Post by Gail Belrose on Jan 14, 2016 18:08:43 GMT -5
((Training for CTP))
It was a good night. That night, she was not just “Gail the code monkey.” On that night, she was Abigail Belrose, daughter of Luis Belrose, and heir to the Belrose Vineyards. Since she had come to Japan to work for Xcution, she had found that, while the distance from daddy dearest was nice, she had also begun to rather miss the comforts of an upper class lifestyle. Sure, going to the club had its own unique charms, and there was a good deal of satisfaction with her job, but it just didn’t fill the same spot in her soul. But that night, she found a way back to the life of luxury, if only for a few dozen minutes.
That night, there was a special guest pianist visiting the local opera house. After being born and raised in Paris, the local opera in Karakura was… well, it was generally dreadful. But for the first time since she had moved here, Gail actually recognized the name of the guest artist. Sviatoslav Richter. He was supposed to be dead, as far as she was aware, but he was widely known to be a virtuoso with the piano. For one night only, he joined the Karakura Orchestra to play a single performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No.2. There was no way that someone with blood as blue as Abigal Belrose could possibly miss this performance.
For such a special occasion, she was dressed to the nines. Even if the rest of the room was probably full of old farts, she didn’t want to appear in just some usual office attire. She had been raised better than that. Instead, she wore a snug-fitting purple dress that plunged down just enough in front to be seductive without being trashy. As form-fitting as it was, of course she had to wear matching heels with it as well. For reasons that most of the old married folks wouldn’t appreciate of course. For accessories, she kept it fairly simple. A gold band on her upper left arm, and a white shawl worn like a cape.
Beneath those designer labeled clothes was a body that made them worth it. Thanks to the snug fit of the dress, and its lack of sleeves or straps, it was plain for all to see that Gail was not your average orchestra attendee. When most think of a fit woman, the word “toned” gets tossed around often. Such a basic description did her no justice. Even through the silken cloth of her dress, one couldn’t find a trace of fat in a place other than her chest. And where there was no dress, there was a form sculpted in a way that would bring the Ancient Greeks to tears.
On that one night, she was Abigail Belrose once more, and she relished every moment of it. When those first chords rang out in the hall, a shiver of exhilaration ran down her spine as goosebumps formed on every inch of her skin. The sheer power of those notes had more emotion and strength in them than a single human should be able to create. Yet just as quickly as that power washed over her, the concerto drifted into the core of Moderato. A melancholy melody that left her grieving the loss of her old life in Paris. As the notes trailed on, it grew out from the somber tone and into an almost playful up-tempo blitz of notes and chords. And with the rising tempo, so too did her spirits rise.
Those feelings were all within the mere first ten minutes of the performance. Rachmaninoff was a masterful composer, and Sviatoslav Richter’s performance left Gail floored despite having heard this piece dozens of times before. As with all good things, it was done far sooner than she hoped. Within what had seemed like a mere moment, they were already in the closing measures of Allegro Scherzando. The piece had built to its flourishing final climax as Richter’s hands danced across the ivory keys… and it was gone. Just like that, it was over.
She left the Karakura Opera House, home to the orchestra as well, without a clue what she should feel. Should she have been happy to have experienced, sad that it reminded her of Paris, or simply full of desire for more. Her eyes turned towards the sky in hopes she could find some sign of answer, but only questions in its place. Afloat in the sky was a harsh reminder that she had left Paris far behind her. That version of her was no more. There was just Gail, code monkey for Xcution left.
Truth be told, maybe that was a good thing, because the thing in the sky was no thing at all. It was a person, and based on the fact that no one was screaming things, it was probably a spirit. As if that night hadn’t been interesting enough with the wonderful concert, Gail now had the rare opportunity to meet another denizen of the afterlife. Well, she hoped that she got to meet him at least. She had no clue how to fly, and she wasn’t about to just yell out in the middle of the street. Then again, the figure in the sky was pretty clearly a guy, and men tended to try at least one cheesy pickup line if they caught her staring with a seductive grin on her face.
Here’s hoping she got caught.
