A Brief Summary of the Trio

 In late March, 2023, we were driving around the island together, listening to music and enjoying a bit of sun and fresh air—when Lark suddenly glanced up and said “Wren, I just got hit with a new story idea,” Or, rather, she had conjured three characters, and the ‘story’ was to be a meanderingly aimless little slice-of-life telling of their day-to-day experiences. She was adamant that there was to be no real, overarching narrative structure, no specific format that it needed to adhere to. These characters would exist as just fun little doodles and scribblings, notes, and the occasional piece of short-form prose—told in no specific order.

The three characters, she explained, are roommates and musicians living on the coast of British Columbia.

First character is a lad named Rafael, a violinist from Monaco who was a highly publicized child prodigy--to the extent of having been a household name during those years he was active under his parent's guardianship. Like any 'child prodigy', he wasn't actually born “””gifted””. His dad comes from a long line of musicians, his mother was a lawyer(turned publicist), and together, the two of them decided that their kid would be a project they could work on together. And so, Raf's future as a musician was charted before he was even conceived. As soon as he could hold a violin, he was holding a violin, and the work continued from there.

Music, how well he could or could not perform, became his entire identity--and even as he began planning his escape from the highly pressurized gilded cage his parents had built around him, he leaned on music as the only thing he felt competent at.

He set his eyes across the ocean to attend Juilliard--a viable way to put distance between himself and his parents that they'd not only allow, but would pay for (with money he technically...'helped' them earn, but he wouldn't dare attempt that conversation with them). And so--he attended Juilliard and graduated, but it was the final nail in the coffin for his love of playing at that time.
School hadn't gone easy on him, and even at the time, he'd have been the first person to confess that he felt outclassed by almost every one of his peers there. Suddenly, the one thing he felt confident and competent doing–he wasn’t sure of anymore. Even just his taste in music was not just pulled into question, but pulled apart and dissected to a microbial level.
But--there was little else for him to do, so he dragged himself to keep making music that he could no longer stand making.

He cut off communication with his parents, refusing to return to Monaco, and disappeared into the Canadian north west, aspiring to become an obscure nobody that no one ever asks about. If he is made to talk about music, he discusses it with a weaponized triteness and refuses to get pulled into serious, academic tones.

In BC, he connects with a fellow estranged family member, his uncle on his dad's side--who warmly helps him get settled and comfy in Vancouver. It's been almost 10 years since Juilliard and he's only just started to claw his way out of the enormous burnout pit he fell into.

And the second lass is largely who he might thank for that.

Her name is Magritte (Margie [hard g] for short). She's lived in Canada her whole life, specifically the swamplands of Northern Ontario. She's always had a rather fond passion for making music, but it wasn't something her parents ever supported as a career choice. She bought her first keyboard with her saved up birthday money when she was 12, and then proceeded to make it everyone's problem from that day forward. Somewhat desperately, and with growing resentment towards her “”distracting”” hobby, her parents attempted to set her on a career path that they felt was sensible, secure, safe, and would provide their daughter with the financial independence they wished they had. Her mom worked shifts at a restaurant, and her father worked in sales--and while their combined income could afford a tenuously middle-class life style, mortgage and credit card debt was a dark specter that nipped painfully every month at their heels.

And so, when it came time to graduate highschool and consider her options for post-secondary education--well, ah...there wasn't much. Her grades were pretty abysmal across the board, and there was nothing Magritte wanted to pursue if it wasn't related to making music. Unfortunately, that wasn't gonna fly under her parents roof, and they felt their daughter needed a reality check that’d force her to reconfigure her priorities...So--they kicked her out as an act of tough love, hoping that the world outside would mold her by force into a productive, independent, gainfully employed adult.

It did not.

It's been a few years since then, and she's gotten by via couch surfing, busking, and scoring the occasional paid gig, but doesn't wanna rent a place since she'd rather save money for school. She WANTS to go to school...for music. But again, her parents made it pretty clear that this was a path they did not want to bet their money on with her. So--she's been saving best she can on her own. Never mind that some emergency or another always finds a way of draining her savings...but she'll get it eventually!

She lands in Vancouver one day and, to make a little pocket change, decides to busk in Granville Station. And this is how she meets Rafael; he notices her taking a bit of heat from a, irritated permit-holding busker, takes pity, and sets up with her (permit and all) to diffuse the situation and deter the attention of lawkeepers.

It's a spontaneous little thing and despite her initial confusion at his intrusion, he's able to explain how astronomical the fine can be if you don't have the stupid laminated piece of paper clearly visible. And so...they play music. And maybe it's not very good music, being wholly off the cuff between two unacquainted strangers but...it's fun.

