|Salvation Jane||The radio station has been used for many years, of course, but until recently it seems to have been more sporadic. Since the woman calling herself Salvation Jane, however, it has seen regular even constant use. When she isn't actively at the console playing music or talking to the wastelands, she usually has a holotape set to play songs in her absence.
Tonight, Jane is in the small studio room putting on some classic American Blues. Murmuring into the microphone she sets up the next song, "And this, El Dorado, is one of history's most influential Blues artists.. Howlin' Wolf reminds us all why he is... a Back door man..." her voice smoky and quiet as the song begins to play.
Leaning back, Jane props her booted feet up on the wall, fingers laced behind her head as she listens to the slow blues song and the voice of a man who sounds like ten miles of gravel road.
|Fern|| It's not long into the song before there is a firm knock on the door. Fern doesn't give it much time for the knock to be answered before she pushes the door open and takes a peek inside. As the door groans upon being opened, caramel eyes peer in and search around, quickly spotting Jane there, which breaks the flat line of lips and spreads into a slow grin. "Why hey there.. You must be Jane?" she assumes as she pushes the door open a little more and steps inside.
Fern is dressed as usual with her tank top and pants, nothing fancy at all. The best thing she has is her boots. That and the guitar slung over her shoulder and resting on her back. "Wasn't sure if there was anyone up here at the moment, but I guess there is. I heard the station being more active," she notes in a way to suggest she appreciates it.
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane's feet drop as the knocks are heard and the door opens. She swivels in the tired, wobbly office chair to look at Fern as the young woman enters. She sits up properly and nods, "That's right" she says. "Most of the time I'm here" she pauses to reconsider, "unless I'm not." She moves to stand and offer a hand. "And you are...?" Her gaze moves to the guitar.|
|Fern|| Fern makes her way across the room, a little swagger to her step, and the girl lifts her hand to accept Jane's and give it a firm shake. "Fern. Didn't expect you to know me or anything, though. I'm not always on the radio like you," she says with a little grin as she pulls her hand back and allows it to rest at her side. She studies Jane for a few seconds before she says, "Your face fits the voice. You never know with radio. Could be anything on the other side of the waves, but you look like one might imagine with a voice like yours," she says, nodding firmly once.
Fern takes a look around the room, and once her curiosity of its interior is sated she looks to Jane again and says, "You ain't had nobody come in here to play music lately, have ya?" A brow lifts at that and Fern awaits the answer.
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane shakes the hand and gestures. There's a second chair but it's missing a few casters so it can't roll like the DJ's chair. Wobbly or not. "Not live music, no. I play but.. a few weeks out from arriving here I was attacked by raiders and my guitar was a complete loss. I've been checking over the Roswell scrapyard trying to find enough useful junk to make another. Not that a girl can just replace a pre-war era Resonator with scrap. But it'd do for now.." She moves to light up a cigarette. "Do you smoke?"|
|Fern|| Fern winces when Jane mentions her guitar being ruined for raiders. "Those fuckers. I swear, they ain't ever got nothin' good to do. Why ruin a perfectly good guitar? Fuckers," Fern murmurs with a little soft growl in her tone. "Sorry to hear it. I know how hard it is to find anything nowadays that ain't in more than a few pieces." She snorts softly at that, moving around the room now to check out the equipment.
"Yeah. Whatcha got?" Fern asks in response to Jane's smoke question. The girl does have a faint scent of weed on her. Fern glances to the cigarette and grins, lifting a hand with her fingers slightly parted as if she'd take a drag from Jane's if she was allowed. "I bet you could make a pretty cool guitar out of scrap pieces.. Lotsa crafty people out here.. I'm surprised you haven't had someone help ya put something together yet," she notes.
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane draws slowly on the cigarette then exhales. "Yeah. It was rare. I came across it in the basement - a dry basement - in the middle of Ohio country. It was a 1933 National. You'd have thought it came out of the workshop that same day. The brass was still polished under all the dust.." A sigh. "The radiers were trying to put bullets in me. They didn't care it was strapped across my back."
She offers her hand out, the pack of Big Boss cigarettes mostly empty but for three left. She shakes one out and offers it up. "Yeah. I can make it. I can make a lot of things. It's why the station's been on the air more since I got here. I had to require half the consoles and bypass some corroded power junctions in the building.. The antenna needs some work still too but it'll last a while more."
|Fern|| Nodding, Fern says, "Sounds like you've been busy." She takes the cigarette with a, "Thanks," before she brings it to her mouth and leans over, stealing a light from the end of Jane's lit cigarette. She puffs a few times to get hers going, and once it's lit she rises up and takes a drag from it. She blows the smoke out to the side, then clears her throat.
