pseudonyms: (Burn down this city and everyone in it)
Rise ♡aggressively friendships♡ Kujikawa ([personal profile] pseudonyms) wrote in [community profile] scramblecrossing2017-05-11 11:09 pm

Where are you now, as I'm swimming through this stereo I'm writing you a symphony of sound

[Childhood wasn't exactly a fun, memorable place for her. It wasn't bad, per se, but it was nothing memorable and certainly nothing she wanted to remember. Her father was a businessman who expected her to be on her best behavior. Her mother was a homemaker, traditional and upright who expected her to be the same.

Rise Kujikawa was a young girl, the only child of this couple, who was raised in a strict household and taught that girls should be raised to be proper and quiet and capable of managing the household so that the husband wouldn't have to. It wasn't that she didn't love her parents, but at the same time it was the kind of love that came out of obligation more than true affection.

Things at school weren't much better. Though she often kept her head down and minded her own business, often times she would find herself at the mercy of other kids and mocked relentlessly for her meek disposition. This carried on for the early years of her life and nothing seemed to change until she was maybe nine years old.

At nine, it was the first time she heard it. It was hard to say what "it" was, but it was definitely something that came through sharp and clear to her in a way she'd never heard before. A steady beat, a rhythm she could pick out, something amateur but still following a pattern. She could never explain it, but hearing it was calming. Being able to hear the snippets of music helped her get through her day even when the days were at its worse. She found herself being scolded more than once for bobbing her head in time with the music and though she was ashamed of herself and couldn't explain why the sound was there, she didn't stop.

It wasn't constant, she found out later. Sometimes the songs would dip out for days or weeks at a time and start up again. Sometimes they would happen at the most inopportune times like when she was taking a test or trying to sleep. Though she would never say so, the soft backbeats and the strings of the violin helped her concentrate and the hum of the rhythm and melody of the piano served as her lullaby for years.

At eleven, one of her relatives decided enough was enough and mousey, shy Rise needed to grow a spine and show the world what she was made of. She never wanted to be a musician. She never wanted to be an idol, someone who was all smiles and cheer and pep, prancing around on stage and in the short skirts and ruffles. And yet, by chance, she knew how to sing. She knew how to sing and found she could dance and by sheer luck she was chosen. She had won. She was selected out of so many other girls to be a pop star and she was afraid to say yes. She had a hand on the phone ready to sneak around her family and say no to the opportunity, duck back into her shy and quiet life when the tune struck up again. Music...made her happy all these years, didn't it? Maybe that was the key to it all.

It was a whirlwind not long after that, meetings and contracts and negotiations and writing an album and choreography. Rise never wrote her own music at first. The label thought she was too young at first and so she was slated to whatever they wanted her to sing. She was young. She was slated to whatever they wanted her to do for promotion. Movies, commercials, public speaking, music videos. She never had a break after that and it suited her just fine. People were excited to speak to her and be around her...but not her.

Risette. That was her name now. Rise Kujikawa got to keep her shy, quiet life but Risette was fun and exciting, selling out concerts left and right as studios fought for rights to her image. This continued day in and day out as she grew. Luckily for her, the sounds in her head also continued day in and day out.

It was only as she grew older and started learning more about sound that she realized, crazy though it seems, the music was coming from someone else. It was an art that was perfected, something that was given the same time and care that she gave her music. More instruments were mixed in as time grew on, and it wasn't until she was thirteen that she first heard a voice.

The vocals were rare, but she could tell that it was a boy. She couldn't say how old he might have been, but he had a bit of a drawling accent to him that made it very distinct. When he sang, it wasn't like her with charismatic energy but little things like he was entertaining one or two people. Later, her mysterious voice would learn the art of rapping and further confuse her, driving her to wish she could change the station.

It never occurred to her that, perhaps, he could hear her, too. She never thought it was a two-way connection, never concerned with possibly being on someone else's mind. She was starting to get burnt out, everything coming to a head even though she has several dates left in her tour, a new movie she has a table-read for and an airline commercial to shoot in three days. Rise was busy, and yet...she wondered.

