lifeaftr | Ren On Tour

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Ren On Tour

Who: Ren + her goblin family + YOU
What: Ren's birthday bonanza, first prompt closed to camp BASE, second prompt OTA
When: May 2nd
Where: elf camp in the morning, all over the rest of the day!
Warnings: precious cinnamon raccoon too good for this world, too pure

closed
The hardest part about this morning has been keeping a straight face around Ren, like it's a day like any other, nothing to see here. Like they don't know. How can you not be totally hype about getting to throw a kid's first birthday party ever, especially for this kid? With great difficulty, turns out, and the twins keep throwing each other conspiring glances while everybody goes about their morning routines of pet smooches and breakfast. They are also. Throwing everybody else glances that say don't blow this.

The best part is sending Ren off on some harebrained quest that's just whimsical enough to work. Kravitz has ~~finally~~ decided to pull his weight around here and takes her off to a thrilling game of Hide n Seek: Grim Reaper Edition, while Chara and Seto elect to hover helpfully as the twins do their cooking magics.

Around lunchtime, they've called her back to camp and when she arrives, she'll be greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of a whole entire chicken roasting over the fire. Next to it, there's a real life actual pile of bright and colorful and arcane objects hidden in kitty wrapping paper, ready to be unpacked. There is abso-fucking-lutely a Fantasy German chocolate cake.

And in the middle of it all, two very very proud elves.

OTA, Ren + YOU
Once the goblin festivities have concluded, the twins make sure not to let Ren abscond to some anti-birthday hidey hole. Instead, they parade her around the island like this is Ren On Tour and they're her roadies. For real, actually, because Ren is wearing this bitchin dress and this very special crown. ~~Lup narrowly convinced Taako he can't charge any kind of ticket price no matter what he calls this.~~

Ren On Tour can be found at the temple, at the beach, on the islets, just, all over. Come say hi and ~~ask for autographs~~ give her presents! The twins are hanging back because she's the center of attention, here. But they're there, in the distance, out of the corner of your eye you will spot them. Watching, making sure you treat her right.

Anyone who doesn't have a present may or may not get levitated straight into the ocean.

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Well, she's pre-qualified for this position because she draws dots and cats and all kinds of doodley nonsense on a daily basis. This could work. And even if it couldn't, it's not going to stop her from trying to learn how to read and write music. Just call her Beethovren.

"How many dots mean 'moon'?"

“...not that kinda language, kiddo.” Well, fair. He could’ve worded that better. “There are eight notes, and playing them in different orders makes music.”

He doesn’t have a swelling rendition of “Do, A Deer” on hand, so he’ll have to explain the old fashioned way. And also by leaving out the more complicated asides, like rests and sharps and literally every other part of musical notation.

"Can you all 8? Can you put them on the ground? I can help."

Now we're really getting old fashioned. Flute safely tucked in the crook of her arm, she kneels down and pushes her finger into the dirt. There, a dot. She made music. Hell yeah.

Oh boy. Music is complicated, particularly for kids, and Tim only started learning it properly in college. He breathes out, long and patient, blowing the sweep of his bangs from his face. He keeps forgetting to cut his hair.

If they're gonna do this, they're gonna do it right. He hunkers down in the sand and draws five parallel lines with his finger.

"This is what we call the staff. This is where the notes get written. It's like...the page, and the notes are the letters. When you put enough of them together, you get a tune. If you put enough tunes together, you get a song."

Who could have predicted that Tim would become a part time music teacher after being swept to an island? Sorry, there are no benefits and 401k's are outta the question. This is his new thankless job. And like any good student, she wraps her arms around her knees and watches the little lines form. She can get this language, maybe. At the very least, she's trying to. Using every bit of willpower in her body, she refrains from interrupting and copies the symbols he makes with her own finger.

She can't really read it, but she's listening. Trying. That's for sure.

Tim is relatively positive he's never going to reach an age where he'll need retirement benefits anyway, so as far as he's concerned, this is probably the best he's gonna get.

