-- OnE mOrE wIsH / OPEN

[vesper jace monroe]

[shadow=black,left,300] Welcome Home [/shadow]
_{You could've been all I wanted but you weren't honest, now get in the ground You choked off the surest of favours}

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Vesper yawned slightly as he moved, hopping up on the railing along the beach. It was just starting to get dark, and he’d spent the afternoon at Coney Island. When he’d been a kid, he’d never really gone there, simply because his mother was a paranoid woman when it came to anything that involved rides, water slides and zoo animals. Besides that, when he’d lived in New York with her, it had all been about school, and piano. She’d wanted the next Mozart, which meant he really didn’t have a life outside the piano room, unless he was in the classroom. He still preferred the guitar to the piano, and was quite glad she stop forcing the pianist dream on him to let him do his own thing. Not even that, she’d moved him to try and help him get connections to get bigger. Sure, New York was big on music, so was Nashville, but he Dad knew people in L.A. so that was an obvious pick for a few reasons. It had paid out though, look at him now, he was well on his way. Once this break was over, he would be heading out on his first tour… Not his per say, but he was an opening act and was going to try and get his name out then.

He shifted, turning to face the waterfront in front of him, rather then the lights of Coney Island at his back. The ocean was the one thing he found L.A. and New York had in common… He still preferred L.A. but the longer he stayed in New York, the more he was beginning to like the place. He missed surfing, and his L.A. house… The streets and familiar places in L.A. but he was beginning to find friends and a life in New York too, he was pretty sure he was going to feel slightly homesick when he went back home. He’d get over it of course, he still felt that L.A. was home. So much had happened in the few weeks he’d been here that he was surprised his head wasn’t spinning. He sort of had a job… One that he was being paid under the table at, he had his first taste of living on his own (back in L.A. he just had the upper floor as his own), he’d found Carson again and Sabina. He still wasn’t sure to think about that, the fact that there were two people he could just hang out with. Then there was the fact Carson was getting married… Yeesh.

Vesper grimaced slightly, rubbing the back of his head through his half-straightened hair. He’d burned himself that morning with his flat iron. And he hadn’t bothered to use anything on it, so it was starting to curl again, especially after the little drizzle of rain that afternoon. Now it looked more like waves then curls or straight hair. He really hated the whole straight hair thing… Even if it had nearly been two years since he’d started it, under the influence of first his agent and then his manager. He wanted to be in the realm of Coheed and Cambria’s guitarist… Instead he was getting to be a cookie cutter. Fantastic. It did piss Vesper off, but as he’d said many times, he wasn’t about to turn down his one shot at the music world. If he wanted to try and change later when he had a good footing in the music industry, he could do that then. For now he was just trying to play his cards right to get started.

He shifted his weight slightly, brushing his feet through the sand to get better balance on his railing. The railing really had no use, more f a decoration, but Vesper found it comfortable. He rested his chin on the top beam, watching the ocean with tired eyes. He knew he wasn’t sleeping in a proper cycle (that’s what his mother would have called it). He was staying up too late, getting up to early and really had no reason to be doing so. He couldn’t sleep in, and he found himself being kept up at night, the combination of the two was making him very tired, and a little more irritable. He really didn’t know how the partiers did it, stay up all night partying… He couldn’t do it, which was why he was such a dork in highschool. He didn’t party. Now he was testing the waters a little, how could he not when he was working at a club? But he wasn’t sure the scene was for him. He felt like he shouldn’t be there.

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_{Hang on to the glory at my right hand, here laid to rest is our love ever longed With truth on the shores,}

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Cred: Me || Song: Welcome Home, Coheed and Cambria || Words: 778 || Tag: OPEN

[zoey carter harris]

OUTFIT

Ok Zoey wasn’t one of those people who when around carrying a lot of baggage-well not physical baggage- but today she was carrying around three bags –two of which were totes and one was her purse- and not only that she was also carrying around her guitar case. She had been busy since her shift at the hotel started at seven in the morning and it was about dusk now. And it was a hot day to. First she had to work from seven in the morning till two in the afternoon than she had to drive across town to Coney Island to sing for another few hours at some schools beach party or something. So she was right than tired, but was she done yet no. After the dance which ended at about four she had another –smaller- performance thing she did every week she would lay out her guitar case and play for people’s spare change and such.

