hadriel_logs | Did You Know Music Affects the Autonomic Nervous System?

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Did You Know Music Affects the Autonomic Nervous System?

Who: Dr. Lee Rosen and [OPEN TO ANYONE]
What: Lee has a harp and he needs to practice.
Where: The park
When: Early March
Warnings: None [Will Change if Needed]

Rosen winced at the discordant sound of an out of tune string. He'd been fiddling with the harp now for the better part of the morning and had tuned it, retuned it, and was in the midst of retuning it a third time. Or was it a fourth? He'd draw the strings taut, tighten them to perfect pitch, then loosen them to start the process over again. Why? It was mostly for the sake of practice. It had been well over a year since he'd personally tuned anything and some part of himself was desperate to prove that he still could. He wanted to remind himself that he had once known the proper pitch ratios and notational increments for harmonic chords.

And he still did.

The mathematics hadn't changed. He could still apply Platonic ratios to his instrument with ease. However, he was now finding that his muscle memory had begun to ossify.

To Lee's displeasure, his fingertips were dark pink and aching already and his knuckles were beginning to shake a bit when he gripped the bridge of the instrument. Clearly his age coupled with his time in incarceration had lost him his callouses and his grip, things that he had built up over years of guitar and piano playing.

After another 15 or 20 minutes of messing with the tuning pegs, Lee finally embarked upon a tune, at first picking out simpler melodies, listening for unwanted twangs in the strings, then slowly building to more complicated songs. Bit by bit, Debussy's "Claire de Lune" emerged from small and hesitant plucks. It was delicate and lovely, but unpolished. Clear that Rosen had not practiced in a long time, and as such his playing lacked confidence.

Still he was happy. His temple only a breath away from the instruments' column, his eyes closed and he relaxed for the first time since he'd arrived in the cave.

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Yukari happened to be strolling by when he heard a faint sound in the distance? Is that a harp? How curious it is to him, and he decides to follow the sound. As he gets closer, he can make out the tune of Clair De Lune, and as he came ever nearer, he saw the image of the man that was playing it. Yukari folds his arms quietly, just listening for a moment, looking back on his own days of instrument practice. How long had it been since he had the pleasure of listening to something so intricate, much less getting a personal concert?

After some time, Yukari decides to make himself known.

"You play rather well. It sounds a little out of practice, but not too much so." He steps himself out of the shade of the nearby tree behind the man. "Did that instrument come with you, or were you lucky to find it lying around somewhere?"

Rosen had not been expecting company and the sudden voice from his left made him jump, sending the instrument slipping forward a bit. In his panicked grab for it, his fingers caught on the strings and he couldn't help but wince at the ungodly discordant sound that followed. Though once he had secured the harp back against his chest he chuckled bashfully, turning to offer the stranger a smile.

"Well thank you," He nodded his head in a small grateful bow. "And no, um, this harp was very kindly lent to me by another. I apologize, I didn't realize anyone else was around, did I disturb you?"

Yukari can't help but chuckle as the man feverishly grabs at the harp to keep it from falling forward. He hadn't actually intended to surprise Rosen, but it was a pleasant bonus.

"I should say not. I was rather fascinated when I heard the melody in the distance and came to inspect it's source. It's certainly a pleasure to hear a skilled hand in this world. How many years have you practiced?"

"Oh I've played many instruments. Primarily the piano, but I've gone through a rotation of stringed instruments for decades. You know, guitars, harps, even a ukulele. Once you know the math its all the same language with strings." He gestured at the harp, "So thats sort of a long way of saying its not my specialty but its familiar to me, like a movie you know you've seen before but maybe you can't remember exactly when you saw it or where. But you still remember the plot and most of the actors' names."

"Do you play?"

"You are well-versed then. How interesting that you base your abilities on the similarities and math of the instruments. I don't think very many think of it in that way. You are certainly rather intelligent to find such a pattern. Have you performed in a concert hall before? Or is this merely a hobby?"

Yukari moves to sit on the bench beside him, taking the sword in its sheath off of his back and setting it to the side of the seat within easy reach.

