Old Familiar Sounds [IC w/Vince]
Most people noted places by the sight of them, the scent of memories and of course the sounds of life; all of those it was sound that Kori hinged his recollections on. Same as he could tell the difference between the clatter and background hum of one street from the next he could navigate the subway stations with his eyes closed practically by the chime of the stops and the noise when the doors opened.
He wasn't sure that the old memories would stick, if it would all come back to him or had only dissolved into the sounds of the other cities he had seen recently. But no, New York had noise that was distinct and perhaps that was because he missed it so much it took hardly more than the click of his sneakers upon the bus station terminal, the honk of horns and the grinding sound of street construction to bring it all back.
One deep breath filled with dust and steel, a million people in motion, and it really was home again.
Rather than bother with checking into his old haunts, or calling to see if his sister was back in town yet, he found his feet leading him off to what felt like the most familiar spot to return to after his travels. The grass curled under his steps, an oasis of green in the neon and steel, the trees reached skyward and the pace was infinity slower while people strolled during their lunch hour.
In all his time playing in Central Park there was one spot he favored; tucked just off the direct path and comfortable under the watchful eye of an old tree that had survived the city growing up around it. Nobody ever really claimed a spot exactly, musicians wandered as they pleased, even those allowed it by the city, but that day he was pleased to see the ground bare and empty.
The way it felt to sink back against the rough trunk and let his shoulders settle, tired from the long bus ride, to feel the breaks between the branches were the sunlight glowed in spots over the torn knees of his jeans and warmed his bare skin felt so welcoming. The soft grass parted and the air was as fresh as one could find amid those towering buildings.
Once he'd freed Mallory from the confines of her case his fingers itched to find the strings, to add his own sound back into the mix that was the lifeblood of the city. She seemed just as ready for it, perhaps had missed home as well, because her voice was as strong as ever with the notes while his fingertips moved.
Time melted away while he played, one song to the next as the mood hit; not concerned with drawing attention so much as indulging it for himself that afternoon.
When he was finally satisfied with the hum in his veins from the music he reached for his phone and lifted it to take a quick snapshot of the park from where he was sitting. And with another tap of his fingers he sent it to Vince, a bit curious if he would decipher what the image meant and forgive him the few days of time in traveling without that promised phone call sent.
He'd planned to surprise him by showing up and hadn't trusted himself not to let that slip in the middle of conversation.