FERNWEN

andrew berg. 21. 2nd year. drama drinking coffee in hopes it will fix everything

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

Perhaps she could have been more careful with her words, but then again, she was a mess that day. A grin broke across her face as she stared at Andrew yawn. They were both students, so she understood how he felt, although she does not recall ever being as tired as him. Phantomhive was demanding to say the least. Blair nodded sympathetically, offering him a thumbs-up as encouragement.

She foolishly realised that he was talking about the crumpled piano sheets in her hand. “I was just studying some of Beethoven’s pieces until someone knocked them out of my hands and dirtied them.” Grumbling, her face twisted into a rare frown – maybe it was because of how badly the day was treating her. “They didn’t even bother to help me pick them up.” As she noticed how petty she was being, she lets out a forced laugh.

No, she was supposed to be the happy one. “It’s no big deal, really. It… It just would have been nice if they apologised or something. But hey, at least it led me to see you here.” In her hands, she attempts to straighten the pieces of papers.

Beethoven he knew. He’d heard a few pieces but nothing too rare. It allowed him to nod, press his lips into a line as he often did, but this time in understanding. Andrew lacked knowledge of himself, but one thing he would not describe himself as is dramatic. Somehow, he was. Not externally, but was it his usual foul mood or not, he could easily understand that sometimes the world was a place that simply...sucked. There was no other way to put it.

The laundry machine began moving faster, trembling in the process, forcing Andrew to remove his elbow from its surface, and grab his coffee before it spilled on the ground. “I guess it’s working,” he remarked, awkwardly. He was thankful for the air-conditioning, but less so for the sweater he was wearing. “Do you practice a lot?” The question was asked while he moved to sit on one of the plastic chairs, propped against the wall. “I’ll do the second load when I put this one in the dryer, so we have some time.”

[bergandrew-blog]

choiflo

The nod was enough. Relaxing his posture a bit further, Florian shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, keeping a friendly smile on his face. Andrew was interesting enough and who knew how he might come in handy in the future. This was, considering what he’d gathered from their conversation so far, a good first step. Something in the back of his mind, feeling suspiciously like wounded pride, demanded he do better, but right now there wasn’t much sense in elaborating on that.

“Ah, right, right!” Florian nodded. He wasn’t a literature person at all, but he’d heard a few interesting things about this course. “I bet it comes in handy for your studies, too! I’ve only read a few pieces, mostly tragedies, for school, but they were all pretty fascinating!”

“Yeah, that’s mostly why I picked it. We study the tragedies, too, in depth and there’s room for re-enactment so I don’t get bored.” Andrew would not be using fascinating to describe them. There was something very human about the plays. They did not gain the oooh’s and the aaah’s of the audience with the same ease as Romeo & Juliet or Hamlet, but they struck deep. General Psychology was a random choice that was slowly driving him towards skipping the class all together.

The polite thing was to ask something in return. Andrew had been avoiding that particular rule of etiquette for a few minutes now, until it reached a point where the silence was deafening to his ears. “Do you take any...” - a brief pause- “..literature classes?”

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

“It was getting too stuffy in the comforts of her home, in the end, she had chosen to escape into the streets. A few piano pieces gripped tightly in her hands, she made her way down the street, stopping to look left and right to familiarise herself with her surroundings every so often.

Perhaps it was fate that someone had pushed into her, causing all her papers to fall onto the ground. She lets out a sigh, picking them all up, mumbling under her breath. Today has not been a good day for her – her air conditioner broke and now, her notes were all dirty. With a groan, she glanced to the store on her left, eyes instantly catching sight of someone she knew.

Scrambling into the shop, she wore a casual smile, before tapping him on his shoulders. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She remarked, scanning the whole laundromat. Sure, she had seen those in movies and television shows before but she had never actually been inside one. It was much neater then she expected. “Do you need help in loading the second pile? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Normally, people jerk violently when being tapped while in a somewhat relaxed state. Andrew, however, was numb, so he removed his hands from his face, almost knocking off his coffee cup. Blair stood beside him, all smiles, but with a hint of annoyance about her features. A few pages of notes and scribbles Andrew failed to understand were gripped tightly in her hand, partially dirty as if they had been stepped on.