"Not anymore. I used to play the violin and the piano when I was still a child. Other passions took over when I discovered fencing, though. Although, I still enjoy a beautiful melody when I get to hear it."

"Concert hall? Oh, no. Nothing like that. There are any number of musicians back home who could give me a run for my money." He laughs at himself in self-deprecation. "When I was younger I had hoped that maybe....but...well thats not how things turned out. Now I just play for my own sanity."

Same old story, his grandfather had gone to medical school. His father had gone to medical school. And as such, he had been pegged as a doctor from the moment he first drew breath.

"I've found that once its gotten itself into you, music is impossible to get back out." He smiles then before turning his attention more fully on his company. "May I ask your name?"

"Pity, it seems like that dream would have taken you far. But I suppose not everyone's background can be so lenient as to accommodate their desires, hmm? Was it duty or something else that demanded your attentions foremost?"

Yukari, of course, has never struggled to obtain his desires. His mind was made up in whatever he pursued, damn anyone else's opinions on the matter. And thus had relative ease in obtaining anything he might want. However, he's at least aware that other people feel obligation over passion and are nowhere near as rebellious as he himself is. He sees it as, if there is something in the way, then it must be eliminated. And few see eye to eye with him on that. In fact, many come to despise his views.

Not that any of that bothers him.

"Yes, I suppose you're right - music certainly stays with us, no matter the form. That's a rather philosophical and poetic way to think about it." He sets his elbow on the arm of the bench, resting his chin against back of his hand as he observes Dr. Rosen. "My name is Yukari Mishakuji. Pleasure to meet you. What do they call one such as yourself?"

That question gives Rosen pause. Was it duty? That doesn't quite seem like it. He cants his head to one side, "Expectations, I suppose, if I had to say. My family had expectations of me, then as I grew I began to have expectations of myself. That I should be productive, useful..."

And ambitious. But he doesn't say that.

"A pleasure to meet you, Yukari. I am Dr. Lee Rosen... or just Lee, rather...formalities seem strange in this place." He rubs the heel of his palm against the top of his leg awkwardly. "So what is it you do where you come from?"

"Yes, useful skills are valuable. But one's dreams are moreso. You may have missed out on something entirely beautiful, following only others' expectations of you. Do you ever fantasize how differently your life might have turned out if you had chosen music?"

He gives an airy chuckle when asked about his line of work. Are you sure that's something you want to know the answer to?

"Well, Lee-chan, if you must know - I am a mercenary where I'm from. I served two kings and took down vast armies all on my own." He gives a delighted smirk as he says all of this; the definite sign that he enjoys what he does. He reaches over and pulls the long-bladed sword in front of him. "In fact, it is all I have used Ayamachi for. I do miss those days from home sometimes. Being reduced to just monsters is fairly frustrating. Don't you suppose, Lee-chan?"

Of course, he doesn't take Dr. Lee Rosen for any form of a fighter. The question is more to set the man on edge than anything. After all, he asked didn't he?

"That...," His voice trails a bit at the thought, "...that is not the other life I would fantasize about."

For a moment he is grateful when Yukari changes the subject, but the moment is fleeting and the brief flash of relief is quickly replaced by an odd numbness. A sort of numbness that follows both the horrific and the surreal. The kind that you taste the hint of in a moment of deja vu. The way Yukari's words arrive gleefully and deliberately and the proud way in which he displays his weapon give Rosen a strange and somewhat sickening sense of having been in this moment before. Or a version of it.

Yes. He's been in moments like this before. At the time it wasn't talk of armies, or mercenaries, but Lee had stood in a room as a patient delighted in the chance to describe the way in which he had dispatched of his family. His exact words had been "their skin crackled". Crackled. Like pork or candy wrappers. Such a trivial sounding word for such a horrific act but the young man had savored that description.

And it was now a permanent fixture in Lee's memories.

Through all of this Rosen's face remains devoid of any real emotion. Almost strangely tranquil as though it was a pond long left undisturbed. His professional pokerface. Its been tempered like steel over years of working with the angry, the corrupt, and the violent. He lifts his eyes back up to Yukari, voice steady as he continues as though it was just another conversation. Rosen will not fuel such a fire.

