How Green Becomes Wood

"I might play something," Daizi said, "Would that be weird for you?"

"As long as I am not required to play or sing along with you, that would be fine. Would you like for me to help you set up? Though I know nothing about keyboards," she admitted. "I could catch the attention of the waitress and request her aid."

"No, I wouldn't force you to do anything like that," Daizi promised, "Asking the waitress would probably be for the best, I'm not sure if there's a sign up sheet or if it's a situation where if you just walk up."

Ciara caught the waitress's attention again, and they discussed the matter. The keyboard was open for use, and the open mic was a loose sign up. If it was a slow night, whoever wanted to could just get up and take a turn. If it was a busy night, there was a list. This was a medium night, so there was a list, but it was short. Daizi would only need to wait for two more acts, and then she could take a turn. The waitress did not really know how to set up the keyboard, but she knew someone who did and promised they'd be availible to help out when it was Daizi's turn.

During the two songs where Daizi had to wait, she continued her conversation with Ciara while she thought about what song she wanted to sing. By the time it was her turn, she took her cane and made her way up to the stage, and the visual of it hushed the chatting crowd slightly, while a staff member helped set up the keyboard and move a microphone to her. Folding up her cane, she set it next to her on the bench, and then played a bit on the keys to familiarize herself a bit with that particular instrument.

"Normally, when I play this song," She said into the mic as she did so, only flinching slightly in surprise at the echo of her voice, which she did every time she spoke into a microphone, "I play it on my harp, or I sing it while running wildly through my house when I'm alone, and I haven't warmed up at all, you you have to give me some slack." Some few people near the front chuckled politely at her comments, and despite speaking to an entire room of strangers, Daizi nonetheless seemed relaxed and affable with them.

The song she played began with a few bars of only the piano, which she performed delicately and skillfully. Anybody who knew the song would recognize both what she was about to play from the intro, but also wouldn't recognized she added a bit of complexity. It demonstrated her skill but really she only added it to compensate for the lack of other instrumentation.

Then, she began to sing:
Memory fails me, names and faces blur
There is only after or before
Am I so different, have I changed?
I do not recognize my face
The scar fades but pulls inside
Tugging at me all the time
Chewing on a feeling and spitting it out
Crouched in a ball gown
Anxious and ashamed
The vague humiliations of fame

Her voice began delicately, sounding wistful and ephemeral. It was as though she was not only sending the music outwards but also breathed it in, moving with it, as though there were no audience, no shifting of seats, no children at home. There was only this. Finishing the first verse, she began singing the chorus, and her voice only grew in power and passion.

I do not find worthiness in virtue
I no longer try to be good
It didn't keep me safe
Like you told me that it would
So come on, tear me wide open
A terrible gift
Let the chorus console me
Sympathy magic
The emotion was clear not only in her voice but in her face, and the way her shoulders and arms moved as she hit the keys. It was a song which, when she first heard it in 2025, she felt had been written for her especially. Now, performing it in this random place, she continued playing the higher notes with her right hand, but slowly lifted her left, her fingers spreading wide, her voice yet again softening as she sang:

And light coming in the window just so
And the wind through my fingers
The only God that I know.

Then, lifting her right hand in much the same way, she began singing, now fully acapella:

And it does not want me on my knees to believe
Head high, arms wide
Aching-aching-aching

With both arms stretched up and out, using the full haunting power of her voice she sang:

And alive
And alive
So I don't have to be worthy
I no longer try to be good
It didn't keep me safe
Like you told me that it would
So come on, tear me wide open
'Til I'm losing my mind
'Til I cannot contain it
La-da-da-da-da-da-da
She put her hands back on the keys to finish the song out, only breaking the emotion with the softest delighted chuckle as a person or two in the audience who knew the song began to clap to the beat, which got some of the other audience members to join along as best they could.

So come on, come on, I can take it
Give me everything you got
What else, what else, what else, what else
So come on, come on, I can take it
Give me everything you got
What else, what else, what else, what else

Like Florence Welch did in the concert, she finished the song by slowing down the instrumentals and just singing, Come on, come on, come on and Sympathy Magic until it felt natural for the song to simply end with one last, So come on, come on, I can take it. Give me everything you got. What else, what else, what else, what else."

Ciara did not clap along with everyone else, but she did listen intently, her head cocked slightly to one side. The song was beautiful, almost magical, and powerful, but it made her feel uncomfortable in a way she did not fully understand. There was a lot of meaning behind the words, she could feel it, and the quiet parts seemed somehow louder than the loud parts, but it was all... discomforting. Almost frightening. She did not like it one bit, but she recognized Daizi's incredible talent and the emotion behind it. When she finished the song, Ciara quietly clapped along in recognition of talent, if not her own enjoyment.