“Hi,” he uttered hastily. The comment about his appearance made him a little self-conscious. His fingers reached for his eyes, rubbing them to induce a kind of liveliness. And then he yawned. The fluorescent lights, the sunset painting the sky into a warm still life, the lack of people in the laundromat; the combination made him sleepy. It was daily life that made him tired. “Didn’t sleep well.” Entirely true. “What are these?” He pointed at the notes in her hand, propping himself on his elbow again.

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

Blair smiles, the thought of reminiscing about her mothers teaching her how to play the piano for the first time replaying in her head. After all, they were the one that introduced the precious instrument to her. “She sounds lovely,” She complimented, glancing at the small smile on his face. He must have adored his mother a lot and it warmed her heart to see that. Her heart was aching, just thinking about the two of them – she needed to talk to them soon, especially after all the exhilaration of being in a new school dies of.

She blurts out laughing. “Really?” She found it amusing, sure, she had heard of people being ‘married to their work’ but imagining all the students in Phantomhive to have such a blazing passion for their work made her excited. It made her want to push herself to the extreme. “I guess I am then.” Cheerfully, she glanced at the auditorium that was filled with students already. “How long more do you have before your lessons start? I definitely don’t want to hold you back.” She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed for holding him back for quite a while already. “Hopefully, I’d get to see you around school, or maybe even outside.”

It was not the most renowned performing arts school for nothing. People worked themselves to death sometimes, or they were pushed to the bottom of the social food chain forever. Phantomhive promised what others schools could only wish they could offer their students; the chance to become a professional artist whose name would grace from tabloids to history books. Andrew often evaluated his own commitment, always arriving to the same conclusion: he was barely surviving. But he had time to find himself yet.

Andrew glanced at his phone, realizing that he was in fact two minutes late. By reflex, he grabbed his forehead, oh no. “Yeah, that’s it, I’ll see you around.” Almost tripping over his own feet, he avoided grazing Blair’s arm as he paced towards the classroom. Before slipping inside the room, he turned to give her a small, awkward smile through pressed lips. He always meant it when he said he’d see someone around.

[bergandrew-blog]

choiflo

“Oh, right!” Florian nodded in understanding. That made sense. “Looks like your friend’s running a bit late too, huh?” He looked around trying to identify who Andrew might be referring to. “If you don’t mind me, I could keep you company for the time being!” It wasn’t like he had much time left and he might as well make the most of meeting this new face. There’d be enough time to talk to his friends (that was the closest thing to an appropriate term for them, after all) later.

“Ooh! What department do you study in? Probably should’ve asked sooner, oops!” He laughed, only feeling half as sheepish as he made himself sound.

Andrew decided not to elaborate on his lie. Nor did he state whether he minded or not, but his body language elaborated on his small nod. The panic in his eyes was slowly dissipating, allowing the frozen colour to show a few specks of warmth. It wasn’t to say that he was growing used to Florian’s easy-going style, if you could call it that. Andrew would not consider himself so arrogant as to claim ‘a sixth sense’, but he trusted his instincts. Presently, they told him to both run and stay, which was confusing and disarming at the same time.

“Drama, but I take Greek Lit. in this auditorium.” A spontaneous choice, and a spontaneous confession. Perhaps Florian’s skills of bewitchment were finally working on uneasy Andrew.

[jonasxkahnwald]

#TIFF2017

[bergandrew-blog]

starter;;: 

   Once a week, late evening, Andrew dressed in whatever clothes he had left that felt clean —  on this particular day it was khaki shorts, a light sweater of indiscernible colour, blue socks that reached his ankle and his usual pair of converse sneakers — and embarked on a journey to the laundromat. Every single time the loneliness he felt was indescribable. His father was responsible for the laundry, all the siblings were expected to help. Walking alone with a bag of dirty clothes, the absence of family felt like a dagger to his chest.