"And how long have you been here?"

Ah, the polite sidestep. Yukari's familiar with those, to the kind of people who hesitate rather than fight for their passion. He could choose to pressure it, since the Doctor is obviously uncomfortable with the subject.

Fortunately, for Dr. Rosen, Yukari's not here to torment, for now. He had honestly come here because he was enticed by the music. If he had intended to start a fight, he would have made that intention perfectly clear near the beginning. Rosen could very well have claimed that music has tamed this savage beast in the moment. So, he'll accept the new inclination.

"Hmm... probably about four months. It hasn't been so bad here at all. I suppose one could call it a different perspective. It's been new and interesting, to say the least. Would one such as yourself find it odd that I would choose here over my homeworld?"

Despite his typical snarkiness, he's said all of that in complete sincerity, with no tint of malice or ulteriour motive.

"No." Rosen's answer is hushed, "Actually I think I would understand, at least a little."

Its a thought he's been grappling with ever since he came to terms with the fact that this cave is neither the workings of some mental instability on his part nor the result of any psychological drug that would have been at the prison's disposal. And while that is some small relief, it is still unnerving to him that he is not more upset about being here. Far removed from his home.

But there it is. There is the rub. There hasn't been a 'home' for a long time now, has there? There had been a house. One that was far too big for just the one, little, old doctor puttering around with his books and his research. And to top it all off, for the better part of the past year, Rosen hadn't even been in his house. He'd been in a cell. In a small white cell being told day after day that everything he thought he knew was just the product of some faulty wiring in his head.

Does he really want to go back?

He tips his head up to meet Yukari's gaze, "would it surprise you that I might feel the same way?"

Yukari actually pauses for a moment, rather impressed that Dr. Lee Rosen would be willing to admit to such a thing. He had only figured the other people here who wouldn't want to return were Curufin and Celebrimbor, if only that Celembrimbor's death awaited him upon return to his world.

Yukari offers a more sincere smile.

"It would, a little. But I would say rather pleasantly so. There are certainly many more here who are trying to seek the way home than escape it."

Yukari rather despises the thought of the Door. He has yet to find it's location, or find any understandable material in destroying any of the deities here.

"Tell me, Lee-chan, what would you do to escape home? To stay here, or travel to another, more wonderful, world? Do you think there are ways to do such?"

Perhaps Yukari has found an ally in his endeavours, though he's certainly testing the waters to see if that's so.

Rosen could've been playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars and Danse still would've been entranced. They still have the radio, there's still songs to be played and hummed along to, but an honest-to-god, actual musical instrument in working order? He's never seen or heard one in the flesh, and that's why when he hears the faint plucking from a distance he immediately sets out down the direction where the tune is coming from.

Nothing but empty houses and streets to see when the first song stopped, and Danse feared that he might've lost his chance. But then the player embarks on another, and Danse picks up the pace, excitement building body with every gentle strum.

He doesn't recognize the songs, but they remind him of that channel on the radio, back in the Capital Wasteland. The woman who broadcasted through it played the violin, and while Danse is a bluegrass fan, on some nights he'd just switch over to the channel just to hear those wonderful melodies; some sweet and lively, some sorrowful and haunting, but all soothing to the soul, a powerful affirmation that there is still hope that not all their history is lost to them. That something as wonderful as music could still link those in the wretched present to a happier, kinder past.

Finally he arrives at the park and sees the old man and his harp. Danse takes a seat nearby and just listens intently, not wanting to break the musician's concentration.

Rosen catches the movement of his new audience out of the corner of his eye and perhaps, if one were listening closely, they might notice a slight falter in his song as he half-wondered if this stranger had decent intentions, but when the man made no move to harass him and instead sits to listen, Rosen contents himself to continue until the end of the melody. Though it is unusual to him to be on display in this manner. He's played music for the better part of his life, but rarely has he ever actually performed for anyone.

Just another fact about living alone, he supposes.

When the song ends, his playing hand drops to his knee while the other rests easily over the bridge of the harp, fingers lightly tapping at the tuning pegs.

"Hello."