What really made Zoey’s day even worse was she bumped into her old boyfriend. Not something she felt very comfortable with. “Ya see you around…” She said backing away. And then when she turned around something that could only happen to her happened. She hit some kid with her guitar case and ended up tripping and spilling all her bags and a few of her notebooks fell out of her Beatles bag. “Omygod, I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. “ She told the person she ran into as she rushed to pick up all of her stuff.

[vesper jace monroe]

[shadow=black,left,300] Welcome Home [/shadow]
_{You could've been all I wanted but you weren't honest, now get in the ground You choked off the surest of favours}

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Vesper stifled another yawn, wincing ever so slightly. He really was tired, but he knew that even if he was home and in bed that there would be no easy falling asleep for him. There was too much on his mind, too many things that were bombarding him. He was good at hiding it, good at acting as though nothing was wrong, nothing was bothering him… But there were a lot of things that were, that he was just ignoring. Or trying to. Really he just buried them, stored them for a later date, until he had the time to rant or fix them. Not that the thoughts he had now were fixable. Far from ‘fixable’…. At least at his hands. What was he supposed to do? So he just left them for now, he’d figure it all out later, back when he was in L.A. or when he went on that first tour. Right now he was just trying to enjoy New York. Isn’t that a problem in itself? he reminded himself bitterly, giving his eyes a quick roll. Wasn’t that the truth… But really, to most it wouldn’t have seemed like a problem. But the things he was feeling, the way he was thinking… It was peeling back the skin to let old wounds burn. It was hard, he hated it. But he was still enjoying it… He was suffering through.

He figured it was best to head home. Why? Well just because. It was pretty much almost dark, he had that irrational fear of getting mugged and had walked. It would be a good walk to get home, not one he was overly looking towards. He climbed off his perch, brushing some sand from the bottom curl of his jeans before he side-stepped to get on the path. Only to find someone collide with him from behind. He jumped a little, more out of surprise then an instant fear. He turned around sharply, blinking to see who had bumped into him. It was a girl. One that was younger then him, though he supposed with his current look they could have been mistaken for the same age. He was assuming she was younger. He realized as he eyed the guitar case she was holding that it hadn’t been her that collided with him, she’d just smacked him with her guitar case. At the sight of the instrument her action was instantly forgiven in a biased moment of a musician at heart. She spoke, apologizing before she moved down to pick up an array of things she dropped on her way down. Poor kid. He knew the awkwardness of having a guitar case around all too well. They were a little unorthodox to carry around, if just for the offset weight… Or maybe he was just the fail of the century… That wouldn’t have surprised him either.

“No, it’s fine, I wasn’t watching either. We’re pretty much both to blame on this one.”

[/b] He replied, bending over to help her. He gave her a quick smile, a very classical Vesper smile. Not a full on grin, just the upturn of one side of his lips, a casual half-smile. One his ex had said was really attractive when in the right moment. He didn’t know, it was just how he smiled. He lowered his hazel gaze quickly, reaching forward to scoop up the notebooks that had fallen out of what looked like Beatles tote. He smiled a little to himself in admiration for the girl, she had good taste. He stacked the notebooks on one hand, moving to straighten himself up, offering the books out to her. “The Beatles. Very nice. Musical genius at it’s finest… Or… Well… Maybe that was the drugs. Either way…”[/b] He said, letting a slightly wider smile grace his lips. Okay. There was that inner dork coming out. Normally he wasn’t nearly that chatty, but since the girl had tripped, the inner Italian Gentleman in him burst out in front of that quiet dork. Might as well be polite.


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_{Hang on to the glory at my right hand, here laid to rest is our love ever longed With truth on the shores,}

[/sub][/font][shadow=black,left,300] Here laid to rest [/shadow][/center]

Cred: Me || Song: Welcome Home, Coheed and Cambria || Words: 677 || Tag: OPEN

[zoey carter harris]

“No its my fault. I am a total cults and should know better than talk, carry all this stuff and walk at the same time.” She said returning his smile with just a little laugh. She took the books as he offered them to her. She gave him a thank you smile. She just dumped them into her Beatles Bag. She didn’t feel like reorganizing it again. She had gone through that bag so many times that day she didn’t feel capable of doing it again.