He reached his destination with a paper cup of americano in hand, fished a few coins out of his pocket and began his usual routine of arranging his clothes into two piles of colourful and colorless, all the while thinking that he would have loved to have his father by his side explaining to him the basic points of a film plot and how most screenwriters these days knew scheisse about them. He loaded the first pile into the washing machine and in a rare manifestation of exhaustion, propped his elbows on the device and buried his face in his hands.

[bergandrew-blog]

nora-rinne

“Then let’s get out of here before even more people decide to crowd the place,” she declared. A bag that had previously been at her feet was now hung over her shoulder. With swift movements, Nora put away the nightmare of a book, laying it next to her sacred sketchbook. This and a small pencil case were the two things Nora never left home without. An opportunity to create could present itself at any minute. She wanted to be prepared. On the lookout. It’s how she first met Andrew, after all, sketching him from afar. Nora glanced backward to make sure he was keeping up with her as she maneuvered through the crowded West wing onto the street. Finally out in the open, she looked at Andrew once again. “Got any café requests or will good old Starbucks do?”

Andrew did not carry backpacks, only to class and even then he mostly carried his notebook in his hand and stuffed everything else into his pockets. He was skinny and bought a lot of baggy clothes for this purpose. You could find pens, chewing gum, receipts and his phone all stuffed into one pocket at times. It’s a good thing he hadn’t destroyed his belongings in the washing machine yet. With Nora he had developed a relationship based on their crafts. Somehow - and he would never say that to her face in order not to freak her out - but sometimes she was the sole reason he memorized his lines. Out of the blue, she would propose they do a coffee run or chill at the park, and he grabbed his textbook just in case. She was one of those people he considered friends without knowing if the feeling is mutual, but also working on his acting while she sketched in his presence immersed him into a vibe that was more hardworking than he usually achieved by himself. Nora was a kind of incentive, just seeing the love she had for her art. “I want to say Starbucks,” Andrew replied, ever the hipster, “-but you make me sound boring.” It was a playful comment, of which he voiced very few. “Anywhere with coffee.”

[bergandrew-blog]

choiflo

“Five– oh. Good! I was already worried I’d be late.” Florian carried on, trying not to let Andrew’s particular lack of reaction deter him. The other boy seemed to be paying attention to him, so he guessed for now that he really was just on the shy, stoic side, rather than not up to having a chat. He could work with that.

“Are you in this class too?” He did his best to try and remember seeing Andrew last year, though he had a hard time with it. “I thought this was a continuation from last year’s course, hence the confusion,” he quickly added in clarification.

Given Andrew’s early years - and teenage years for that matter - it was difficult to say why he felt the need to linger outside a class that he did not take. The possibilities were endless, a few crossed his mind as a probable answer, a few even sounded somewhat normal and excuses that a stalker would use. Taking into account his affinity for honesty ( to a certain extent one would say he had a love for honesty, seeing as he rarely chose to lie  and it always became a heavy burden for days to come ) Andrew searched for the true answer, the one that rang in his mind as his ulterior motive. It was sad to realize that he was simply waiting for someone he knew, someone he could talk to, or someone new that he would enjoy meeting. Was this the case? Superficial chatter was not in his top 10 list of desired outcomes, though, he didn’t blame Florian for that.

“I’m waiting for a friend.” A half-truth; better than a lie. His eyes darted around briefly, anywhere but Florian. “Probably is. I wouldn’t know.” It was the perfect opportunity to escape, say something along the lines of I gotta go, bye! and hide somewhere. He didn’t.

“I have a class here later.”

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

She knew close to nothing about the end-of-semester play, and honestly, she did not see the point in finding out about it — it would be much better as a surprise for when the day finally comes. It would make sense if it was only for those specialising in acting, however, she found herself hoping that there would be one for those in music too. Nonetheless, Blair was truly excited to see him on stage, performing, even more so now that she knew that his mother is an actress. Maybe it was genetics or something?

She lets out an amazed gasp, “That’s so cool! So, she’s your inspiration, huh?” That would make total sense — besides, her parents were why she decided to focus on music too. “I’m specialising in the piano.” She sighed, imagining the piano in front of her, “It’s a beautiful creation, honestly.” Humming, you glanced back at him, giggling to herself. “I sound like I’m in love with it. But can you blame me? I’ve decided to spend my whole life with it.” Most people would think that she was joking whenever she talked about her future as a pianist, but Blair never was. It was something she loved doing — and forever well, that, she was sure of.

