Tag Archives: music

Mondays are for Music: Track 09

Today’s track is a whole lot of fun and that’s because it is Wentworth’s theme. It’s hard to do anything involving the man and not get a little bit of a chuckle.

This piece is from the soundtrack of Coraline, a film that, frankly, scared the pants off of me when I saw it in the theatre. Afterwards, I promptly bought the soundtrack. Hehe.

This piece is bouncy, flouncy, and just as booming and theatrical as the blonde conman himself. It does, however, contain a certain sense of creep-nasty, a little hint of something that makes you not quite trust it.

Here is Wentworth (The Mice Circus) 🙂


Mondays are for Music: Track 08

I’m excited about today’s music post because the piece actually belongs to a scene that I just wrote the other day! And because  of my total lack of participation on this blog (for good reason. I’m getting a lot of work done!), I’ll share it with you. 🙂

By the time he entered the room, ribbons, bows, and wrappings littered the floor. Wentworth had said he bought gifts for both him and Luke. He failed to mention showering Luke with gifts. Everywhere Aiden looked there were female accessories and trinkets. Boots, stockings, hats, gloves, a red cloak lined with the fur of an arctic fox, a diamond brooch, and an array of soaps and perfumes all scattered across the settee she had abandoned as she opted for a seat on the floor.

“This is a bit unnecessary,” Aiden announced as he stepped over a pile of curled ribbon, “I much prefer to travel lightly.”

“You’re just a killjoy,” said Wentworth, handing his partner a gift wrapped in black paper.

Aiden turned the package in his hands a few times, uncomfortable with the anticipation displayed in the two seated on the floor.With a shrug he released the box of its packaging and upon reveal, shook his head, laughing.

“I thought I might save us some time,” Wentworth mused.

“Thanks,” Aiden replied, admiring the box, containing exactly two hundred bullets specifically designed for his pistols, “I do hate making the trip to stock up.”

“It’s my turn!” Luke exclaimed, pulling out the gift she had purchased for him. Aiden raised a brow and Wentworth pointed to his new emerald stickpin, showing it off proudly.

She stood, and with two hands and a hopeful smile, presented Aiden with his present, wrapped carefully in the exact shade of red that matched her gown and the inside of his collar (he was wearing that coat today, she noticed). He took it from her gently, never removing his gaze from hers, the image of her sleeping on the floor burned into his memory.

Nodding, he opened it, and when he pulled the riding gloves out from the paper, his breath caught and he nearly felt his heart stop.

Useless.

That was what his father had deemed him. A child with a stutter could be silenced, but a boy who feared horses could not learn to ride and would be of no use to him at all. He would never inherit the dukedom if he didn’t learn his place.

Gabrielle was screaming. He could hear her voice through the thick wood doors that was their father’s study. She yelled and pulled fits, demanding the man be less cruel, but in the end, the truth was that she was not his mother and held no power over his upbringing.

Sinking against the wall, seven year old Aiden sighed and frowned at the carpet. He shouldn’t be alive. Everyone would be much happier if he hadn’t ever been born.

“They’re having it out again, are they?”

Aiden looked up to see the elegant structure of his brother-in-law looking curiously at the doors.

“What’s he on about this time? Surely he knows by now that your speech is nothing to be frowned upon.”

“H-h-hors-horses.”

Micah St. Lawrence, the only man (save Fletcher) to ever look upon Aiden as a human being and a respectable member of society, frowned at this. “Horses? Have you let them go?”

When Aiden shook his head, his black hair falling over his eyes, Micah sighed. “I see. You are still fearful of them.”

The boy looked up at him, hurt reflecting in his eyes, and frustration visible on the lines of his brow. With a gentle smile, Micah crouched down to his level and with a smile, withdrew a pair of riding gloves. They were camel in colour, to match all of his earthy, yet bright attire.

“Do you see these?” he asked, not expecting a response from Aiden. He had learned to keep his questions rhetorical for the most part. “These just arrived today from the glover. There was a bit of an accident at the tannery, in which a wizard spilled a pot of magic dust over all the leather.”

Aiden perked up, his eyes becoming curious and filled with wonder. Did wizards exist? He had never seen one.

