(1939-09-21) The Siren's Call
Details for The Siren's Call
Summary: Anthony and Signe run into each other in Hogsmeade and have a slightly awkward conversation. Signe delivers an impromptu song that goes over better than she'd expected.
Date: September 21st, 1939
Location: The Three Broomsticks

There are few things that make Signe as nervous as being left alone in a wizarding establishment - but there she is, sitting at one of the tables. She's begged a quill, parchment and ink off one of the servers, and is occupying herself by jotting down some musical notation in neat writing, while periodically humming to herself. It's just something to keep her distracted, to give her something to focus on rather than getting nervous. Periodically, she sips at a glass of chilled white wine.

Anthony is leaning against the bar supping thoughtfully from a pint of butterbeer. He's in muggle fashion, a nice suit, but somehow the whole outfit doesn't quite work. It may be that the plain trousers clash with the pinstripe jacket. Or it might be the school tie.

Signe does not own much of anything that would qualify as 'wizarding' fashion, and so her own dress is of Muggle style. Unlike Anthony's clothing, however, it's not haphazard at all but quite a stylish dress in medium blue with lighter colored trim. She glances up briefly at the boy's attire, but makes no comment on it - that would be rude - and instead focuses back on her work.

Anthony takes a sup, and gives a satisfied little sigh. Then his gaze falls on the woman. A slight frown. It's an unfamiliar face, and Hogsmeade isn't so large a place that in 7 years, you don't get an idea of the population. It's not that he's staring, but he's certainly trying to place the face, and failing.

Signe glances up again - and whether Anthony feels like he's staring or not, it's clear that it makes the woman feel uncomfortable to find his gaze locked on her. Does he recognize her? That's… completely ridiculous. Even her own cousin hadn't recognized her when she'd run into him and yet- it is possible, isn't it? Indeed - for all she knows, the man staring at her is another of her cousins.

And the meeting of gazes makes the introduction impossible, at least for someone being polite. Tony lifts his hat, and clears his throat, "I don't think I've had the pleasure, Madame?" A beat, and he approaches, "Tony Rowle."

A Rowle. Likely, they had met as children - though the name was not particularly familiar to her. Signe offers a smile, hoping it covers for her nerves. "I don't believe we have," she agrees. "I'm Sydney Cole," she introduces herself, using her stage name. It's a much safer alternative, in her mind.

Anthony gives a smile, as if trying to place the name, and failing. He indicates the chair, "Might I join you? I'm afraid I am, at least for now, stood up, and I'm told it's very poor form to drink alone."

"Of course," Signe answers. "I'd be happy for a little company, Mister Rowle," she offers. "I've just been…" she gestures to the parchment in front of her, "keeping myself occupied."

Anthony sinks into the chair, and hazards, "Music? I don't play, myself, although one of my sisters is a violinist." He considers the crotchetty inscriptions, "I suppose it's a language of its own, really. Would you sing it for me?"

"This is for violin, actually. I don't have mine with me… The violin, and the piano. But certainly I could sing the melody." There's hint of excitement peeking through her polite smile. She really feels she's onto something. Glancing at the notations she has - though this is almost completely unnecessary as most of it is still in her head and not on the page - she begins to sing.

Anthony leans back to listen, as the melody flows around him. The pint goes untouched. His eyes half close. Letting him concentrate. When it's finished, he unabashedly applauds, and then notes, "That is really…. well…. Magical."

Glancing around, Signe notices that more than a few people are also staring at her, and applauding as well, and her cheeks start to color. It's a lot of attention - from a lot of wizards. Oh, gracious, why did she do that? She tries not to melt in her seat. "Umm… thank you. It's- I'd written it for Wolfgang's birthday, but I thought I could do better…"

Anthony whistles, "Gosh! You can do better than that? Well, honestly, in that case, I shall expect to see your name on sheet music for my sister soon, Miss Cole! Truely, splendid! I take it that's your work?"

"Oh, no, I mean… Perhaps I could do better, but I'm quite pleased with now. It's much better than what I had before." Not that what she'd had before was bad, mind. Signe smiles shyly as she adds, "But yes - it was my work. I do hope you're right about this. I hadn't planned on making this a commercial piece, but…" She glances around the room. A few eyes were still her way - this was a little embarrassing!

And then Tessa is at her shoulder, refilling her cup for her. "On the house, dearie. That was lovely."

Anthony is seated at a table with Signe. Tony's in (badly chosen) muggle clothing, complete with Ravenclaw tie. Signe is her usual impeccable self. Both have drinks.

Anthony is seated at a table with Signe. Tony's in (badly chosen) muggle clothing, complete with Ravenclaw tie. Signe is her usual impeccable self. Both have drinks. "Well, it seems to have gone down very well. Do you plan on orchestrating it? Or maybe for a small band?"

