Writers Block

rylie_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Rylie's Townhouse

When: July 19, 2012; Evening

What: An idea for a film comes to light, and Rylie convinces Zan to go for it.

It may very well be a regular thing now. The after work hour coupled with the smell of cooking food coming from Rylie's kitchen. Zan doesn't mind cooking, after all, and it gives Rylie a chance to unwind after work. Tonight it's roasted lemon-pepper chicken breasts, rosemary potatoes, greens, and french bread. While nothing fancy, it does smell as if it could be.

And though it's at a point where it fairly well cooks itself, prep work completed and food in various cook spots, Zan still lingers in the kitchen to babysit. He's sitting on the counter, bent over a notebook. The page is already half filled with notes, and he's adding more to it. Or sometimes crossing a word or three out and later replacing somewhere else on the page.

After work, Rylie came home and shed layers; a jacket here, a vest there, shoes at the base of the stairs, a shirt tossed over the banister, all leaving a trail behind her. But when she comes back down, it's in much more relaxed attire. She slips into the kitchen and over to lean beside Zan's legs. Her first order of business is to press a kiss to his cheek, but she looks over at the notebook shortly there after.

"Smells good," she says, of the food, but nods toward the paper, "What're you working on?"

While he doesn't look up right away when Rylie enters, Zan smiles when she comes over to him. "Should be good," he says as he leans over a little further. He kisses her forehead, then turns the notebook enough to be seen easily. Mostly chicken scratches, and something that could be considered quasi-legible words take up much of the paper, though there's little discernible rhyme or reason.

"Remember Mrs. Crain's offer," he asks, returning his gaze to the paper. Soon after, his expression turns a little sour, like he'd bitten into something a little rank. "Compiling ideas, and… Basically trying to flesh out enough for a screenplay."

"You've got to learn not to make that face if you're going into business with her," Rylie says, her lips curving into a crooked smile. She looks back to him, though, head tilting. "You wrote it in code, I see," she teases, just before she moves to stand in front of him, hands resting on the counter on either side of him. "So you're going to have to tell me about it. What's the idea?"

One of the lines already committed to the page is scratched out, and Zan's expression, for a second, turns almost contemplative. A grin cracks and he looks at her again. "What face," he asks before setting notebook and pencil behind him. His hands, freed of distraction, find hers before he answers again.

"You know the old ghost stories," he says, "about the park in Henderson? The murders that happened and the supposed hauntings. I was thinking I'd come up with something about that. —Low budget, more than enough for an amateur."

"The face you get whenever a Crain comes up in conversation," Rylie gives his hand a squeeze, grinning back at him. "I would be flattered, but Mrs. Crain never slept with me."

She lifts an eyebrow at the description, a touch of puzzlement on her features. "What ghost stories? Out of all the murders in Vega, we have ghost stories about Henderson?" Not familiar, but at the same time, the smile doesn't fade away. "Horror is a great genre for low budget. And it's fun; that's a bonus."

"Oh. That face was the result of me changing my mind." For the rest, and possibly a result of actually bringing a Crain other than Mrs. Crain into the conversation, Zan's expression shifts away from the grin, to something a little darker and more repulsed. He hasn't just bitten into something going bad; it's worse. Again for just a second or two, then he looks down and shrugs.

"There's a park in Henderson," he explains after a beat. "Couple of kids were murdered. Don't think the case was ever solved, but people claim to have seen them. Or apparitions around the murder site." A shrug follows, slow, before he looks up at her again. "We have ghost stories here, too, you know. I'm just brainstorming."

"Oh, is that what that was," Rylie says, chuckling lightly. Of course, at the other face, she smiles crookedly before she comments, "I take it back, that one isn't flattering at all." It's teasing, mostly.

When he explains the story, though, she nods along. "Creepy kids, that's the worst." She even shudders some. "I like it, though. It has a lot of potential there. I'm sure you can make something kickass out of it."

"Oh, is that what that was," Rylie says, chuckling lightly. Of course, at the other face, she smiles crookedly before she comments, "I take it back, that one isn't flattering at all." It's teasing, mostly.

When he explains the story, though, she nods along. "Creepy kids, that's the worst." She even shudders some. "I like it, though. It has a lot of potential there. I'm sure you can make something kickass out of it."

"There's one from around here that might work as well," Zan says, musing. "Janitor with blood on his hands haunting one of the high schools." He shrugs a little, then leans forward to rest his forehead against hers, arms draped on her shoulders. "Or the one about kid in another park that turns into a demon whenever he's seen."

"Or the one about the film student who went to make a slasher movie about a local legend and the legend ends up haunting the production," Rylie says, playful. She smiles and slides her arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer to the edge, "Where do you get these stories, anyway? I never heard them."

Lifting his head just a little, Zan looks at her as if she'd come up with something brilliant. "I like that idea," he says quietly, head returning to resting against hers. "Everywhere. People, the Internet. There's a few haunted town tours that go through the city and looks at supposedly haunted places. Touristy, but might be amusing." He shrugs a shoulder, a little, then slides off the counter in front of her, arms tightening some around her.

"Based on an idea by Rylie Abrams, don't forget," she says with a laugh; flattered, but also amused. She steps back just enough to give him room to get down, but her arms stay around him. And she moves back in close once he's on the floor. "We should totally go check them out. And old graveyards. In the dark! You know, just to get the feel. And the ambience. And all that stuff."

