Beth Greene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_littlefaith) wrote2019-01-30 08:50 pm
a_littlefaith) wrote2019-01-30 08:50 pm
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(no subject)
There's no denying she's drawing bigger crowds these days, ever since the album was officially released, and although Beth still tries to play some of the smaller venues where she first started out in Darrow, it's getting more and more difficult to keep it up. They just can't let as many people into the bar as want to be there and that's as surreal as seeing that poster of herself that she's found in the record store window that day.
She can't just abandon them, though. These bars, these people, they're why she's able to have a career as a musician and so she still plays whenever she can, but these days she just can't promote the smaller shows as much as she used to. Even without it, the bar tonight is still relatively packed and people are actually singing along with some of her songs and Beth's not sure she's ever going to get used to any of this.
It used to be she would always recognize a few faces at her shows. Carl would be there, or Kili. And then Curtis. He would never make a big deal about it, he wouldn't even always come over to say hi, but he would be there.
They're all gone now and the crowds are too big for her to expect her friends to always be there, but when she spots a familiar face somewhere near the back, Beth's smile grows. She's just about done, wrapping up her last song and then passing off her guitar for it to be put away before she hops down from the stage and weaves her way through the crowd. People stop her and say hi and tell her how much they liked the show and she thanks every single one of them, but she's headed for one person in particular.
"Hi," she says when she's close enough to Lisbeth to be heard. Her hair is damp, her forehead still sweaty from the lights and she pushes back strands that are sticking to her skin. The clothes she wears to perform are different than Lisbeth would have seen her in that first day, a little darker, a little more daring than she usually wears, but the opal Curtis had given her still glints in the hollow of her throat. That never goes anywhere.
"I thought I saw you from the stage," she continues. "How're you doin'?"
She can't just abandon them, though. These bars, these people, they're why she's able to have a career as a musician and so she still plays whenever she can, but these days she just can't promote the smaller shows as much as she used to. Even without it, the bar tonight is still relatively packed and people are actually singing along with some of her songs and Beth's not sure she's ever going to get used to any of this.
It used to be she would always recognize a few faces at her shows. Carl would be there, or Kili. And then Curtis. He would never make a big deal about it, he wouldn't even always come over to say hi, but he would be there.
They're all gone now and the crowds are too big for her to expect her friends to always be there, but when she spots a familiar face somewhere near the back, Beth's smile grows. She's just about done, wrapping up her last song and then passing off her guitar for it to be put away before she hops down from the stage and weaves her way through the crowd. People stop her and say hi and tell her how much they liked the show and she thanks every single one of them, but she's headed for one person in particular.
"Hi," she says when she's close enough to Lisbeth to be heard. Her hair is damp, her forehead still sweaty from the lights and she pushes back strands that are sticking to her skin. The clothes she wears to perform are different than Lisbeth would have seen her in that first day, a little darker, a little more daring than she usually wears, but the opal Curtis had given her still glints in the hollow of her throat. That never goes anywhere.
"I thought I saw you from the stage," she continues. "How're you doin'?"
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She takes another quick swallow of her drink and listens more easily now, looser from alcohol and having been able to actually say something.
It's a different, more bittersweet smile that shifts over her face now. "I think if I weren't so sweet on some guy, I'd kiss you," she says, and tosses the rest of her drink back. "Fine, fucking right. I will." She shrugs. "I was going to anyway, but maybe I'll be less tragic."
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"You can talk to me about it, too," she says with a smile and a shrug, still teasing gently. "I can even give you my phone number and you can text me rather than havin' to follow me to a show. So if somethin' freaks you out, I can be on call."