Realistic or Modern — 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤

[boo.]

yasmin.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  my life is a disaster
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  baggy graphic t-shirt tucked into a pair of loose jeans, white sneakers, tears
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  lost on the streets of vienna
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  artemis.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

This was a new life that Yasmin had been chasing for what seemed like her entire life. Of course, she’d never once considered as a child learning her first notes on the cello that she’d land a solo concert schedule in Vienna, the music capital of the world, at the age of twenty-four. Moving out of her parents’ house was one thing; moving to another continent, another language, another culture was another entirely. Exciting, of course, but mostly frightening, overwhelming, and quite honestly exhausting. There was housing to organize, recording arrangements to sort out, and German to learn (that last one was pushed off until two days ago, which was a massive mistake, Yasmin realized).

Vienna was one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and she was missing it. Head down, eyes glued to the tiny map on her phone that refused to show her location. Hardly had she had time to dump the rest of her belongings in her new rented apartment before she had to rush off to today’s rehearsal—screw Austrian Airlines, she spat inwardly, but it was really her own fault for purchasing the tickets too late. No one could have predicted that her layover in London would extend three hours longer than expected. Either way, she’d been traveling for over twenty-four hours, running on three hours of broken sleep and two-and-a-half cups of over-sugared coffee, and was very close to being extremely late to her first rehersal.

Yasmin was not doing her best.

That was to say nothing for the fact that everything was in German and Yasmin did not know a lick of German (again, the last thing on her list of things to do). There were some letters on the street signs that she hadn’t even known existed; when she ascended from the underground line and into the bright light of midafternoon, she found that she was likely at the wrong stop, starving, sleep-deprived, and completely and utterly lost.

At least I invested in a cello case with shoulder straps, she tried to soothe herself, swinging the massive instrument off her back and leaning it against the sidewalk bench. She sat next to it and realized immediately that this was a mistake; her joints felt like they were being melted down, turning into sludge. Exhaustion seeped into her, and she felt the most overwhelming urge to let her eyes slip closed. But her heart pumped with anxiety, an odd pain that kept her awake, knowing that with every moment that passed she was coming closer and closer to missing her first rehearsal entirely. It was a horrible sensation and she wished it would go away. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if she was playing in an ensemble, or at least a quartet; there would be others who showed up, and the concert hall wouldn't have been unlocked for no reason. But no, Yasmin was on her own for this one. A solo concert. Several solo concerts. And if she didn't show up, what kind of impression would that leave on everyone who had put their faith her?

Her agent? Her music director? Her cello teacher from third grade? Her parents?

Yasmin put her head in her hands and groaned. It serves me right, she thought bitterly, for trying to convince myself that this wasn't a big deal. This is a very big deal. And now I'm lost.

She didn't want to cry, and she tried so hard to convince herself that she wasn't that she almost didn't feel the hot tears leaking out through her fingers and plopping onto her sneakers.

freakin' out on the interstate

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[artemis.]

zahra.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  someone here isn't having a very good day...
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  brown letterman jacket, brown pants, black boots, many rings.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  streets of vienna
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  some crying woman??
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Since the day Zahra had taken her first steps, the winding streets of Vienna, Austria were all that consumed her. Stony cobbled roads, white pillars and domes embellishing the Baroque constructions, bustling pathways between buildings with colorful crowds of people making about their day... The sights were nothing but ordinary to her after twenty-five years of residing in the beautiful, buoyant country. But no matter how extensive her residence was, Zahra had always seemed to attract the glances, perhaps even inspire a quirked brow, of others. Not necessarily because of her complexion or curly locks of dark hair — atypical in comparison to the majority of those around her — nor her strikingly tall height for a woman. Rather, what she was doing intensely piqued the curiosity of others, and Zahra supposed she couldn't blame them.

Among the crowd of individuals making their way down the street was herself, but in the midst was a little orange feline connected to her hand with a leash gently wrapped around her fingers. And as if the cat was a human himself, the strangers around carefully left a gap for the fluffy creature to walk, but not without curiously glancing down or smiling at the tabby. To explain it briefly, Cheeto, the orange cat in question, had always been fond of adventuring outside.

Maybe fond was too gentle of a description. He acted as if it was the oxygen he needed to breathe. Far too many times had Zahra woken up, not so long after the brink of dawn, with a cat yowling while longingly staring out her apartment window. Well, he had been an outdoor cat much longer than he had been indoors. It wasn't so wrong that he wanted some freedom, although Zahra wished he could long a bit more quietly.