"Shame.. about your guitar. That hasta be a painful loss.. Damn." She shakes her head, making her scrap of red bandana wiggle against the back of her neck. "I hope you find something some day.. But anyway. I came here to ask a favor. You feeling' like letting some live music go on air? I promise I ain't a shit player."
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane smiles some, holding still for Fern to light up then nods. "Well.. the Greats always said you can't play or sing the blues unless you've known loss. She was my first true love. But I'll always remember the way she felt in my hands. The beautiful tone of her voice as I played her." An exhale of bluish smoke toward the ceiling, "I'll find another guitar to love." She grins. "Probably quite a few..."|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane then gestures, "Once the song's done.. if you'd like to play live, sure? El Dorado would enjoy it I'm sure."|
|Fern||Fern is grinning at Jane's comments on guitars, but she says nothing in response to it. The girl looks away and wanders her way over to the chair and table, looking things over. "I'm sure you will," she eventually says before she pokes her nose around, trying to figure things out. "How's it work? You just flip a switch or something?" Fern asks before she pulls up a stool and sits on the edge of it, swinging her guitar around to her front and putting it over her lap. She strums a few chords, getting her fingers used to the strings while she listens to the song that's being played currently, almost done.|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane stands up and walks over and nods. "A number of switches. But for live? Well we'll just swing the microphone over and put it near the body so it picks up the tones better." She breaks into the broadcast as the song ends. "Good evening, El Dorado, I have a special treat for you tonight. One of your very own has stopped by the studio and graciously offered to play some songs for everyone listening. Your very own Fern. Let's listen to what she wants to share with us."
She swings the mic down as described, positioned to best pick up the music the instrument produces.
|Fern||Fern has slowed her playing when the mic swings over her way, and as she waits for the current song to end she gets her fingers in position. The music ends, the introduction is made and the girl begins to play an upbeat tune. Who knows if it's recognizable by anyone out there listening. It could be, but might not be either. As the intro is played out she starts to sing, and her voice is smooth and steady, "Well, I left Kentucky back in '49 n' went to Detroit workin' n'assembly line. The first year they had me putting' wheels on Cadillacs." She continues to strum along and sing Johnny Cash's 'One piece at a time'.|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane settles in to listen. At first she focuses on the playing, the notes being produced. A nod of appreciation and then Fern begins the song and an amused smile curls on her lips around the cigarette. She relaxes, then, and leans back just to listen and enjoy the music Fern makes.|
|Fern||Fern is comfortable as can be while playing her guitar, hitting just the right notes as if she'd been playing for a long time. As she sings the song she focuses on sitting right with the mic, but she occasionally glances to Jane when the lyrics go funny. She also gives a playful wink once and keeps on playing. It continues for a few minutes, eventually ending with her fading out the years the parts were made in, and with that done she leans back on her stool and guides the mic back over to Jane.|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane listens with enjoyment as the song is played. She shakes her head with amusement as Fern winks at her. As the song ends, Jane offers a nod of approval and brings the mic back up, "And those dulcet tones, El Dorado, were your very own songbird - Fern. When you see her next make sure you thank her for brightening up your evening a little bit. And if you happen to think otherwise, well, poor taste in music was a problem before the war so why shouldn't it, like ignorance, persist even now.. we'll just have to properly educate you. Keep listening." She puts on more music and the first notes of Ricky Nelson's Travellin' Man start to play out.
Muting the mic she smiles. "Very nice, Fern. You've got talent."
|Fern|| Fern laughs at what's said about having bad taste, and her eyes sparkle with amusement. She relaxes there on that stool while listening to Jane, and soon she's saying, "Thanks. I try." Another grin is shown. "I was out scavenging one day and came across this old music shop.. Lots of books, most of 'em destroyed, but there were a few left. One was how to teach yerself guitar. So I taught myself.. and there were some others with sheet music. Cash was one of 'em. I like most his stuff in the book. It's good," she says.
With her playing done, Fern eventually hops from the stool. "Thanks for letting me play. You ever need some company up here, just send word for me. I'm sure someone will know where I am." She grins. "Thanks again, Jane. Sea around." With that Fern's headed out, back to the wastes.