‘The Beatles. Very nice. Musical genius at it’s finest… Or… Well… Maybe that was the drugs. Either way…’ Zoey couldn’t help but laugh at his comment about the drugs. Even if there was no real proof of them taking drugs just about everyone than did both rich and poor. And well its not like it was not hard back a couple years ago. “No I bet they would still be some of the best musicians just about ever right up there with The Rolling Stones and well the Beach Boys but I didn’t and still don’t like the Beach Boys all that much.” She said with a shrug. She didn’t really talk about this kind of stuff every day. After all not many people really listen to any of those bands today. She always had wired taste and music and she loved the music in the sixties. “My dad he and I shared the same taste in music and when I was sixteen my dad actually gave me his old guitar that was signed – and really signed my dad saw them do it-by the Beatles. I swear it cost more than probably everything I own.” She told him with a laugh. But it was true it’s not like she was lying when she told him that.

[vesper jace monroe]

[shadow=black,left,300] Welcome Home [/shadow]
_{You could've been all I wanted but you weren't honest, now get in the ground You choked off the surest of favours}

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Of course the girl argued to who was at fault. Wasn’t that classic. Even if really, Vesper hadn’t been watching, it was true that it was probably more her fault then his. But hey, deep down he was definitely a polite little Italian boy. And it was only natural for him to try and take at least part of the blame. There were some things he put his foot down on, some things he refused to be blamed for. But something as simple as the collision? Yeah, he would try and take some of the blame off her shoulders. It wasn’t that big a deal. And maybe he was making too big a deal out of it, at least mentally. You’re overthinking again Ves.. he mentally scolded, feeling a little odd calling himself Ves. He’d never really gone by Ves, he could count on two fingers how many people called him it. It was odd that he was now referring to himself as that. Was he that lazy? Or did he like the sound of Ves? He had no idea. Maybe he was just going with the flow. “Not so good at the multitasking then?” He asked her, in reply to her mentioning the walking, carrying and talking. He was a good multitasker for the most part, he could do many things at once. Came with his hobbies he supposed.

He watched her dump her books into her bag then smiled slightly at her knowledge of some of the greater bands out there. Sure, the Beatles weren’t his favourite, and neither were the Rolling Stones, but he knew they were musical legends and respected them with a passion only an aspiring musician has. And maybe his father had just raised him on the classics of music. He had the Beatles and AC/DC coming from his father, Mozart and Tchaikovsky on his mother’s side… Then his uncle on his Dad’s side was into the Michael Jackson fan groups. Vesper had been surrounded by so much music in his life it was nuts. In the end, he’d taken a liking to almost everything, he still wasn’t fond of rap, but he dealt with it. Music was in his blood, in the very fabric of how he was raised, and it was nice to meet someone who knew who the Beach Boys were. His age group? Not always so educated in the bands of the legend. Even if she didn’t like them, at least she knew who they were. He still could remember the expression on his face when his little cousin had said he didn’t know who they were. He’d nearly headdesked.

“Signed by the Beatles? Really? For real? That’s so cool.”

[/b] He replied, raising his brows slightly. A signed guitar from the Beatles? That would be worth a lot of money. Heck, if his father owned something like that, he’d never have given it to him. Sure, he’d got the hand-down guitar from musician to child, but it wasn’t signed. Then again… His father was never really the guy who had much interest in Vesper unless he had a guitar in his hands and a record deal in his future. As lame as that was, it was the truth. “My Dad would never give me something like that. Bought me a car, but he’d never give me something like that.”[/b] Okay. So technically Vesper was lying. He hadn’t gotten the car yet. But he was almost there. His father had agreed to paying the insurance and half the amount the car was worth. At the time vesper had his eye on another one, but the new Challenger had long since pushed the other out of his mind. He had a huge savings and would get it soon. Was he spoiled? Perhaps. But he did live just outside Beverly Hills, he had to be spoiled a little, right? And that car was just one more thing. Unlike most though, he did have to work for it too. “I’m Vesper by the way, Vesper Monroe. Before you ask, yes, I am related to Marilyn Monroe. Before you argue, my father was her great nephew and he changed his last from Baker name out of respect for her a few years before I was born.”[/b] He introduced, holding out a hand. Okay. So it was a weird way to introduce himself, but he couldn’t count how many times he’d said ‘I’m Vesper Monroe’ only to have people go ‘omg are you related to Marilyn Monroe?’ and those who knew a lot about the woman would argue, because Monroe was not her real last name. He got tired of people bitching him out.
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_{Hang on to the glory at my right hand, here laid to rest is our love ever longed With truth on the shores,}

[/sub][/font][shadow=black,left,300] Here laid to rest [/shadow][/center]

Cred: Me || Song: Welcome Home, Coheed and Cambria || Words: 782 || Tag: OPEN

[zoey carter harris]