“The dust, so I was told, was meant to ease fear. The tanner intended to use it on the saddles, to keep horses from becoming too skittish, but alas, it fell all over the wrong leather.”

He took one of Aiden’s small hands and slid one of the oversized gloves onto it. “I will teach you to ride, and with these, I promise you will not be afraid.

“Let Gabrielle and your father have words. We shall visit the stables and pat my horse.”

With both hands lost inside of his new gloves, Aiden nodded and, walking closely beside the man he wished so dearly to be his father, anticipated proving himself worthy of inheritance.

“Do you like them, Mr. Finnegan?”

Aiden blinked, returning to the present and looking down at his gift. The backs had been embossed with his initials, just as his saddle was.

“You’re a busy man,” Luke went on, “and I noticed that you haven’t taken the time to purchase yourself new gloves, as badly as you need them.”

Wentworth chimed in then. “Perhaps you would like to take Miss Avery for a ride down the lane.”

Still off balance, Aiden merely hummed in agreement. “Of course,” he said, “I’ll be right down.”

He left the room, dazed, and when he stumbled slowly into his chambers, he rested his back against the door. He took a few breaths to calm himself, clutching the new gloves with white knuckles.

When his thoughts returned to him, he reached over to his wardrobe and pulled out the gloves he had worn for over twenty years. It was with these gloves that he had found his confidence and learned to ride. There had been no wizard, he learned that later on and Micah was even better a man than he was given credit for. He had faith in Aiden when no one did. He shared Gabrielle’s pride in him, and saw past his handicaps, knowing that beneath the stuttering and the fearful fits, he was still just a boy who needed love and tenderness like any other.

Steeling his nerves, Aiden brought the gloves over to the corner and, pulling out one of the miniatures, placed the image of Micah inside of them. It was time to move on.

“I won’t forget you,” he whispered, a promise more to himself than anyone.

Fletcher watched from the doorway, and when Aiden turned, he nodded in silent approval.

The Book of Luke completion progress: 42%

The Noble Project completion progress: 10%


Mondays are for Music: Track 07

One thing that is important to know about Aiden is that he lives on Memory Lane. He is fueled by thoughts of his past, even though he swears up and down that he is unaffected by events prior to the present. But that is because he is a liar. He spends most, if not all of his time alone thinking on the years that have gone by, how they could have gone differently, and why they caused him to be what he is.

So today, I’ll give you a little bit of memory music and, since I haven’t in a while, a little scene to go with. I don’t have an exact place for this moment yet, but it will find its way.

A Message for the Queen (Remembering Marietta) from the film 300.

It reminded him of her. Of course it did. Everything reminded him of her. Aiden pushed his fingers into his hair and stared out into the night. It was cold outside and there was a steady breeze up on the roof that brought a chill to his bones, but still he sat there almost unmoving.

It had been ten years to the day tonight. Had he been a better man he would have been married for ten years tonight. He would have had a son. He’d be six.

Aiden had no desire for children and it was easy to say he didn’t even like them, but like every man, he had pride, and a part of upholding said pride is to bear a son. Children weren’t children for long (he certainly wasn’t) so for the short while that he had to deal with the screaming brat didn’t seem too bad in comparison to the glory that his son would carry on in his name.

Marietta wouldn’t have made a good mother. She wasn’t loving or tender towards children. She didn’t have any desire to destroy her perfect figure or to soil her hands with the dirty work of caring for a baby, but that was what nurses and governesses were for.

That would be it. One child. One son. Their life would have forever consisted of glittering balls, silks, feasts, flashing lights and the whirling, dizzying lifestyle of those most fortunate. He would have provided all of that for her. If there were anything that she ever felt a need for, she would have it. She was his sun, his center, his hope. She had been the only person that ever showed how much she truly cared, that she was honest and good to him, for him, that she was his forever, that she’d never leave like the others had.

But she lied.

So here he was, ten years later on the rooftop of a hidden house, still wondering why. He had it all. He did it all. Why would she leave him? It had been an entire decade and still he wanted to know. He couldn’t live without knowing. Not knowing is what had driven him to become what he was. Aiden Finnegan, The Black Duke. The Black Duke wasn’t a duke at all, but a man who once had the entire world at his disposal. Now he was left with nothing of his own. Now everything came with strings.