"When notes go too high or too low, we put a line through them." He imprints a little lump of the circle in the sand beneath the staff, intercutting it with a line. "This note here, this is what we call 'middle c.' It's right in the middle of the scale. You wanna see the fingering?"

Not if Ren has anything to say about it and in fact, she has quite a number 'you will live' statements on the docket. Start petitioning for a retirement fund. He needs to live so that other apocalypse children may learn about staves and middle c's.

Again, she quietly copies the notes with her finger, not fully understanding what they mean, but starting to grasp the general idea and the you wanna- makes her immediately hold the flute up to his level. Yeah, she wanna. Show her right now.

He mimes the fingerings, as though he has a flute of his own with which to demonstrate - the combination of fingers tucked in and held away from the carefully whittled holes in the length of wood he spent hours laboring over.

"Like that. So if you blow on it with your fingers held like that, you'll play a middle C." He's...never done this before. Taught someone how to play an instrument. Can you tell? After a moment's pause, his hands drop, and he glances at her with a sheepish lift to his brows. Doing this birthday thing like a pro, isn't he?

"Uh...let me know if you need...help. I guess."

In the grand scheme of music, this is such a minor accomplishment, but she mimics the way his fingers go over the fake flute on her real one, softly blows into it and-

Well it makes a noise and she's so happy because that's the middle C. It's something she managed to do, thanks to Tim. And she blows into a second time, for good measure. This is awesome.

"I did it! That's a middle c-that's how it sounds."

Her elation is so genuine, so complete, so infectious, that for a moment it catches Tim off guard. It twitches one corner of his mouth upward, a startled, undeniably fond quirk of the lips.

"Hey, yeah. You did it."

He almost reaches out to - to effect some kind of affection gesture he's not sure he can enumerate to himself, like maybe ruffling her hair, something he's not even entirely sure she would enjoy, before thinking better of it, and settling instead for holding up a hand in anticipation for a high-five.

"You're a natural, kid."

With her teacher's approval, she's going to mentally add this to the list of things she can do-find cats, hide, and play a flute. Incredible, what a fantastic skill set. Becoming a flute master is her new life goal.

Has she seen high fives? Probably. Does she recognize when one is coming her way? Not at all. The gesture is met with her own hand, but instead of clapping against it, she grabs hold and doesn't let go. It's like a venus flytrap of affection. This is really his fault, sorry. She's going to cling for awhile unless he shakes her off.

"You're a 'natural' too. Middle c's are your special talent."

Well, it’s possible he should’ve seen that coming. Probable, even. He regard the gesture with a furrowed brow for a moment before figuring, hell, close enough. You did it, kiddo. High five and a handshake wrapped up in one solid, universal gesture. Reinventing social standards, the Ensō way.

“I’d hope so,” he says, a deprecating slant to one side of his mouth. “I studied music in school.”

So far, school sounds like a mystical, magical place where you can learn to sing and dance and play baseball. It was always difficult to tell what went on in those buildings after the world started to decay.

"Does that make you an idol? That kind of thing?" Even if he doesn't sing and dance like Eichi did, music is music. And the idol himself had said they learn their trade at music based schools. It makes sense. "You're a good idol, Tim."

"An idol?" He's completely, blissfully unaware of what idol culture entails, and thus his closest assumption to what she's talking about is something along the lines of American Idol, a show he's never seen a single episode of but at least can vaguely recognize thanks to pop cultural osmosis.

"I don't think I'm a good enough performer for that." His singing voice isn't...terrible, he knows, but it's not what you'd call ideal. "Mostly I just...learned to read music and stuff. How songs are put together. That kinda thing."

"You're good at a lot of things," A man who's able to figure out a child's birthday through whatever verbal witchcraft he employs, someone that manages to find great treasures, the works on creating places that'll make everyone happy, who paints her nails even when he aches and hurts in places she can't see-

He's good at so many things. Why not performing? Taking her eyes off the music lesson, she sets the flute off the side and abruptly stands up, holding both hands back down to him to help pull him up. "We can 'perform' right now. You'll be good at it. I can tell things like that."

