Bran Davies; Intro [open]
Who: Bran Davies, Open
When: November 28th morning
Where: The Boardwalk
What: Just arriving, and very confused.
Rating: G, unless you count a G string on a Harp as something dirty.
Bran stood on the platform looking dazedly around himself. He could swear he'd heard this was the Caernarfon railway station but this was far too tropical to be north Wales. And when did Caernarfon have a boardwalk? And where was the train station now? Bran's hand wrapped tightly around the casing of Mrs. Evans' harp and his jaw tightened. There was also no sign of John Rowlands. No signs up about National Eisteddfod and as far as he could tell, no other instruments and no large packages of artwork. There were also no trolleys. Bran looked at his suitcase and then again at the large harp next to him wondering what he ought to do. It was odd enough that there was no train station but it also made it quite difficult to correct whatever mistake had been made. He stepped forward to stop a passing ... waitress? Goodness where did waitresses wear costumes like that? "Esgusodwch fi ti'n siarad Cymraeg?" He asked and when she did not respond switched to English or what he thought was English. "I am sorry. It seems I've gone and gotten off at the wrong station. Can you tell me where I am?" He asked her, trying to keep that edge of worry out of his voice.
The waitress blinked owlishly at him and bowed deeply, before handing him an envelope. Before he could stop her she turned and walked away toward a nearby restaurant. Bran frowned after her and flipped the envelope over in his hand to see his name scrawled neatly across the front. "Rydw i allan o'm dyfnder yn fy ngwaith." He murmured to himself. "What on earth is going on?" His accent was thick and lilting. He flipped the envelope back over and broke the seal before reading to himself.
Upon finishing reading Bran settled his hand back down at his side and turned so he could see the buildings now. The ocean at his back with the sun reflecting off of it shined against his white white hair and the breeze threaded through it, lifting the collar of his shirt before setting it back down against his throat. Somewhere in his logical mind he knew he ought to be more concerned with everything that was happening. But another part of him felt a thrill of excitement. He found himself grinning up at the tallest buildings and his spine straightened as he made the decision to take this new adventure as it came.
When: November 28th morning
Where: The Boardwalk
What: Just arriving, and very confused.
Rating: G, unless you count a G string on a Harp as something dirty.
Bran stood on the platform looking dazedly around himself. He could swear he'd heard this was the Caernarfon railway station but this was far too tropical to be north Wales. And when did Caernarfon have a boardwalk? And where was the train station now? Bran's hand wrapped tightly around the casing of Mrs. Evans' harp and his jaw tightened. There was also no sign of John Rowlands. No signs up about National Eisteddfod and as far as he could tell, no other instruments and no large packages of artwork. There were also no trolleys. Bran looked at his suitcase and then again at the large harp next to him wondering what he ought to do. It was odd enough that there was no train station but it also made it quite difficult to correct whatever mistake had been made. He stepped forward to stop a passing ... waitress? Goodness where did waitresses wear costumes like that? "Esgusodwch fi ti'n siarad Cymraeg?" He asked and when she did not respond switched to English or what he thought was English. "I am sorry. It seems I've gone and gotten off at the wrong station. Can you tell me where I am?" He asked her, trying to keep that edge of worry out of his voice.
The waitress blinked owlishly at him and bowed deeply, before handing him an envelope. Before he could stop her she turned and walked away toward a nearby restaurant. Bran frowned after her and flipped the envelope over in his hand to see his name scrawled neatly across the front. "Rydw i allan o'm dyfnder yn fy ngwaith." He murmured to himself. "What on earth is going on?" His accent was thick and lilting. He flipped the envelope back over and broke the seal before reading to himself.
Upon finishing reading Bran settled his hand back down at his side and turned so he could see the buildings now. The ocean at his back with the sun reflecting off of it shined against his white white hair and the breeze threaded through it, lifting the collar of his shirt before setting it back down against his throat. Somewhere in his logical mind he knew he ought to be more concerned with everything that was happening. But another part of him felt a thrill of excitement. He found himself grinning up at the tallest buildings and his spine straightened as he made the decision to take this new adventure as it came.