♧ LACKADAISY (PILOT) ♧

♧ Chapter 3: Outside the City ♧

St Louis, Missouri 1927

Amidst the veil of darkness and the chilling whispers of the night, a solitary figure stood the city. The ancient melody of crickets reverberated through the air, intertwining with the ethereal notes of a distant riverboat horn. In this enchanted moment, the world seemed to fade away as if sucked into the void, leaving only the rhythmic dance of nature's symphony.

Nestled within his own little world, swathed in flickering shadows, stood Rocky, the charismatic violinist. His soulful eyes gleamed with unwavering devotion to his craft, as his fingers danced deftly across the strings of his beloved instrument. Each stroke emitted a cascade of enchanting tones that transcended all earthly boundaries, bewitching the hearts of those fortunate enough to witness this arcane performance.

The moon itself seemed to pause, casting a gentle glow upon Rocky as if acknowledging his artistry. It bathed him in a luminescent halo, emphasizing the passion that resided deep within his being. Time, in this spellbinding moment, became but a mere illusion, lost amidst the haunting melody spun by his fingertips.

[Y/N] looked up from her task of shoveling, a perplexed expression crossing her face. "Tell me, was he always like that?" she asked, her voice filled with confusion.

Ivy, with her effortless cool, glanced at Rocky before answering, "Yeah, it's become his usual routine, playing his violin and casting lost poems from his mouth. He's fine."

Freckle, always one to add a touch of enigma, mumbled softly, "Or perhaps... not." [Y/N] sighed and continued shoveling.

As Rocky's bow gracefully glided across the strings, his music conjured vivid images from the realms of fantasy-a whirlwind of color and emotion. It painted a dreamscape, where meandering rivers of iridescent hues flowed through enchanted forests, and mythical creatures danced with grace unparalleled.

"Your umber whiskey waters lance
the prideful, sober sovereignty
of faulty-haloed temperance,
and wilt her self-sure countenance;
Yes, righteousness is vanity. (chuckling)
But sport's for imps, not elderly." Rocky said still in his own little word.

And so, as the world slept beneath a starlit sky, the spellbinding music of the extraordinary violinist echoed through the night-a testament to the power of human expression and the ability to create beauty even in the darkest of moments. Rocky, lost in his own little world, continued to serenade the universe, painting the canvas of existence with his symphony of hope, melancholy, and endless dreams.

"So if there's a name for migrant mass
of veteran frivolity
That snakes through seas of prairie grass
and groves of summer sassafras;
a name that flows as roguishly
as wild waters, fast and free," violin stops
"It's your true name: Mississippi." Ending with a bow.

Ivy cleared her throat dramatically, breaking the exhausting silence. "Ahem! It's abundantly clear! You forgot us down here," she chastised. [Y/N], who had been digging tirelessly, responded with a weary sigh, "Totally..."

Rocky, ever the entertainer, chimed in with a mischievous smile, "Encore? Uh, no encore?" Ivy quickly dismissed the idea, exclaiming, "Please, no. No, that's plenty." [Y/N] nodded in agreement, adding, "Very plenty!" Still digging.

Freckle, always the optimist, tried to reassure everyone, "It's fine. We're fine." [Y/N], now finished with their task, turned towards Freckle and asked, "Alright, I'm done here, Freckle-Calvin... uh, what do you prefer?"

He stumbled over his words before replying, "Ah, uhm. Either would be fine. Ms. Paterson."

Smiling at his response, [Y/N] decided, "Freckle it is... Here, catch!" In a playful gesture, she tossed the shovel over to him but almost stumbled when he tried to catch it mouthing sorry to him.