“Perform how?” The question should make him nervous, but it’s amazing how much Ren’s perfect lack of self-consciousness is almost contagious. She doesn’t hesitate the way Tim does. Has no problems with getting up and singing just because she can.

He lets her pull him up - lets her, pushing himself with his own lower body strength so she’s not hauling him along of her own accord.

“Yeah? What kinda performance are you thinking?”

"We'll sing and dance together." See? It's simple and easy. And there's no chance of escape because she's clutching his hands as tight as she can. Try to pull away-it's like a venus fly trap. Horrible.

"I can't 'pop pop' like Guzma, but we can spin in circles for a long time." Because despite what the aforementioned dancer said, that is dancing. She would know!! How is twirling in circles for hours not a form of interpretive dance? "Then you'll be an idol. That's how it works."

He sincerely doubts that's actually how it works, but who is he to rain on her birthday parade? It's the kid's birthday. So if she says this is how you get to be an idol, then that's how it shall be. For twenty-four hours, Ren's word is law.

Not that it isn't law anyway. Too many people wanna see her smile for it to be otherwise.

"I got no idea what 'pop pop' is," he says, with a rueful twist to one side of his mouth, "but spinning's easy, I guess."

Blame the late islander Eichi for the confusion. It's really his fault and Ren's rolling with the idol assumption the only way she knows how. By making people, you know, become them with her own warped idea of what it should be. With his hands still in hers, she begins to spin them in a wide circle, if he doesn't stonewall her efforts, going faster and faster because that's the fun of it all. "Pop pop is Guzma's special way of dancing. You should do that with him later."

Later. Not right now. Because she's going to make him spin and spin and spin until they can't do it anymore. What a great day!!

He doesn’t usually...spin, no. He didn’t have much play in him growing up, or at all, really. But it’s the kid’s birthday, so that means he’s more than willing to indulge. He keeps his feet as steady as he can, just so Ren isn’t going flying in the process.

“I didn’t know Guzma liked dancing,” says Tim, not entirely sure what to do with that information. He might actually end up needing to ask him later, just to clarify. What the hell is a “pop pop?”

Please, make Guzma do the 'pop pop' dance again. It's incredible, amazing and could be considered the eighth wonder of the world. "I think he likes it. He's very good at it and he showed me how to do this thing-"

This thing being Ren, standing completely still, letting go of one of Tim's hands and raising the other high in the air, gently grasping at his fingertips. "Now you spin! I'm supposed to twirl you."

"Don't you think I'm a little too tall for that?" Spinning usually requires an arm over a head, and maybe if he knelt...but then, how would he exactly be spinning at that point? Does he look like a breakdancer to you, pal?

He's not even really that tall; it's just that Ren is stupidly tiny because she's a kid.

"How 'bout I twirl you instead, hm?"

Sometimes Tim is a party killer and other times he brings up some valid and great points. It's looking like a combination of the two because while she wants to do a little spin, she wants him to experience this incredible level of twirly fun. She wiggles her hand in the air, considers the [1] option he gives and-

It's not like she'll get any taller on her own, unless the island loses its mind again. So she helpfully offers-"I can stand on a rock and twirl you. Then you can twirl me."

It's a faint thing; a lift to one corner of his mouth, a huff of faintly amused air, something that barely qualifies as a laugh but nonetheless is the closest he gets to one. As if he'd deny Ren anything, on her special day or otherwise.

"Sure, kiddo. Whatever you want." And he means it. If she wants to spin him around, fuck it. Spin him around. He's never in his life made anyone happy the way he seems to be making her happy now, and that kind of joy is - infectious in a way he's never considered.

Hell yes, Tim. Twirling and other related spinning activities are pretty much her only hobbies after hiding in the forest, so he made a wise choice here. He'll learn the art, the method, and will totally impress Guzma with this newfound knowledge one day.

Once he agrees, she moves away to find The Rock or a tree stump or whatever she can find to give herself some height and then holds both arms high in the air, to show that she IS the tallest person now. Come to her. She's Ready. "Okay, now you can grab my hand and I'll spin you for a long time."

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