extension of his chosen weapon. All the emotions contained in the tall, complicated man crying out through the weeping notes he played. Bending the strings to his will, it was as if the instrument cried out, singing the emotional melody, as Al played the guitar solo to Hotel California, his eyes closed - he was not there. He was far, far away, in memories, in passion for what he did.

Freya nodded. She had a phase of black eyeliner, dark clothing, a bit of leather here and there when she was a teenager. A rebellious period that wasn't so much her being a rebel but just changing how she looked from the norm and pissing off her teachers at boarding school.

Watching, and listening, to Al play was a treat. How he got lost in his passion, how his hands moved over the strings, he didn't even need to look at what he was doing AND he'd picked an Eagles song. It was even better than she'd thought when he initially picked the guitar up. Hotel California was a classic and listening to the solo made the hairs on her arm rise and a shiver of satisfaction down her spine. A small part of her wished she had that kind of talent musically.

It always felt like a coming down from clouds, waking up into reality after being somewhere else, when he stopped playing. Eyes opening again, and for a moment, he seemed almost confused, like not knowing where he was. Only for a fleeting moment though, and then that moment too was gone, and he was just Al again, in a half furnished classroom in an old castle. Part of him considered for a second the need to soundproof the walls, especially if he was going to start teaching kids the drums. That was always Rob McIntyre's role in the band, but Al could maintain a beat - even with some simple flourishes if need be. Enough to teach a classroom of students the basics of rhythm.

He turned off the amp and set his guitar down again, carefully, treating it with the respect a prized instrument from a washed up rock star deserved. "So, yeah~" he said, somewhat awkwardly. "That's me."

"Oh I think there's more to you than that." Freya smiled warmly at the man as he carefully placed down the guitar almost as lightly as one would a child on the floor. Maybe they were his babies for lack of a better term. Freya had treated a musician once or twice in Dundee. A band bus crash once upon a time where a certain gentleman wouldn't let go of his prized 'lucky' drum sticks for fear of someone stealing them, stealing his talent. "I could listen to you for hours I think, but I don't think the neighbours would thank you for it." she joked.

"Yeah, well, this castle wasn't designed with rock musicians in mind," he chuckled. "I should get with Claire, see if she'll let me install some sound proofing. Anyways, enough about that. What can I do for you, Freya? You must've come here for a reason. Or is this just a social call?"

"I was just out trying to get my bearings a little." Freya replied honestly. "Getting a feel for the place. I'm surprised I've not seen any of the kids yet though. Is it always this quiet?" She asked.

Al shrugged. "I'd been wondering that myself. I only arrived here very recently as well. It's good to see so many new faces though," he smiled. "Seems that maybe this place's newfound fame is doing it some good after all."

For a moment she regarded Al. He was a handsome man, definitely interesting and she was sure he'd have endless stories of his life on the road, but one thing still she felt the need to ask. "If you don't mind me asking, and if its a private thing you can tell me its none of my business, but... do you have abilities? Or are you just sympathetic to mutants?"

"No, I'm a mutant. Through and through. Though I guess I'm lucky in that I can still pass for a normal human," Al offered. "Was kind of a big deal when my abilities manifested. They didn't take too kindly to that in the religious fundamentalist school I went to at the time. Of at home," A pause, considering his life up to this point, the things he'd had to do to survive. "I can turn into a bird. Large one. A raven."

"Wow." She gulped imagining it. The idea of that happening in the school of religious persuasion did maker her smirk internally. "A big raven?" she thought out loud. "You do give off an Edgar Allan Poe vibe so I can see that." Freya couldn't help but smile. "What happens to your..." she pointed at him up and down, "clothes?"

"They drop when and where I change," Al admitted with a slight shrug. "It can be a bit of a struggle getting out of them in raven form. I've been putting bathrobes all over Avalon castle for when I - or any other shifter - needs 'em when changing back to human form."

"Smart." Freya nodded. "I'd imagine running around naked after a change can be quite embarrassing."

"It was, yes. I've had to do it a few times. Fortunately nobody recognized me or it would've been in the newspapers the next day," Al chuckled.

"I bet." Freya laughed as well. "I'll get out of your hair though. I've got a bit more exploring to do and I want to find the library before all the good books are taken. It's been nice meeting Al."

"Very nice meeting you too," Al smiled. And it had been. He liked her, he'd decided.

Freya rose out of the chair and went to leave but for stopped for a moment and turned back. "Don't ever feel like you need to go through things alone. My door is always open if you need someone to talk to, even rant at. Sometimes a good rant is all anyone ever needs." she smiled warmly at him. "I'll see you around." and with that she disappeared off out his door.