He did catch the slight falter, but Danse isn't a musician. When Rosen continues on with his playing, Danse simply thinks that the older man might have nearly forgotten how the next part of the song went. It's quite amazing to Danse that he's able to pluck every note from memory. That from wire and wood, someone could create such a serene, tranquil tune.

He's almost sorry the song has to end.

Danse quickly straightens up (when did he slouch?), looking a little awkward and guilty.

"Sorry. I should've asked if you were alright with me observing your performance, but I didn't want to disturb your concentration."

Rosen's brows raise, the wrinkles of his forehead deepening, as his mouth turns up in a smile that could almost be called impish. This man's slight air of guilt is endearing in a way.

"That is alright. I'm just sorry I didn't give you a better performance. I'm out of practice."

He then holds out his playing hand for a handshake, the other still steadying the instrument, "Lee Rosen. And you are?"

"That was out of practice?" Danse blurts out, completely surprised by that little revelation. Sure there were a few moments where the flow of the song weren't as smooth as it could have been, but to someone who's never seen a live performance, much less heard a harp? Rosen might as well be Mozart.

Ah, but he's being rude. Sheepish once again, he reaches over to shake the other's hand with a firm grip. Danse own hand is rough to the touch, palm covered in callouses built up over years of service to the Brotherhood.

"Sorry. I don't know anything about music. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. My name's Danse."

"I'm afraid it was," Rosen nods shyly before releasing the man's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Danse."

From beneath light lashes, Lee's eyes take in Danse's appearance, the sheepish mannerisms and the polite but humble demeanor.

"If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been in this place, Danse?"

"I don't mind at all. I'm a fairly recent arrival to this city. Without a proper day and night cycle, it's a little hard to tell exactly how long I've been here. But I'd hazard a guess at slightly under a month." Danse answers promptly. "I was brought here with the sharks."

So, lucky enough to have missed an entire year's worth of terrible, traumatising events. Danse doesn't look like he's had it too bad since he's been here; he's used to weathering it out in rougher, nearly inhabitable accommodations in his years of patrolling the DC Wasteland, and then the Commonwealth. Barring some mistletoe the gods haven't been up to any hijinks yet either.

The slight bags underneath his eyes might be telling of some sleep troubles, but otherwise Danse seems to be in good health.

Rosen's brows lift, "Then we arrived at the same time." As he speaks he's examining Danse for signs of injury or poor health. Its instinctive, his mind never really stops trying to analyze and diagnose. He doesn't miss the evidence of poor sleep.

"Have you gotten yourself settled here, Danse?"

He is attempting to approach the question with some diplomacy rather than asking outright. He's found that more forward approaches tend to make people less inclined to answer.

Flick was lured over by the sound of music. It was something he hadn't heard in a long time, if it couldn't fix a water heater or cook than he didn't have use for it. Times had been tough and music was a luxury. He chose to ignore his more recent memory of music, the music had been nice, the memory had not been.

He stayed on the outskirts, listening and watching, a vague memory of a childhood he couldn't quite remember popping and fading just as quickly, like snow melting. Flick was androgynous, and even though he looked about 17, he had strange look to him, as if he was older. Noticing the older man's fingers, Flick stopped watching and strolled over.

"I might be able to help? Your fingers?" He pointed toward them. "Looks like that hurts. It's pretty though."

Rosen lifts his head at the voice. Admittedly he still feels disheartened seeing how many seemingly young people were trapped in this place as well. For that reason there is just a brief flash of melancholy across his face before he replaces it with a gentle smile.

"That is very kind of you." He lets his hands fall from the strings, blinking at them. His knuckles shake a bit as he holds one hand up for examination before his gaze returns Flick. "Might I ask how?"

Flick hated it here. While it was nice that the door or whatever it was had also sent him his partner of over a decade, he would have appreciated the rest of his family. Or, you know, not being taken in the first place. He was tired of being scared all the time, and while he was pretty scared all the time at home, at least there was sky. Freedom. They could move where ever they wanted, just pick up and leave. No such luck here.