When the audience applauded, Daizi froze for a moment in surprise before breaking out into a big grin. It had been ages since she had last performed for an actual crowd, and after murmuring a thank you into the microphone, she picked up her cane and walked to the edge of the stage where an employee was waiting to help her find her seat again, because her sense of space was utterly thrown off by the adrenaline.

"That was fun," She said to Ciara as she sat down, rather proud of her performance but not knowing exactly what to say after it.

"That was an incredible performance, and you seemed to quite enjoy yourself," Ciara remarked. "I did not know that you were musically inclined beyond some singing." Singing while running around the house, that is, and not out in public. Daizi's performance had been far beyond anything Ciara had expected.

"Oh thank you," Daizi said, suddenly feeling strangely embarrassed, and she felt around the table for wherever she had left her glass before she got up to sing, "It's like what we were talking about earlier, there was so much my dad did not let me do when I was young, so I had... a lot of time to practice music. I also play the harp, and I taught Alec piano."

"You taught him very well, and you learned well, yourself," Ciara remarked. "I look forward to a time when I might hear your harp."

"There's actually going to be a music and arts festival at the end of July," Daizi told her, "Myself, my friend Ellis, and some of the members of the choir she sings with are doing a little show, and I'm playing harp in it. It's more built up than that, we have... costumes and minor choreography and sort of a loose narrative. You should go."

"I will consider it," Ciara agreed. "If you will text or email me the dates, please." After a moment, she finished her drink and asked, "The song you sang. What does it mean?"

"I'll send it to you. It'd mean a lot if you could go," Daizi told her, then turned her head slightly to the side, "What does it mean? Do you mean to me, or to the artist, or...?"

Ciara frowned slightly. "Can a song have more than one meaning? I suppose I would like to know what the person who wrote it meant."

"Songs are poetry, of course they can," Daizi replied, "I guess... Well, I don't know if Florence Welch ever explicitly wrote what it meant to her, and I can go on a whole lecture about her life, and the themes in her discography, but... While touring for the album which came directly before the one that song was on, she had an ectopic pregnancy, and it almost killed her. The entire album, it's my favourite of hers, it's like it was written for me, is about love and grief and that kind of loss... and what it's like to be a woman just..." She waved one hand, "Trying to survive. And I think that song, Sympathy Magic, is just a song that gives permission to let go. To just... stop. And exist, and breathe, and let yourself feel everything, even if it's messy or unpalatable. And like... To me?"

She inhaled for a moment, running her finger along the rim of her glass, "I feel like there's always been such an expectation to be 'good.' Whatever that means, to stay nice, or obedient, or polite, and we're taught it'll protect you. That you'll be fine if you just behave, if you stay orderly... But it doesn't actually keep you safe. And if you're still going to suffer anyway, if you're still going to go through so much loss and pain, then..." She shrugged, "Why not just feel it? And share it? Why make yourself small, if being small can't save you?"

Ciara had no idea what to do with all of that information. Not that it was too much information, but the topic of it. It felt all too personal and sensitive. Why would anyone want to publicise such a delicate situation to the world? That was not something you were supposed to talk about. Such things were to be kept private, and you grieved quietly. Not with an entire album. It was too personal, and far too indecent to share with other people, not to mention inconvenient to trouble them with such emotions and problems that were not their responsibility. Wasn't it? And everyone should stay behaved, neat, and orderly regardless of gender. Shouldn't they? Yes, men had a much higher tendency to act silly and make a mess of things, and, yes, women had to clean up after them, but if everyone would just behave, then there would be far less fuss in the world. That wasn't making yourself small. That was... proper. Wasn't it?

"That is an interesting viewpoint to take," Ciara said at last. "It is clear that both you and this artist feel it very deeply."

There was a lot Daizi could hear in what Ciara wasn't saying, and she nearly said more about why it was something she felt seriously about. She could talk about her father, and the pain filial piety had burdened her with. Or about how difficult it was to go through child loss and infertility but still be expected to pick yourself up and go into work. But instead she just asked, "Do you ever howl? Have you ever just dropped your head back like a dog and howled?"

Ciara sat and stared in silence at Daizi for several beats. Then she reached out and delicately plucked the glass from Daizi's reach and set it aside. "I believe it is time to get you home. It is getting late, after all, and I am sure you will need some sleep."

"No, I'm serious!" Daizi laughed, "I know I sound crazy, but listen, have you? Because if you haven't, you should try it. Not here, obviously, but somewhere when you're alone. It's the most freeing thing. It's like screaming but doesn't hurt your throat."

Ciara gently shook her head. "No, I do not think I shall try that," she said almost soothingly. "Thank you for the suggestion. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."