"Oh, thank you," Signe says with a little surprise as her glass is refilled. She takes a sip, before returning her attention to Tony. "Well… I don't know. It was just going to be a little sonatina - but I think I have enough in mind for a proper sonata, now. Still… I meant it to be for piano and violin alone. A bit of romantic gesture - since he plays piano, and play violin."

Ethel was raised by a muggle woman who had smarts enough to send along muggle clothes for her daughter, dressed in a pretty green which has a white belt. She steps into the pub and smiles to the keeper, "Can I get a butterbeer please?"

Anthony gives a smile, "That _is_ really romantic. And yes. Yes, you really _should_." His voice is sufficiently loud to carry.

"Market it? I suppose. When I'm done with the edits, and Wolfgang and I have played through it a few times… we'll talk about it. He has a much better head for the business side of things," Signe responds.

Ethel gets her drink and moves to take a seat, she crosses her legs at the ankle and adjusts her skirts. She sighs contently and looks around now to see all who is here. Giving a warm smile to Anthony and his friend, she lifts her glass to her lips and takes small sips of it. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out a small paper bag and opens it, inside are small candies, seems someone is enjoying her Hogsmeade weekend!

Anthony gives a nod, "Wolfgang being your husband?" He hazards.

Signe looks embarrassed, biting her lip, and looking down at her page. "Wolfgang is my beau… but not my husband, no," she explains. And never will be, she knows. "He owns the Natrix, in London. He's a jazz singer - Wolfgang Montague," she offers.

Anthony ohs, "As in Wolfgang Montague, Wolfgang Montague? I've heard him! Gosh! Music really is in your life, isn't it?" There's a little nod.

"As in, yes," Signe confirms. "It's- well, yes. I love music. It's all I do. Jazz mostly, but I'm in an opera tonight…" And for the next two weeks.

Anthony shows the depth and level of his operatic knowledge at this point, "Oh, fat women in horned helmets singing about magical artifacts?" A beat, "You don't fit the stereotype. And anyway, isn't Wagner unpatriotic at present?"

"There's a bit more to opera than that," Signe responds wryly. "We're doing one of Puccini's - La Boheme. I'm playing Musetta." It's funny - since taking the role, her life's become… a bit more like Musetta's. Was that really a good thing?

Anthony hazards, "Italian? I've not heard of it as a French one, and I'm reasonable at that sort of thing."

Ethel just goes about drinking her butterbeer, and eatting her candy, only kinda eavesdropping

"Italian," Signe confirms. "All of Puccini's operas are. Though it is set Paris. He also made one set in America - in their 'wild west.'" She smiles with some amusement. "I wonder sometimes how inaccurate it must be - what Americans must think when they watch it."

Anthony says thoughtfully, "Well, it will be inaccurate regardless. I really do wonder whether anyone has really looked into the basis of the Shamanic cultures of the tribal cultures in places like that, and how it relates to what we do." Oh, the casual 'we'. Cos nothing rubs it in for a Squib like the assumption she has magical powers.

"What does the American Wild West have to do with Shamanic…" Signe asks uncertainly, starting to get uncomfortable again. If he's going to talk about magic, then- well. She knows nothing about it.

Ethel finishes off her butterbeer and she closes up her candy bag, she rises and adjusts her dress, cleaning up after herself she takes her glass back to the barkeeper.

Anthony says, "Well, the Indians were Shamanic, weren't they? I'm sure Dad would know something about it, but he's never said." There's a slight frown there, "Why does this stuff never come up in History?"

"I wouldn't know," Signe answers softly, and more truthful a statement never was spoken. She picks up her glass, taking another sip to hopefully cover for her discomfort.

Ethel slips out, letting the two talk.

Anthony pauses, mind doing a handbrake turn, and screeching to a halt. "You're… not a graduate of the school?"

"I only meant-" Signe says hastily, not sure how to finish that sentence. She hadn't meant for him to read it like that, but he had. What does she do - lie? "…I wouldn't know how the Professors choose the curriculum," she attempts. He's a Rowle. There's no telling how he might react to a squib.

Anthony ohs, "Well… yes. Yes, It doesn't always make sense. To say nothing of the absolutely dreadful scholarship in this SCUMS class."

"Oh. Yes. I agree," Signe answers lamely, not sure what else to say. She has no idea what a 'SCUMS' class is - but it sounds dreadful, and she has no notion what she's agreeing to.

"You don't play any music yourself?" she asks hastily, in a feeble attempt to change the subject.

Anthony shakes his head, "No… no, my closest approach to music is having learned to waltz, I'm afraid." There's an apologetic look, and he drains his butterbeer, "I'm very sorry to abandon you like this, but I have an appointment coming up."

"No - I… it's fine, Mister Rowle," Signe replies. I'm glad you enjoyed the music." She gives him small smile. "Goodluck in your studies."

The hat is raised, and he murmurs his thanks, and leaves

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