He didn't know this man, but he had a good sense about him. He had a nice smile, and Flick wasn't as afraid or angry at humans as the other of his kind here. Some of the humans here were nicer than some of his own kind. He took the man's hand, tracing his fingers with his own smaller hands.

"I can heal. Transfer some of my energy to you to at least take away the pain. I haven't been doing it long, but I think I can help. I've never tried it on a human before. It shouldn't hurt."

Lee's body instinctively stiffens when Flick takes it. The simple truth is that he is a man who is unaccustomed to any physical contact with strangers aside from the formal handshake or a pat on the shoulder when attempting to convey his condolences. Even within his closer circles, a hug is generally met with a board-straight spine and the awkward patting of the other person's back until he is freed from their grip.

Yet another man whose repressed parents raised a repressed child and that child proceeded into a field of work where rigidity and disconnect is almost a requirement.

But nonetheless Rosen is grateful, though his brow furrows with some concern. "Will it hurt you?"

Flick in contrast, was a hugger. Raised by parents he no longer remembered, he could only assume he'd been raised with love and caring, by names and faces he no longer had. He did notice Rosen's body language change and he pulled back his hands, freeing the man.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Flick just sometimes had trouble keeping his hands to himself. It was a Wraeththu trait. "No, it won't hurt me at all. It might make me a little tired if I use too much of my own energy, but I'm getting better at channeling it from this place."

Flick gave the man a small smile, anxious to meet people here who weren't, well, mean. He didn't like this place and he hadn't had good luck with people, either here or back home. His kindness and generosity were too often abused and taken advantage of. "I'm Flick."

Edited (words i can use them) 2017-03-11 18:05 (UTC)

Lee's face turns apologetic, he had hoped that his awkwardness would go unnoticed but alas it rarely does. He tries to ameliorate the situation, raising his hands in a sheepish gesture, "A-ah, no, that is alright. Just an unfortunate habit I'm afraid. Please do not apologize."

He lowers his hands after a moment and straightens, now smiling. "My name is Lee Rosen. It is very nice to meet you, Flick. And that you. for your offer, I mean. It is a rarity to encounter someone so generous with strangers."

"You're welcome, Lee Rosen." Flick wasn't sure which part of his name the man preferred. Would you like me to help? I won't have to touch you." It was easier with, but he could do it without. For such a small wound, it wasn't necessary. It wasn't like Rosen was bleeding out from a head wound or had been stabbed.

"Sometimes I forget not everyone wants to be touched. I'm not used to it." He'd been on the run with his family, with Ulaume for so long, he'd forgotten what it was like to be amongst humans, to be with people who didn't long for touch, who weren't always touchy feely creatures.

"Just 'Lee' is alright," He murmurs quietly, watching Flick with a friendly gaze. He shifts to set aside the harp, bracing it against the back of the bench before he holds up his hand again. "I would be very grateful. And it is alright if you touch, I just am unused to it is all"

He laughs a little at himself, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"So how does it work? Your healing?"

He'd probably get used to it if he was around Flick for very often. Flick had a hard time not touching people. Still, he kept his hands to himself until the gentleman was ready for some healing. He totally understood wanting to know how it worked. Flick wouldn't want healing if he was going to sacrifice people in order to do it.

"Biologically? I'm not sure. My species is pretty new, there's a lot I don't know about my body. But basically, I take some energy, a mix of my own and the energy around us and manipulate it. When I transfer it into you I visualize what I want to happen, and make it happen on a physical level."

"That is miraculous," Rosen stares in awe a moment before blinking back to himself. "And, would you mind my asking what species you are referring to? I-Its just that, well, clearly I must be wrong but I mistook you for a human."

His brows draw together in a bashful expression, Rosen having working himself into a state of fluster.

"It's an easy mistake," Flick replied not at all offended. Unlike Ulaume would have been. Too many hara considered themselves better than what they used to be. "I used to be a human boy. I'm Wraeththu now, we're a hermaphroditic species. There are a few others of my kind here. Humanity on my world was dying. Wraeththu, where ever the first came from, was the answer. "

Flick Believed. Wholeheartedly that Wraeththu were to answer to all of humanities wrongdoings. He believed almost zealously.