She was due to go on stage soon and she remained in her dressing room, doing her best to prepare for the show of her life just like every other night. Carefully though, she paused, glancing across the room before getting up and locking it to pace the room. Sometimes if she was lucky, she could get a response. So with the door locked and ten minutes 'til showtime, she closed her eyes and sang a bar of one of her songs, sending out a test to see if she would connect at all. (It was stupid. But it still, somehow, made her feel better all the same. Maybe this would be the day that would prove to her it was all in her head and magic like this wasn't real.)]
parodeity: catrente @ tumblr (TIME 🎧 showdown)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-12 08:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ dave strider grew up in houston, texas, under the questionable care of his bro. there was no real reason for the "training" bro put him through, but maybe bro didn't need a reason. he was the entire damn universe and you didn't argue with the universe. so dave never did. he tried not to think about it, but he could never do anything but. it always seemed like if he just paid attention just a little better, or tried just a little harder, maybe he'd figure out the magic that'd make bro stop, or chill the fuck out. maybe if he could just be whatever it was bro wanted him to be, dave would be left alone for a while. but he was never fast enough or strong enough or good enough and every bruise and cut and broken bone attested to that fact.

when he was a kid, he'd latch onto the times bro wasn't a complete asshole. dave had clothes, and things, and occasionally he had food. he learned to mix at bro's side. bro didn't do a whole lot, but at least he didn't let dave die? granted, he never applied first aid or anything either, but dave was pretty sure if he were legitimately bleeding out bro would probably intervene. maybe.

he tried not to think about it. dave distracted himself with his online friends (didn't have school beyond haphazard homeschooling, really) and music and blogs inbetween the inevitable beatdowns, and it was enough to keep him always occupied. music was always there, weaving in and out, but sometimes he couldn't get back to it for a few days when he lost a strife too bad, or sometimes there were weeks where things were too dire to contemplate something that calmed him dwon and evened him out.

he never got anything back until hew was eleven. it wasn't an immediate realization, although the peppy pop music and the voice in his mind weren't anything he was familiar with, because a lot of the time dave operated on zero sleep and too many nerves. but eventually he realized it was...not him. someone else. some other presence. even with rose and john and jade to speak with through pesterchum having someone other than himself solidly there and connected to him (or nebulously, which was solid enough for dave strider) was almost a relief even though it was completely fucking terrifying. absolutely no one should have to have any sort of connection to dave, even one as apparently innocuous as shared music, and it felt wrong to allow it to be a thing.

it wasn't a thing that he could stop, really, though. even if he stopped doing anything musical for a week, the girl didn't stop singing. and maybe it was nice to have someone since cheesy pop songs at him while he laid on the roof after having his ass kicked, categorizing his wounds and trying to convince himself he did in fact have to stand up and go fix himself up.

dave was never stupid or really ever naive, and while he knew this kind of connection was a thing, he'd never expected to have access to one. if he'd ever thought about it, he'd probably have wished he didn't, to spare the other person the grief. but since he couldn't turn it off, he leaned on the comfort, and if sometimes the music started up during a strife at least he had someone on his side. kind of. or could pretend he did.

he doesn't know the words for a while, but he learns them, because when dave puts in the effort he can be blindingly intelligent. he doesn't tell the others about the music, and he doesn't tell bro, and he doesn't really look into how to find whoever's singing it. but he learns japanese and sometimes he hums the tunes, and eventually he figures out the person with the other half of his mental earbuds is really into "risette", because these are all her songs. it's not really dave's usual genre, but he listens to her new shit anyway and to the constant regular marathons of her tracks, and it's almost like a routine.

rose figures it out eventually. not the music, not risette's biggest fan, but the bro shit. she meddles. dave ends up dragged out of texas and living in new york, and he hates it but she doesn't make him tell the others or explain any of it and at least there's that. she doesn't make him tell her, not really, and neither does her mom. they know, and it sucks, but they don't make him say it. no one attacks him in the middle of the night and they don't make him fight, and they don't take away his sword even though they don't make him fight, and he's twitchy at sixteen but they don't seem to care so it's...okay. it's decent. it's weird living in a place with food and so...much, but.

dave's the one who makes the risette connection, eventually. away from bro he thinks more about the timing, spends more time noting her concerts and wondering if whoever-it-is will go, and realizing exactly when he tends to hear her discography. it could be a fan going to every damn concert or just singing the music religiously every concert, but -

he convinces rose to go to one with him, because maybe that'll help out somehow, and slouching in his seat next to the girl who may as well be his sister dave hears the first bar of one of the songs he by this point knows by heart. so of course he hums back the next bar under his breath, pretending rose won't notice. ]
parodeity: putoshop @ tumblr (ROSE 🎧 plz keep ur tentacles off)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-15 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ of course dave recognizes the backbeat. the thing is, so does rose. dave has never been secretive about his own musical compositions with the others, even if he doesn't post them online so much as he does his stupid webcomic or random blog posts. he shares almost every track he does with the others, flinging music back and forth over the net or more recently letting rose come and sit in his room and listen to his jams. she recognizes the backbeat immediately and dave slouches further in his seat and thanks every god he knows the name of (and a few he makes up on the spot) that she can't hold a conversation with the music blasting.

this won't stop her from talking to him after it stops, of course, but the delay is much appreciated.

the little pieces of his own music in risette's music are obvious to him, and obvious to rose; dave thinks a few of them she doesn't catch because they were scrapped or reworked before he sent them to the others, but she's always been good at reading too much (or just enough) into his reactions and rose probably catches every single one because of it.

at the end, she pounces.