He remembered her face. He remembered the way she smiled at him and the way her bottom lip pulled down when she was worried. He remembered seeing her angry. There was something about her when she was angry that he found himself unable to resist. Marietta didn’t have hurricane like fits or large sweeping rants. She was quiet and icy, malicious and cruel. If ever there were a woman who used her position to gain advantage over her enemies, it was Marietta Grace.

But even as similar to Aiden as she was, that wasn’t the reason he loved her. Aiden loved Marietta because in his lowest of lows, she had been there to pick him up, to hold him and whisper her ever gentle, ‘I won’t leave you.’: the mantra that he clung to.

Even as a child she had understood him. She knew to tread delicately around his sour being and never did she consider speaking out of line. She sat before him, stitching lace or practicing her handwriting while she listened to him. Sometimes he wouldn’t say anything at all and neither would she. Simply being in the same room as her gave him peace of mind.

Marietta never challenged him. Aiden’s word was absolute and she knew it. She never whined, complained of even pouted unless the soft change in facial expression was carried out with intent to seduce him. She knew her place (naked, beneath him) and never thought to test it.

As a younger man, Aiden had been cocky. He wasn’t stupid. but he had been too self absorbed in his misery, and confident in his power to realize that there were bigger things going on than his fame and fortune.

Poor bastard. 😦


Mondays are For Music: Track 06

I know I didn’t get around to Alphabet Soup on Saturday night, so to make up for that, I’ll do two letters this coming Saturday. 🙂
The track we have for today is from my favorite anime series Wolf’s Rain. Again, like everything else I love, the score is just phenomenal.

This piece, My Little Flower (re-named A Bath) is a gentle piece, delicate and romantic, set to Aiden & Luke’s first kiss. Now, just because this scene happens to be soft and tender, let’s not lose ourselves and think they will have a healthy relationship in any way.

They will, however, have times when they are at peace with themselves and with each other, giving way to scenes with very little bloodshed and scathing words. This happens to be one of them. 🙂


Mondays are for Music: Track 05

I’m going to try and get this one out super fast while I still have internet access. Sandy’s a’comin’ and it doesn’t appear that she will be too gentle with us.

Track five of my unofficial soundtrack is a piece that comes from one of my absolute favourite animated films: Anastasia. If you haven’t yet seen it, it’s only $5 at Target, so get on that! It’s a big part of my inspiration for TNP. (and Dimitri is pretty smokin’ =P)

It is a lighthearted piece, fitting our trio’s visit to Mr. Espott quite well. It’s light and delicate, adhering to the frilly feminine atmosphere of the dress shop. The peppiness of the wind instruments compliment Mr. Espott’s comic lament, but then it softens into nostalgia and the hope that the old man has for Luke’s relationship with the ever dreary Mr. Finnegan.

That’s all out of me today– I need to go bake some muffins before I lose power! 😀

Speaking of Sophie a.k.a. The Dress Shop


Mondays are for Music: Track 04

When my parents went to Las Vegas almost ten years ago, they brought me back something very exciting. The soundtrack to Cirque du Soleil’s O. Alright, so my dad bought the soundtrack for himself, but he was very eager to share it with me and I’m so glad that he did. Though I didn’t get a chance to see it when I went to Vegas two summers ago, the music from that show has, hands down, been one of the biggest influences in my writing.

I’ll admit that a lot of writing I got done to O was not words of The Noble Project. I was in high school, and in the midst of an epic fantasy with fairy princesses, banished mermaids, and of course, the innocent human who gets himself tangled up in love with said princess.

I know. Gag, right?

In any case, the point is that all of this music really drives me to write, but there is one piece in particular that really spoke of The Noble Project and I am so happy to include it in the unofficial ST.

This track, Simcha, (re-named The First City/The Whorehouse) is a super fun piece that accompanies our trio as they journey off the ship (I know we’re going back a ways here haha) and into the city where Glendale’s tavern is located. It is filled with dancing and wonder as Luke takes in all the new sights:

The city was bustling with people of all sorts, much unlike her town. In her village, everyone had been set in their ways and the ways of their parents before them and their parents before them. Here, it seemed as if people had made their own choices. Women were laughing, men were hauling goods across the streets, and small children were chasing cats and dogs. Musicians sat on the corners, strumming their strings and beating away at various percussive instruments, their hats turned upward, a silent request for a bit of silver.