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It takes a moment for Rosen to locate who is speaking to him, and his eyes go wide. The creature he see is on par with the talking skeleton in terms of forcing Rosen to question the limits of his sanity. Though, with that in mind, perhaps Rosen owes Sans a favor for easing him in to this world of utterly fantastical beings. Had he not already exchanged puns with a skeleton, Rosen might not have been able to remain calm when confronted with a talking hedgehog.

As such, despite a small hesitation, Rosen is able to reign in his bewilderment enough to put on a polite smile.

"Is, um, is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?"

He isn't sure what else to ask, but it is unlikely he will know any of the melodies that a talking hedgehog might request.

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Rosen's eyes follow Shadow as he leaps from the tree and makes his way in Lee's direction. He has so many questions he wants to ask. For starters, what is he? Secondly, how can he speak? Thirdly, where is he from? And still more. But Rosen restrains himself. He's more than old enough to know that such questions were more cause for offense than they were productive inquiry.

"A surprise..." He thinks it over a moment before raising his fingers back to the strings. Starting with a long trill of notes then moving into a whirling cyclical melody, Rosen ekes Puccini's "Nessun Dorma" from the strings.

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"I'm afraid I'm not," Rosen cants his head in a vaguely apologetic gesture. "I'm a neurologist."

He's found himself unsure about how to answer basic questions in this cave. At home the "what is your name" is easily answered with "Dr. Lee Rosen", but here, introducing himself by his full name and title just seems over-the-top. Then the question "what do you do" equally flusters him. Is 'doctor' sufficient? or should he be more specific?

"And yourself, sir...?"

It isn't often that Beth hears music in this place, not since the gods had turned the tables one month from horror to peace and there'd been strange music everywhere. It's a different thing especially when it's a person playing it rather than the gods.

Finding the man Beth steps close enough to hear his song, not recognising it but enjoying the melody, but decides to wait until he's finished playing before saying anything. She doesn't want to disturb him from his practice.

When his song is complete, Rosen stills the strings with the flat of his hand and he looks up, greeting the stranger with a bit of surprised expression. "Hello there. Are you lost, young lady?"

Young lady. A voice in his head mocks him for his 'doctor voice'. The young Alphas in his care would often tease him, claiming that his 'doctor voice' would inevitably emerge when he was trying to keep a situation calm or, as in this case, when he was addressing someone new.

"Oh..." There's a little surprise, and embarrassment that she'd been caught staring, when Rosen looks up, and Beth gives a little shake of her head.

"No, I was just listening. I haven't really heard music here." At least not anyone playing. Did anyone else have an instrument here? If they did they hadn't been playing them outside.

"It was really good."

"Thank you," His initial surprise eases into a friendly smile and a nod of gratitude.

"What is your name?"

"Beth." She gives him a smile, using the opportunity to step a little closer now that he'd stopped playing.

"Do you play a lot?"

"Its nice to meet you, Beth. I'm Lee." He settles back against the bench once more.

"Not harps, no. In all honesty i'm more of a pianist, but I can't be picky here can I? And this harp was very kindly lent to me." He lifts it then, holding it out to her.

"Do you play? Or would you like to try it?"

There's a gentle shake of her head.

"It's nice just listening. I don't play."

She prefers to look at it, or listen in the case.

"You might be able to get a piano. Delight might like it."

He nods with a smile, settling the instrument back on the bench beside him. "Actually, someone has very kindly offered to make one for me. Isn't that amazing?"

Lee is genuinely excited about the prospect, not only that he will have his instrument of choice, but that it will have been personally made for him. How extraordinary.

"Have you been in this cave a long time, Beth?"

"That's great." She gives him a smile, glad -- and even pleased that he's managed to get something. She was still surprised by what people did for each other here when they had nothing.

"A few months. It's... I've got friends here, it hasn't been too bad." If you don't count the monsters, fear or her friends occasionally dying.

"What about you?"

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Did You Know Music Affects the Autonomic Nervous System?

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AH SORRY I DIDN'T SEE THIS TAG SOMEHOW

No worries!

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No worries! I am being just as slow ^ ^;;; <3 I hope they were good travels

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