"this explains your sudden desire to see something so "mainstream". were you planning to tell me ever, or to tell her?"

it goes downhill from there, in the sense that dave can only take his motives and life being questioned so much, before he finally agrees what? he didn't actually plan this out, so he ditches rose with the assurance he will "do something". the thing is, what should he even do here? he could just go home and pretend he never confirmed what he confirmed, or he could...

try to convince security people to let him in to see a girl he's never met on something that sounds crazy, or...

or he can do something stupid to get rose off his back. bro's bullshit ninja training isn't good for a lot day to day, but it is good for stupid bullshit ninja skills. so he just has to...locate the superstar, possibly via breaking and entering - okay that's creepy.

why not ask?

it's summer. in new york. but for some reason the only fucking song to come to mind is do you want to build a snowman so he starts to sing that under his breath as he threads through the crowds. it...sort of works, right? ]
parodeity: mrharrisonford @ tumblr (TALK 🎧 or monologue w/e)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-17 12:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's not a no, it's a yes so dave thinks about it and - well, it doesn't have to be a song that already exists, right? he thinks he knows where he's going, but he can give a location at the very least. where's a good place - he doesn't know where she can get to when there's, you know, security and he doesn't think risette is a ninja (she could be a ninja. he doesn't know?) but he shouldn't let probably-risette do all the work here.

so. okay.

a clue, right?

yeah okay. there's one really good descriptor of himself he can do without writing anything, if he just swaps songs. ]

I wear my sunglasses at night...

[ look. how many people wear shades at night? maybe two. ]
parodeity: feastings @ tumblr (PEER 🎧 r u srs)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-18 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[ yeah, that's dave strider. just so totally cool! admittedly he tends to look the part. there's the black skinny jeans and the band t-shirt, for some obscure indie rock group he actually does listen to; a jacket and the shades and red converse. he looks composed, because he usually does at first glance and until people learn to notice he isn't (or unless rose is talking to him, because she's really good at flustering him) even as rise comes to a stop in front of him.

but there's a pause before he speaks, because holy shit he never actually expected to, like, speak to the person on the other end of the line. when he does his voice is a little quiet and monotonous, even and calm with a southern drawl. ]

I got sensitive eyes. [ not a lie. still, he hooks a finger over the top of the frames and drags them down just a hair. red eyes even here, and probably in this universe not so content with bright lights. ]
parodeity: nubbybuns @ tumblr (YO 🎧 you make no sense)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-22 11:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ oh good lord she just got in his space and did that, okay, dave can deal. he'd never actually expected to meet the person on the other end of the line, even when he'd figured out who they were. if rose weren't here, he probably would have simply gone his own way without saying a word, but -

well, she'd responded, hadn't she? in the music. ]

Isn't that a stage name? [ that's what comes out of his mouth before anything else somehow, and dave grimaces. ] Uh, not that you have to say. I'm Dave - Dave Strider?

[ not that she would recognize the name, but. unlike rise, dave's less energetic and cute, but his voice is even and smooth, his nerves harder to see in a different way. ]
parodeity: captaincrapster @ tumblr (HEADPHONES 🎧 listen)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-22 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Kind of? I mean...No offense, but this isn't usually my jam. Which - you know. Not that it isn't catchy and I don't like it -

[ holy shit what is he saying god help him rose help him ]

- but I've been listenin' to it for years and it didn't, uh, occur to me until I really...thought about it, I used to think you were just, you know, a huge fan, learned the lingo so I knew what the hell was bein' sung about, but then I really thought about the dates, and I guess I just wanted to...know. If you were you.
parodeity: (Default)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-26 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
I mean, I learned Japanese so I'd know what I was hearin', but. The rest is accurate.

[ the hand causes a split second's hesitation, but he does reach out and give her his hand: long-fingered and probably rough with sword callouses. ]
parodeity: starrypier @ tumblr (GLANCE 🎧 what's up?)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-28 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
I...not really? I'll be real, I didn't even plan to say a word, but Rose was givin' me a look and she gets bad if you don't listen after she gives you a look.

[ a moment's pause, before he explains: ] My sister. She's...around, somewhere.
parodeity: feastings @ tumblr (TIME 🎧 heart)

[personal profile] parodeity 2017-05-29 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Rise. [ automatically, surprised, as he lets her drag him inside. ]

And no, Rose won't mind, she'll probably just...I have no idea what she will "just", probably prepare a long speech for my return, delivered with an enigmatic smile? I don't try to predict her so much as just roll with it. [ but rise isn't wrong. they may have never met, which was like. #goals, but also #stupid goals. ] long have you been hearin' it? The music.