“This is wonderful!” Luke cried out to Wentworth who was riding carefully alongside her.

“The sun does know how to shine,” he agreed, raising his voice against the noise of the streets.

This was something Luke hadn’t considered. By the sea, this city had the wonderful advantage of having the sun visible at all hours of the day. It reflected off of the ocean’s glassy surface and radiated through the very streets, unlike her own town, where smoke hung thick over the rooftops and caked itself onto the very walls that made up their houses.

“Ah, but there are places far more beautiful than this pit!” Wentworth called to her, giving Rosie’ s reins a small flick and trotting on ahead.

But as the song comes to a close (and I could ask Mr. Frenchie the proper musical term for this, but I’m lazy), it gives a more mystical, slightly haunting feel that melts off oh-so-perfectly as they enter the decrepit old tavern:

When the door shut behind them, Luke felt the brightness of the sun leave her body as autumn leaves are blown from the branches by a gust of wind. There was no light here, not any that gave way to daily living and the cheer from the streets dissipated with each step that she and the blonde man beside her took.

As awkward as she felt in this unknown place, it was Wentworth that stood out. The walls of this place were made of stone, the beams and tables of dark, aged woods. The men that sat at them wore dark breeches, worn to the threads, and dirty linen shirts. Beards, it seemed, were a requirement for entrance. Additionally, every man here was thick. They were huge men, akin to bears if she were going to make such a comparison.

Wentworth, on the other hand, had donned himself in silver today, his buttons a shining onyx, and the embroidered fairy tale scene of his topcoat all varying shades of periwinkle, royal, and navy blues. His boots today were black (his favourite mahogany pair clashed something fierce with the cool tones of the day), and Luke was almost certain it was a real sapphire that was nestled at his neck today.

Despite his obvious overdressing, no one seemed to notice the flamboyant gentleman. Or perhaps they were making a point of avoiding eye contact. Whatever it was, no one was interested in bothering them.

“Where are we?” Luke whispered to him, holding his arm tightly.

The door slammed open, then shut again, and Aiden marched past them, barking an order at the bartender. The man made a few short hand gestures and Aiden crossed his arms, waiting.

“We’ll just be stopping here for a few days,” Wentworth replied cheerily, helping Luke up into a high stool at the bar, “to gather supplies and chart our course, those sorts of things.”

Luke looked around wearily. Aesthetically it didn’t look much different than her father’s tavern. It was a bit bigger, and slightly darker, but really, a tavern was a tavern. This place, however, did not have a homely feel. It was cold and damp and smelled of fish. No one was smiling here, save Wentworth, and even the rats that scurried across the floor were giant beasts of a rodent.

“We’ll be staying here?” she asked, watching as a drunk man drank his last for the day and with a grunt, fell off his chair, unconscious.

And there you have it. Track 04. Have a listen. You’ll like it. 🙂


Mondays are for Music: Track 03

For track three of the score, I’ll admit that we’re falling a little out of order here. Like I said before, this soundtrack came to be before TNP blossomed into an entire series, so this piece actually belongs exclusively to the second book (The Book of Aiden), but I had placed it at the beginning because it is the sound of a time passed.

This piece is another powerful choral piece, from Final Fantasy VIII (I absolutely adore the Final Fantasy series), Liberi Fatali.


Liberi Fatali, affectionately renamed Aiden on Trial, (yes, I have renamed all of these songs to fit my needs because I’m obsessive and a little bit psychotic), is a song for the courtroom, the sound of Aiden and Cale surrendering their friendship, their brotherhood, and declaring war against each other.

Guilt ridden for falling ill, Cale does a rather shoddy job of attempting to administer justice, while Aiden puts on a show of casual murder and fierce anarchy.

It’s a grand ol’ mess where the king strips our hero of both his fortune and his dukedom, and in turn, Aiden makes a point of being remembered, vanishing with a price on his head.

And so begins the hunt.