‘Signed by the Beatles? Really? For real? That’s so cool.’ Zoey couldn’t help but smile. Normally people would be like ‘why the hell are you keeping it you should just sell it?’ But Zoey wasn’t like everyone else she liked keeping things that were important to her. Maybe in a few years when she really needs money for college or something she might consider selling it but now there was no need to. ‘My Dad would never give me something like that. Bought me a car, but he’d never give me something like that.’ She let out a laugh. It wasn’t her favorite memory when she was given the guitar. “Ya well my dad used it as a way to break the news to me that he and my mother were getting a divorce and well I haven’t seen him since.” She told him trying to shrug it off even though really she hated her dad for it. Well maybe not hated but strongly disliked. Really she just didn’t care enough to hate him. According to her he was just some guy that her mom got pregnant with his child and who decided to abandon them.

‘I’m Vesper by the way, Vesper Monroe. Before you ask, yes, I am related to Marilyn Monroe. Before you argue, my father was her great nephew and he changed his last from Baker name out of respect for her a few years before I was born.’ Zoey could help but let out a little laugh. It did save her from asking or at least thinking about it they were related. She grasped his hang. “Nice to meet you Vesper Monroe.” She said politly. “My name is Zoey Harris. Um..my father was Brent Harris the not so famous pianist and well that’s just about it with my story other than I am his screwed up daughter and probably the reason he left my mom and me.” She said with a laugh even though she knew it was true.

[vesper jace monroe]

[shadow=black,left,300] Welcome Home [/shadow]
_{You could've been all I wanted but you weren't honest, now get in the ground You choked off the surest of favours}

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What exactly was one supposed to say to someone when they told you that their parents had a divorce? That they hadn’t seen one of the parents since the divorce. Vesper honestly didn’t know, and hated the position. It was guaranteed for his luck if he was to say ‘I’m sorry.’ That they’d reply with ‘I hated him anyway’ and vice versa. Parents were a touchy subject to him, he found that people seemed to be rather defensive about their parents. Then again, others like him had parents that didn’t really care what they did. He’d moved to New York at nineteen and his parents hadn’t cared. He was twenty now, but technically he’d been nineteen during the move. Of course it wasn’t permanent, but the point remained. A lot of people’s parents wouldn’t leave them home alone two weeks at his age, and his parents had let him leave the state. Not that they had a lot to worry about, he was a pretty good kid. “Divorce huh? Sorry, that’s got to suck.”

[/b] He replied, deciding it was better then not replying.

I’d give anything for my parents to get a divorce. He thought bitterly to himself. That would have made life so much easier. No child services, no bruises to explain to the school counsellor… No crying mother every morning growing up. No laying awake at night to listen to him yelling. Yeah. A divorce would have been fantastic for Vesper. Funny how those kids that wouldn’t want one in their life had it happen, and those that wouldn’t mind a divorce didn’t get it. Now, Vesper thought his introduction had been a little odd. Hers made him blink, a puzzled expression making it’s way to his face. She was laughing about breaking up her parents… Was she joking? He assumed she was, but that still seemed like an odd thing to laugh at. But maybe that was just him, he was someone who tended to overthink. A lot.

“Brent Harris? I’ve actually heard of him. My mother used to be a pianist back in her glory days, I was sort of raised on a healthy life of piano.”[/b] He replied. He wasn’t about to say he was a fan, or that knew that much. But he did know the name, it was one of the many his mother had spoken of. Too many in Vesper’s opinion. If she hadn’t put the name to pianist, Vesper probably wouldn’t have recognized it. He gave her hand a shake with a small smile, deciding not to touch her comment further. He wasn’t about to comment about her joke, or the fact she considered herself screwed up. She didn’t seem all that screwed up to him. But then again, what on earth did he know? He pulled his hand back, shoving it into one pocket.

“So what brings you out to Coney Island at sundown?” He asked her, trying to make polite conversation. Well that and he was trying to steer the topic from family and parents. He really didn’t want to focus on that shit, not now, not ever. It was one of those things better left unthought about. He leaned back against the railing, sitting his butt on one of the bars to sit, reaching back to curl one arm over the top board for balance support. “Or well… Not really Coney Island, more the beach. But whatever, what brings you to the beach when it’s getting late?” He corrected, cocking his head to the side.
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_{Hang on to the glory at my right hand, here laid to rest is our love ever longed With truth on the shores,}

[/sub][/font][shadow=black,left,300] Here laid to rest [/shadow][/center]

Cred: Me || Song: Welcome Home, Coheed and Cambria || Words: 591 || Tag: OPEN