It was a good night. That night, she was not just “Gail the code monkey.” On that night, she was Abigail Belrose, daughter of Luis Belrose, and heir to the Belrose Vineyards. Since she had come to Japan to work for Xcution, she had found that, while the distance from daddy dearest was nice, she had also begun to rather miss the comforts of an upper class lifestyle. Sure, going to the club had its own unique charms, and there was a good deal of satisfaction with her job, but it just didn’t fill the same spot in her soul. But that night, she found a way back to the life of luxury, if only for a few dozen minutes.
That night, there was a special guest pianist visiting the local opera house. After being born and raised in Paris, the local opera in Karakura was… well, it was generally dreadful. But for the first time since she had moved here, Gail actually recognized the name of the guest artist. Sviatoslav Richter. He was supposed to be dead, as far as she was aware, but he was widely known to be a virtuoso with the piano. For one night only, he joined the Karakura Orchestra to play a single performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No.2. There was no way that someone with blood as blue as Abigal Belrose could possibly miss this performance.
For such a special occasion, she was dressed to the nines. Even if the rest of the room was probably full of old farts, she didn’t want to appear in just some usual office attire. She had been raised better than that. Instead, she wore a snug-fitting purple dress that plunged down just enough in front to be seductive without being trashy. As form-fitting as it was, of course she had to wear matching heels with it as well. For reasons that most of the old married folks wouldn’t appreciate of course. For accessories, she kept it fairly simple. A gold band on her upper left arm, and a white shawl worn like a cape.
Beneath those designer labeled clothes was a body that made them worth it. Thanks to the snug fit of the dress, and its lack of sleeves or straps, it was plain for all to see that Gail was not your average orchestra attendee. When most think of a fit woman, the word “toned” gets tossed around often. Such a basic description did her no justice. Even through the silken cloth of her dress, one couldn’t find a trace of fat in a place other than her chest. And where there was no dress, there was a form sculpted in a way that would bring the Ancient Greeks to tears.
{Outfit and Appearance}
{Music}
On that one night, she was Abigail Belrose once more, and she relished every moment of it. When those first chords rang out in the hall, a shiver of exhilaration ran down her spine as goosebumps formed on every inch of her skin. The sheer power of those notes had more emotion and strength in them than a single human should be able to create. Yet just as quickly as that power washed over her, the concerto drifted into the core of Moderato. A melancholy melody that left her grieving the loss of her old life in Paris. As the notes trailed on, it grew out from the somber tone and into an almost playful up-tempo blitz of notes and chords. And with the rising tempo, so too did her spirits rise.
Those feelings were all within the mere first ten minutes of the performance. Rachmaninoff was a masterful composer, and Sviatoslav Richter’s performance left Gail floored despite having heard this piece dozens of times before. As with all good things, it was done far sooner than she hoped. Within what had seemed like a mere moment, they were already in the closing measures of Allegro Scherzando. The piece had built to its flourishing final climax as Richter’s hands danced across the ivory keys… and it was gone. Just like that, it was over.
She left the Karakura Opera House, home to the orchestra as well, without a clue what she should feel. Should she have been happy to have experienced, sad that it reminded her of Paris, or simply full of desire for more. Her eyes turned towards the sky in hopes she could find some sign of answer, but only questions in its place. Afloat in the sky was a harsh reminder that she had left Paris far behind her. That version of her was no more. There was just Gail, code monkey for Xcution left.
Truth be told, maybe that was a good thing, because the thing in the sky was no thing at all. It was a person, and based on the fact that no one was screaming things, it was probably a spirit. As if that night hadn’t been interesting enough with the wonderful concert, Gail now had the rare opportunity to meet another denizen of the afterlife. Well, she hoped that she got to meet him at least. She had no clue how to fly, and she wasn’t about to just yell out in the middle of the street. Then again, the figure in the sky was pretty clearly a guy, and men tended to try at least one cheesy pickup line if they caught her staring with a seductive grin on her face.
Here’s hoping she got caught.
{Stats and Skills}
Stats Strength - [80(120)] Points Speed - [80(100)] Points Spiritual Pressure - [10(5)] Points Reiatsu Strength - [10(5)] Points Light Aura - [50] Points Dark Aura - [50] Points Instinct - [95] Points Senses - [75] Points Energy sensory - [0] Points Healing Expertise - [0] Points Total SP: [350] Points | Skills
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