Erik "String Master" Ivarsson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rockandroll_swede) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2021-10-05 12:06 pm
rockandroll_swede) wrote in nexus_crossings2021-10-05 12:06 pm
Inside the Eye of the Storm
Erik had his painting canvas propped up on his easel as he was now standing in the middle of the Plaza area, delving about in his leather painter's bag for some oil paints. He'd got his wooden palette already covered in an array of different colours which were swished across in painted dabs on the wood. Big blobs of blue, white, black and yellow were covering it since he was painting a sky portrait. The clouds slowly drifting across the Plaza sky, slow and lazy. The guitarist's instrument nowhere to be seen today as he was on a break from touring just for a few days before delving back through the portal into the crazy world of LA. The PINpoint was his go to when he wanted to leave the Nexus and head back to the LA hotel in which he was staying at. Robert's hotel room to be precise. Ziggy's limo driver.
"Where is it? I thought I brought it with me. Var är du? Säg inte att jag lämnade dig på hotellet."
The Swede shifting back into his own language because he often did when upset or worried. The worry now being he thought he'd left his favourite small paintbrush with the tiny head back home. Or, rather, back in the LA hotel room in which all his art stuff was currently being stored in. Damn. Sighing, he pulled out a slightly bigger brush and began swiping the rather worn bristle head into some blue paint and then across the canvas. He had painted a few clouds and blue sky but it was far from finished. Erik often enjoyed the break from the chaos which was the world of being a rock star. Sometimes, the pressure got too much and the young Swede withdrew to dissolve himself inside of a sketchbook or canvas. That's if he wasn't absorbed in his music, plucking away on his strings of his electric guitar.
"Don't you ever worry when you've left something behind and then can't remember where you've put it?"
That part infuriated the guitarist. His question directed towards anyone who may be curious about his painting or those wandering around the Plaza doing some shopping or out for a drink or bite to eat.
"Where is it? I thought I brought it with me. Var är du? Säg inte att jag lämnade dig på hotellet."
The Swede shifting back into his own language because he often did when upset or worried. The worry now being he thought he'd left his favourite small paintbrush with the tiny head back home. Or, rather, back in the LA hotel room in which all his art stuff was currently being stored in. Damn. Sighing, he pulled out a slightly bigger brush and began swiping the rather worn bristle head into some blue paint and then across the canvas. He had painted a few clouds and blue sky but it was far from finished. Erik often enjoyed the break from the chaos which was the world of being a rock star. Sometimes, the pressure got too much and the young Swede withdrew to dissolve himself inside of a sketchbook or canvas. That's if he wasn't absorbed in his music, plucking away on his strings of his electric guitar.
"Don't you ever worry when you've left something behind and then can't remember where you've put it?"
That part infuriated the guitarist. His question directed towards anyone who may be curious about his painting or those wandering around the Plaza doing some shopping or out for a drink or bite to eat.
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Erik didn't understand artificial intelligence much so just stared and frowned at that. All these words just mostly flew over his head but he knew the little thing was impressive at least.
"I do not understand some of the words you use but this little thing is cute. Hello!"
The Swede smiled and waved at the machine wondering if it could see the guitarist behaving like a curious school boy.
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It blinks on and off a few moments as if to say "hi" back. When he waved, it bounced in the air following his hand.
"I think it likes you."
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Erik didn't know what to say so just waved back at the machine, thinking it was cute in it's own way. The Swede then realised he hadn't even introduced himself to the young lady and almost forgot his manners being swept up with the strange little robot. He placed his brush down onto his palette and held out a hand.
"I'm Erik Ivarsson. Guitarist and artist."
He offered a boyish smile to both her and her machine.
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She fumbled a moment to put her tools and the contraption she was working on in one hand, brushing off any grease on her work pants before shaking his hand. "Mira Greason, and also dabble with guitar. Acoustic folk and blues mostly, though I have a small following at the club I work at, for when they talk me into filling in a jazz session." She smiled. "What style you play?"
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Erik watched the drone and wondered if he acted like a lost dog without his owner and that idea stuck in the young Swede's head. It was an amusing one but one that caused him to smile slightly. Now, Mira was shaking his hand and this pleased the guitarist who had found another musically inclined person within the Nexus.
"I play hard rock mixed with some glam and blues styles. Mostly blues with hard rock elements. You are more a jazz musician?"
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"When not at work I'm more blues and folk. Though at work, well I'm a big draw for my boss when I sing jazz. Only working for him because it's the best club in town for musicians, but he's a total slimeball."