By the end of it before he can jet, she offers to buy him a coffee, and they get talking a little more--her more than him, but they agree to meet up again for a proper jam session, and they strike up a pretty good little friendship. Their jam sessions become a weekly thing and if she ever recognized his name, she failed to mention it (she does not recognize shit, she has no idea)--and her joyful enthusiasm for music and flagrant disregard for the technical is something he wishes he could just--put into a bottle and preserve forever.

Magritte talks about music as a silly little thing that she loves dearly--like a rascally puppy that frustrates her but can do no harm and could not possibly be loathed for how very delightful it is. Rafael quietly revels in it. It's one thing to listen to someone who knows hardly anything about music talk about it like some magical wonderful gift or witchcraft, while having very little to relate to about it. But Magritte--is good, she plays very well. She knows music. She knows it so very differently from him; a friend, not a boss. A blanket, not a whip. A safe place, not a prison.

She is just thrilled that someone with as much skill and apparent experience as Raf would give her the time of day, even going so far as to teach her things. She wonders about his musical background, but felt the temperature of the room drop the one time she attempted to bring it up in conversation, and hasn't dared touch upon it since. And it's fine. It's not as though she would be very keen to discuss her own musical accomplishments--though for her part, it's more out of embarrassment for the lack.

And it's this same thread of shame-motivated humility that leads her to continuously turn down Raf's invitations to drive or walk her home after their frequent meet-ups--until he's finally able to put it together in his mind that she just doesn't go home. Between her polite declinations, the large duffle bag she carries with her like an oversized purse, and the fact that he's never seen her out and about without her keyboard under arm--he's spurred into replacing "I can drive you home if you want" with "you can crash at my place if you want". And finally, he gets a "oh, yeah? Ok, sure" out of her--because what professional couch surfer would say no to that? And that's how they become roommates.

The End.

Lmao sike, we forgot someone, didn't we? Cortes...alright.

So, Magritte's temporary stay at Raf's apartment becomes definitively less temporary--as decided by the property's landlord who wants to be paid for the extra tenant. This news comes around the same time that Raf receives word of his uncle's death. It's a bit of a rough time overall, but thankfully, heartbreak isn't all the uncle left for his nephew upon his departure from the mortal coil. Rafael inherits from him a very small cabin on an island off the BC coast called Cortes Island.

The pair of musicians ditch the city in favor of moving into the little Cortes cottage...not permanently, they figure. Just long enough to take a little breather and get some shit sorted out.

And it's nice! A bit gentrified, not many permanent residents...it's mostly just a place folks go to during the summer months. Folks who can afford to own and maintain a cabin/house away from the mainland...that they only visit for a month or two every year, tops. Heh.

During this time, Magritte spends many of her hours on the stony, oyster rich shores. And one night, an impossible tidal swell whisks her out into the frigid ocean. It’s unknown how she returned to shore, she doesn’t recall the details. Raf finds her shambling up the road towards the cottage in a disheveled, concussed state, running a high fever with her hands and knees torn up by oyster shells.

She receives medical attention, and then spends the next several days in bed. During those nights while Margie recovers, Raf is haunted by a creature who calls to him from the trees that line the cottage’s property. It calls to him in Margie’s rasping voice—an echo of the things she said whilst freezing to death in the middle of the ocean.

Raf dismisses it as a hallucination brought on by stress and cheap weed—and believes himself to be proven right when it stops appearing once Margie is back on her feet again.

That is—until she invited it inside.

Before Cortes decided to try on being a ‘human’, she existed as an ‘orca’.

Bizarrely, neither of them felt threatened by the otherworldly creature standing in the doorway of the cottage. It’s visage was a poor facsimile of a humanoid appearance, but nevertheless, both Margie and Raf understood it to be human. Still, Raf remained uncomforted by it’s attempts to speak using Margie’s voice, and so the creature—the person—has elected to remain silent ever since.

She adopts the name of the island as her own; Cortes. She also adopts a taste for strawberry rhubarb ice cream, wide-brimmed straw hats, slurpees, recorded music, and percussion. While Cortes can sing with her multi-faceted otherworldly voice, she cannot properly speak without mimicking the voice of someone else in a manner most unsettling. ssSSSSOO the trio are learning sign language together for ease of communication.

Otherwise, Cortes is perfectly normal and wholly unremarkable.  She very loves her little musicians on their little island in their little home, and we think it's safe to say that they quite love her, too.