Regardless, it was good for her to get the additional exercise in her day; likewise for Cheeto with how food-motivated he was. Plus, it was quite heartwarming to witness him sway his long tail with intrigue, poke his pink nose at whatever scent grasped his attention, and prod at objects with his little paws. Their trips outside often resulted in a new collection of photos added to Zahra's camera roll if he ended up doing something particularly cute.

Already, Cheeto had located his first victim on his walk: a large cello case leaning against a sidewalk bench, something that she assumed he hadn't seen before. The tabby stood in front of the encased cello on his four legs, whiskers and nose brushing against the hard shell of the case. He had done the exact same with the piano in her apartment, taking it in as if it was something alien. Zahra liked to joke that he might've been a musician in another life. Or a singer? It made sense with all his noisy meowing.

But it had been nearly half a minute now, and he was still deeply entranced by the cello case, even sticking out a paw to poke it.

"Cheeto."

His name was uttered in a quiet warning, but one he didn't seem to understand or blatantly ignored. Seeing his paw raise for a second time, Zahra hastily leaned down to scoop the feline up from the ground, who dejectly meowed at his sudden parting from the instrument. The last thing she wanted to do was bother the cello's owner, who she assumed to be the sole woman seated on the bench.

"Sorry."

The apology rolled out instinctually, although Zahra was uncertain the brunette had even seen her cat's exchange with how her face was buried into the palms of her hands. Not for a quick moment either, but multiple long seconds — kind of like someone on the verge of having a mental breakdown, or perhaps already undergoing one. On any day her mother was here, she probably would've advised Zahra to let them be, but currently she couldn't help but be a little bit curious. It wasn't so often you'd see someone lugging around such a heavy instrument throughout the city.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to check in, would it be? She'd rather ask than ditch someone who might've needed the help, especially if it was something Zahra was entirely capable of fulfilling... After a moment, the soothing lull of her voice rolled off her tongue.

"Hello..."

She attempted to grab the woman's attention first in English, only to switch to her mother tongue.

"Are you okay?"

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[boo.]

yasmin.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  a savior has appeared!!!!
  ...maybe????
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  baggy graphic t-shirt tucked into a pair of loose jeans, white sneakers, tears
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  lost on the streets of vienna
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  
  

  artemis.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

It wasn’t pity that Yasmin craved but rather a hand outstretched, a face that was willing to bend down to her level and show her that her fears could be soothed. She wanted familiarity, and even though it was an irrational desire, she needed it more than she could bear. Everything was far too overwhelming, and if there was just some small reminder of what she’d left behind, she was sure that she would be able to find her feet and bring herself to where she needed to go.

Is that so selfish? she wondered, cracking her fingers open just enough to stare at the pavement under her sneakers. Everything was out of focus; she could feel the heat of her face under her palms, the puffiness forming under red-rimmed eyes, the droop of her shoulders every time she raked in a breath. Doing anything other than sitting and crying seemed impossible, even pointless, to the extent that her mind became a white blur. It was a cycle of breathing and sobbing it all back out. It was stupid, she realized in a detached sort of way, as if she was watching herself from above, but that didn’t make it hurt any less, that she was lost in a place she’d never been, around people she didn’t know, hearing snippets of a language she didn’t understand.

Until she heard a soft voice, a single word spoken in English, an offhanded greeting.

Could it be… is she talking to me?

Then came a short flow of words that were unfamiliar, and Yasmin’s stomach dropped to her feet. But she looked up anyway, spine straightening just enough to see who it was standing over her. Oh—has she been there long? If the woman, bronze-skinned with dark natural hair not too unlike her own, had said anything before that, Yasmin hadn’t caught it.

She was holding a cat. She looked concerned, as anyone might be seeing a girl cry her heart out on a bench by the street. Yasmin blinked, sending another drop through her lashes and down her tear-stained cheek.

And then the floodgates broke.

