Music in the Park



yaretzi_icon.jpg charname_icon.jpg

Scene Title Music in the Park
Synopsis Music is the social glue.


Washington Square Park - New York City : The center-point of the New York University campus collective, this pleasant park is home to musicians, poets, lovers, and children. In the southern section of the park Chess players sit on benches throughout the day, matching wits with one another on stone tables. A giant, pebble-stone fountain sprays a geyser of water up high at all hours of the day. It stands in front of the center where two large archway-supports intersect. This marble arch in the Park has always been a symbol of Greenwich Village. This little patch of greensward and concrete is surrounded by NYU, but filled with all sorts of Village characters. Students sit and study, neighbors stroll through on Saturday mornings, out-of-towners gawk at the street-freak performers commanding a crowd from the center of the fountain, and the dog run brings out the animal lovers. On the other end of the park is a small stage where musicians occasionally play for the benefit of any accepting ear. A mime or two might wander about ready to perform their magic for visitors. A small playground is located near the stage. Here children dangle from monkey bars, scream on merry-go-rounds, and giggle on swings.

A gorgeous afternoon in the park. The local college has is hosting a Music in the Park afternoon through the Office of Student Affairs, and student organizations are out and about making good on the draw the event has. There are drum circles, and the college string symphony, and local live rock bands performing, all in different areas of the park, all at the same sound. It is a bright cacophany of sound. In the admist of the ruckus, a short statured young lady walks. Finding some students dancing to the music, she stops to watch.

Another short statured young woman meanders through the different organiations and the musical accompanyments. The woman who is Masquerade-the singer who did 'Tides of the Heart', moves to and frow listening to the bright cacophany of sound. Music some would call it, Euphemia, she called it a lovesong to life.

Euphemia is maybe a fraction of an inch or so over five feet tall without footwear. She's naturally slender and almost unusually petite, with the slightest of curves that mark her body as female. Her skin is the color of light milk chocolate-maybe cocoa,perhaps a little darker. Her face is slightly heart shaped, which allows her hair to frame it, without covering her eyes. Her hair is black, like the dark between the stars.; Her hair is waist-length, and is somewhat wavy towards the outside.In her hair are two braids,the braids themselves are simple twists of long black strands of hair. Her eyes are plain, an average brown, deep and dark.. Her eyebrows are neither too thin nor too thick, but are well defined and slender.Her body is very feminine her thin and slender body has gentle curves and a small bosom.

A blue shirt adorns her torso; the design is somewhat complicated, an inter-linking thread forming a circle. Her low cut hip-hugging jeans are somewhat faded and look slightly worn. The belt is a simple silver chain that loops around and has some extra chain hanging down to create a bit of decoration. The jeans flare out at the bottom, revealing some rather broken in tennis shoes.

Head bobbing to the music, Yare's eyes flick here and there, listening, watching, observing. Spotting the other short female, Yare smiles lightly, eyes averting almost shyly the moment any eye contact is made.

Euphemia catches a glance of the other young woman. She walks over. "Rare to find someone I can make eye contact with." she says sweetly." she keeps her voice even so she can be heard above the gneral din of the place. Euphemia too is listening to the music appreciatively.

Yare's smile is warm, if seemingly timid. She tucks a lock of her own hair behind an ear as she nods. "Ya, I feel so short 'round here," she says with delicate drawl to her voice. She holds out her right hand, offering it, and says, "My name's Yare. It's a pleasure to meet you."

An agreeable nod. "Its easy. I am only five foot, five foot one on a good day." She extned her right hand, and since she's face her this works out. She takes the hand politely, a delicate, but not overy soft grift embraces the young womaan's hand. "Euphe." she says with equally shortened name. "What's Yare, stand for if I can ask?"

"Yaretzi," replies the other chula chapara, giving a hand shake that is practiced if somewhat reserved. In that single word, the drawl is gone, replaced by a beautifully authentic spanish accent.

Euphemia blinks. she's nearly surprised. "Are you an omniglot, miss?" sheasks hearing the spanish accent, completely authentic and aware of it ,arrise from the young woman. " Yaretzi… Interesting name I don't immediately recognize the nationallity. But its a very beautiful name."

A gentle blush blooms across Yare's olive-toned cheeks, and once more her hand comes up to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear. "Omniglot.. Many tongued? Umm.. I can speak multiple languages, yes," Yaretzi seems to stammer a bit under the compliments. "Ah, eh, thank you. It's nahautl; old mexican."

Euphemia nods. "Ahh that's why I didn't recognize it. So is it native south-america." she struggles a moment. "Ahh, to be politically correct when one is trying to be polite.." she coveres her mouth a moment. "But yes, Omiglot is many tongued. It was just such an usual accent, that I figure you must speak sometihng else as your mother tongue or… I am sorry. I should make such assumptions." She moved to sit down on the nearest bench, and adjust her pocket book. "Sorry."

Moving to follow, Yare settles down as well, folding her hands in her lap. "Mexican. It's Native Mexican. My family is from Central Mexico, near Mexico City," she explains softly, accent smoothing back over to mostly midwest neutral with a light touch of southerm drawl. The comment about her accent seems to have make the girl self-conscious, for she's speaking a bit slower than before, and seems to be taking care to pronounce things just so. "My first language is Nahautl.. eh, Spanish, but from Mexico," she adds, because that makes so much sense.

Euphemia nods. "Exactly. It's like my.. family's native… Oh gosh Native American. I am originally from Maryland. And I do have some native American in me, though I don't speak the native tongue…" she seems a bit sad about this it seems. "But the accent is goregous. It gives you an exotic quality."

Again, Yare blushes slightly, lips smiling in that 'please dont look at me' sort of way. "Thank you. Eh, what tribe, do you know?"

Euphemia Shakes her head. "I don't know sadly. It's a bit obscured. I know I've got some native american in me, just not sure who or what. It's not clear… since genetically I have some of the 'markers's. "

Sitting on a bench in the park (No, it's NOT Forrest Gump), are Yaretzi and Euphemia, two young ladies of a height. Around them, a musical fesitval fills the park with various music on thie lovely afternoon. "Oh," Yare replies to her benchpartner. "It's just… I was going to ask, if you were. Navajo, we could.. eh, nevermind."

Reynard moves along the path in the direction of the two young ladies, but his attention is on the nearby stage. He nods slightly with the beat of the music, taking time to enjoy his surroundings.

Question stammered through, Yare is saved by the alarm on her cell phone. She pulls it out and peers at it. With a warm smile, Yare look back at Euphie. "Please excuse me. I have a lecture I need to attended," she says clearly before she stands and turns to go. Her steps are short and quick as she navigates teh crowd, past Reynard, and toward NYU campus.

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