Roadside. [Reserved for Chase/Mia]

Chase liked the serenity of the vineyard. The proprietor spent a majority of his time in the cellar amongst bottles of already-aged wine, and not the grapes in the field, and Chase was granted his solitude for a few hours until the farmhand, a young man with a ponytail and a frown, came out to tend to the grapes, at which point Chase simply hopped over the fence that led to the roadside of town, easily walking away without so much as being noticed, at least to his knowledge.

He didn't know if he was allowed to be there or not, but he wasn't going to wait to be caught to find out. But, for now, in the earlier hours of the morning, he would hop over the low fence once again, guitar in hand, and sit down in the shade in a barren corner, and he would play his guitar quietly.

The sleeping quiet of the Morning was lost for Mia. Her heart beat rapatiously in rhythm with her pounding feet, and the wind pushing softly through her hair. The adrenaline formed it's own beat in her head.

On the rooftops again.
She found great solace on the rooftops, a place where only the birds could dance and sing around her; and though the barely melting snow was slipperty under her feet, she paid no mind to it.

As she ran, watching the world go by below her, Mia stopped in her tracks with a wild skid, spraying snow in front of her. There on the Roadside, was Chase, making his comfortable way along.

Drawing her fingers to her mouth, she whistled out to him, waving happily.

The sudden noise startled Chase, and he dropped his guitar on his lap, hissing in sharply as the neck of the instrument struck him in the shoulder. "Ow," he cursed quickly under his breath and looked up and around, trying to find his company. "Wha-?" He frowned, squinted into the early morning sunlight, and shaded his eyes with his hand as he scanned the area. Something told him to look at the rooftops, and he did so, seeing a familiar silhouette facing in his direction. "Mia!" He exhaled. "You scared me."

Mia supressed a giggle, happy Chase couldn't hear it from down on the ground.
"Did I?" She asked innocently, shifting her weight on her feet. "So sorry, sir Chase."

Running up to the edge of the roof, she took a big leap and dropped to the ground, landing with a precisely practiced roll, briefly nostalgic of their first meeting.
"Hey... Is that a guitar? Do you play?" She asked, sudden excitement gleaming like that of a child. Mia sat herself down in front of Chase, looking with wide curious eyes at the hefty instrument in his hands.

Chase made like he was going to whack Mia with the body of the guitar, but settled it in his lap instead and nodded at her question. "Yeah. I play." Cracking a grin, he added, "Astute observation, by the way." He ran a finger down the polished wood of the instrument and bit his lip. "I really need a new one," he admitted, looking at the various scrapes and dents along the guitar. "I've had this one since I was a kid. But I can't get rid of it." He picked it up, angled it like a pro, flexed his fingers quickly, and began to strum absently. "What about you? You play any instruments?"

Mia inquisitively looked the Guitar over, looking as though every inch of it were made of some holy substance. The very sound brought a bright smile to her face when Chase brushed his fingers over the strings, looking very professional and such.


"Uh-uh. I'm not talented in any way." She giggled.
She'd always adored musicians, always loved watching them play.

Chase, picking up on Mia's intrigue, switched from a simple strum to a more complicated set of chords and notes, a recognizable song that was popular on the mainland, at least the part he called home. He hummed along, quietly, and played for the duration until he stopped abruptly and looked up at Mia.

"I could teach you, if you want."

Mia listened as Chase strung notes together in an admirable harmony, fitting together beautifully, like one big puzzle all coming togethr. The tune was idyllic, warm. Soothing and calm, but happy.

"You could...?"
Mia hesitated for a moment, softly biting her lip, pondering.
"I might have a try..." She looked back up to Chase shyly, putting on the most innocent face she could. Puppy-dog eyes and all.

Chase nodded with authority, and motioned for her to move over next to him. "Hold it like this," he instructed, "And hold your hand out like you're waiting for a high five. Palm up, hand straight out. Got it?" He bent her fingers a little bit. "How you hold your fingers is key." He positioned her fingers on the frets and strings, and said, "This is E. Hold your fingers just like that, tight, against the strings, and strum with your other hand."