“You have no idea—how long I—my phone isn’t working, and I have somewhere to be, and I think I got off at the wrong stop but I’m not sure, because my phone isn’t working, and when I tried to ask for directions the man didn’t know English, and—”

She broke off, wiping her face with the heel of her hand and sniffing miserably, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m not even sure I’ll be able to get back to my apartment, if I don’t get service, and this is my first real gig and what if they cancel my concert schedule when I don’t show up to practice? This is my first shot and I can’t mess it up now but I’m lost and I—”

A sob broke through, and she leaned over again, hiding her face from the woman because she was suddenly very ashamed of herself. Crying like this in front of a stranger? She swallowed the thick lump in her throat and rubbed at her eyes more furiously, telling herself to get a grip, because at this point she was very desperate, and if the woman walked away now, she knew that she’d feel worse than ever.

“If—If you could just wait a moment—”

Suddenly she broke off and realized she had been speaking rapid-fire Portuguese the entire time. She stared up at the woman and flushed furiously. Was the stranger a native? She didn’t exactly look Austrian but that wasn’t really a reason to assume she wasn’t. Hadn’t she spoken something that sounded German? Yasmin couldn’t remember. But she had said “hello,” and that was enough for her.

“Can you—tell me where I am?”

Yasmin spoke in a thick, rolling accent, unlocking her phone and holding it up toward the woman so she could see the map. Her destination, the concert hall, was marked with a large red dot but her phone still had no service, and her current location was not listed.

“I’m late, and—I don’t know how to get there.”

interested

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[artemis.]

zahra.

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  what's she saying??
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  brown letterman jacket, brown pants, black boots, many rings.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  streets of vienna
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  
  

  some crying woman??
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The unfamiliar words that spilled from the stranger’s mouth were spoken like music to her ears, but in such a way that a professional would interpret a melody. Although the phrases were unintelligible to her unacquainted mind, each syllable was like a rhythmic note sprawled across the pages of a composition. Pitch and tempo alone — the latter of which currently sped at a hasty vivace — was a universal method of perception for even the amateur. One didn’t always need to understand the language of people as long as they understood the language of sound. Swan Lake, for instance, still conveyed a beautifully haunting tune without an explicit explanation. Likewise, any reasonable audience would be able to decipher that the curly-haired woman was more than a little frantic from her rapid speech alone.

Before Zahra could remark on the stranger’s trepidation, a dissonant, desperate mrrow rumbled from the imprisoned, orange feline’s throat. Paws clambered up her torso to sandwich the skin of her neck, much akin to how a toddler would cling to their mother — and to be fair, Cheeto practically was like a spoiled little baby. But no cute meows or large, pleading round eyes could prevent Zahra from rolling her darker ones with a sigh.

”Not now, Cheeto.”

Hushed German was replied to with another pleading meow that entered one ear and instantaneously out the other. It wasn’t very long before the cat’s head tilted towards the stranger cutely, as if the woman would cease her perturbation simply to assist him.

But obviously, there was someone who needed more assistance than Cheeto could ever hope for. The string of notes sounding from the musician’s mouth had the Austrian’s brows furrowing. Was she speaking… Spanish? No, it seemed a little different…

“Erm, sorry–”

Hastily, her jaw clamped shut at the recognition of phrases she could actually understand. Oh. The woman knew English this whole time? And just when she was about to ask… Unintentionally, the brunette couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped her lips, though she wasn’t trying to laugh at the woman herself. Rather, the psyche had strange ways of working in moments of panic, and she certainly hadn’t experienced someone spouting on and on to her in an unfamiliar language before. Now that her words were recognizable, Zahra politely nodded along in acknowledgement as she spoke, eyes lowering to the red dot on the phone screen when it was presented to her. The concert hall? The huge instrument case leaning against the side of the bench was starting to make sense now, but she never would’ve assumed her intended destination was such a glamorous place.

Prior to a response, a quiet, thoughtful hum rumbled from Zahra’s throat.

“Of course. If you have been walking from intuition alone, then you’ve been doing surprisingly well. You’re not so far from the concert hall.”

An accent of her own accompanied a soothing, honeyed voice.

“Right now you’re standing at Fleischmarkt.”

Zahra lifted an index finger to point out a particular street on the map in relation to the red destination marker.

“If you start walking now, you won’t be too much later than you already are.”

Did that sound reassuring enough? Zahra wasn’t sure, but she was trying to relieve the woman a little.

“If you would like, I wouldn’t mind showing you the way there.”

Regardless, she still needed to walk Cheeto around. She could tell he was starting to get a little fussy.

“I was going to head in that direction, anyway.”

That part was a lie, but how would the musician know? It wasn’t like Zahra had too much of a tight schedule today, and she didn’t want the woman to feel guilty for taking up some of her time.

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