"You're definitely getting credit for it," Zan says, smiling. He leans back a little, to lean against the counter, and he pulls her with him. "Film research," he agrees, hands sliding down to her waist. "We can definitely do that. Bring my camera, get a visual sample of settings. We should do it soon."

"I'm holding you to that," she says with a crooked smile as she leans along with him. "You just have to promise not to scare me on purpose. No popping out from dark corners or any of that." Given that she doesn't have her heels on, Rylie is the perfect height to lay her head on his shoulder, which is what she does next. "Hmm? We shou— Oh, yeah, we totally should. Maybe we can skip the desert and tour some scary stuff instead."

"I promise you'll get full credit for the movie," Zan says, "and I won't scare you on purpose much." Though he keeps his tone solemn, he's grinning a little. It softens when she puts her head on his shoulder, and he lifts a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "We don't have to go tonight," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on hers. "Just soon. This weekend, or next week maybe."

Rylie's eyes close when he tucks back that piece of hair, and she smiles softly against his neck. "Soon. Whenever you want, really. You know where to find me." She lifts her head up there, though, to smirk over at him. "Not much, huh? That's the best I'm going to get out of you?" She tries to make it sound more disappointed than she looks, even though it only works a little.

Zan tilts his head and looks at her. "I could scare you a lot," he offers, entirely innocent. "If you'd rather." He grins playfully, then tips his head forward to kiss her. "But I guess I won't." His arms give her a squeeze. "We'll go soon. I'll get some notes written out so we have a plan, too. It'll be fun. And not too scary."

"Not if you want a happy Rylie, you won't!" Rylie laughs, though, and kisses him back. So she must not mind too terribly. She even makes him pause so she can kiss him again. "Fun and a little scary. Sounds perfect." There's a glance toward where the food is cooking, but just for a moment before she looks back to him again. "Fair warning. My screaming is loud and embarrassing. So. Take that into consideration."

"Oh, my hero," Rylie retorts with a teasing grin. That grin turns into a chuckle at his question, though, and she presses a kiss to his cheek before she leans back to look at him. "I've heard about this. Girl comes to the big city, a 'director' offers her a part in his 'indie film'," she says, complete with finger quotes. "Would I get to be someone badass or would I have to be the girl that trips over something and gets eaten right off?"

"I am nothing if not cliche," Zan says, sagely. He leans back, head tilting left then right, while he looks at her. "I think you could do badass. Maybe voice overs if you have a good scream. Probably wouldn't have you die." He considers, reaching up to lift her chin a little, scrutinizing without any seriousness. "Nah, not eaten. Nearly caught, barely escapes, but not eaten." He smiles and then shrugs a little. "Just wondering if you had. Since you're a wonderful singer."

Rylie smacks him playfully on the arm at that scrutiny, but a laugh soon follows. "I could go for a close call," she says as she steps back to peek at the food herself. "Oh, I'm okay. I'm better with the drums," she says with a wave of her hand, "But, I have thought about acting before. Never did get around to it, though. But the way I see it, I do a lot of acting for work as it is." She's only half serious there, and it comes with a wink in his direction.

"Ow, so violent." Zan makes a show of rubbing his arm and checking for damage. As she goes on, he looks at her, brows pushing upward. "Okay? Rylie, I've heard you sing, you were definitely more than just okay. You were awesome." He steps away from the counter to look at the food now, too, and grabs a hot pad to take the chicken and potatoes out. They're set out to cool a little before serving as he turns to look at her. "Want to be in a low-no-budget, terribly cliche, amateur, indie horror film?"

"Well. Thanks," Rylie says, a little smile peeking through a slightly embarrassed expression. "Music has always been the only thing I really had passion for. As much as my family really, really wishes I was a politician." She looks over at him as she steps over to the refrigerator to get out drinks, his question drawing over her attention, "It's been a lifelong dream of mine to be in a low-no-budget, terribly cliche, amateur, indie horror film." She manages a straight face, even, but a smile isn't far behind.

"You're really talented," Zan says, offering a small smile along with his quiet honesty. He goes to take a couple of plates down, looking at her after setting them on the counter. He's sort of cringing, grinning, but cringing. "I'm completely failing at this casting thing, aren't I? Maybe I should just forget the whole thing."

Reaching over, Rylie puts a hand on his arm. "Hey. Don't you dare. Do it. I want to help. And putting me in there saves you a bunch of the budget right there. I can help with the music, too. You do this. It'll be fun, and get your name out there." She reaches up to take his face in her hands, "And it won't be terrible or cliche. You're talented, too, you know."

He might not look so sure as he studies her face, nervous about the undertaking, but Zan relents after a moment. "I don't know about the talented part," he says with a small shrug. "I want to try, I'm just not sure it'll be worth any funding that'd be offered." He takes in a steadying breath and musters a smile, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Thank you. Really going to need a lot of help with this project."

"All you can do is give it a try. You'll always regret it if you walk away from it, you know. And every film maker has to do a first movie sometime, right?" Rylie's hands drop to take his, and she steps closer to him, "Well, I'm here to help. Even if it's just to be the cheerleader." She gives him a little tug, her smile softer now. "Come on, let's eat and we can plan out our horror tour for next week."

Smiling a little easier, Zan leans over to kiss her cheek. "Knew you were something special," he says quietly, touching his head to hers for a second. Then he lets himself be tugged along to dish up supper.

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