Andrew could not quite colour his mother as an inspiration. He remembered seeing her shine on stage, lead a play, narrate, do all sorts of interesting things. It had been equally interesting to watch his father write down notes about movies and then copy them into a full text on his computer. His siblings were artistic in their own right. His older sister pursued creative writing, his younger siblings were still figuring it out between canvases and karaoke nights. It was not until he stepped foot on a stage, tried his luck at improvising a few times and finally settled to learning lines by heart and giving them life that he decided that maybe this is it. “She’s more like an instructor.” A gentle smile appeared. He missed her terribly.

All the family talk, or maybe just the interest, but it was enough to ease his neurotic soul a little bit. You could see it in his shoulders, slightly hunched but not rigidly so, in his hands being no longer in his jacket pockets but resting casually on the straps of his backpack, if you looked carefully you could detect the lines on his face; that ever-present forehead wrinkling had left a few small imprints that would fade in minutes, however, it was mostly gone. “You’re in the right school then. Most people here treat their craft like a marriage.” Did Andrew? Yes, but a marriage he had more effort to put into.

[bergandrew-blog]

choiflo

Florian nodded, seemingly undeterred. He wasn’t quite certain whether the other generally wasn’t one to talk much, being shy or not interested altogether (though, without wanting to sound too cocky, his money was on either one of the former options).

“It’s a pleasure, Andrew.” He punctuated the handshake with another smile. “I look forward to talking more in the future!”

The bustle slowly seemed to be dying out around them, although he could still feel a few piercing glances in his back. He’d grown used to it; though not comfortable they were validation and confirmation, that his magic was still working. “Though maybe not right now — how much time do we have left?” He nodded towards the auditorium. He’d been cutting it close as it had been, more idle chatter would have to wait until later.

Talking more in the future. The notion both excited and scared him. The brief exchange had left him wanting more; wanting something. A trick, a secret. How does he do it? How can he say those things without knowing if he would be able to fullfil the underlying promise that rang in Andrew’s mind. However, he guessed that he was simply that kind of individual. A different kind than Andrew, who could not say talk soon without meaning that given the opportunity he would try his best to engage in conversation.

“Five minutes,” he answered after a brief look at his phone. He had fractured the screen a while back, which made it difficult to say if they had five or eight minutes left. He decided to go with the shorter version out of habit. Or an instinct to run away from conversation that he could not offer more to. Plus, this was not actually his class.

[bergandrew-blog]

andrew berg

░ ☆  BASICS:

Name: ; Andrew ; an-droo; Jahn; e-a-hn

Meaning of Name:  andrew - derived from Greek, meaning manly, jahn - god is gracious, hebrew

Story Behind Character’s Name: his mother’s favorite artist is andy warhol, but she didn’t like the derived version, so she named him andrew. she also included jahn in case he decided to use a name that was more german-sounding.

Does Character Like/Dislike Their Name & Why: he decided to use andrew, rarely mentioning that he has a second name. he likes it, especially now, he sounds more normal in an english speaking country.

Age: 21

Birthdate: september 27, 1997

Gender: cis male

Sexual Orientation:  homosexual

Social Class:  middle upper class

Occupation:  drama student

Zodiac Sign: libra

░ ☆  PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES:

Height: 1,75 cm

Build: slim, lanky

Skin: pale

Hair Colour: dirty blond

Eye Colour: blue/gray

Face Shape: oval

Piercing: none

Tattoos: none

LIKES :  coffee / memes / comfortable clothes / staying in bed / sunshine in cold weather / listening to music being played in another room / talking to his family / train rides / baroque era buildings / gothic churches / ankle boots / oversized clothing / cats / 80′s teenage movies / silent films / nature’s sounds / lakes / bike rides / denim / looking at the stars / shakespeare

AESTHETIC  :  closing night of a play / lingering after a hug is over / the feeling of almost being found during hide’n’seek / family meals / the anticipation before an actor delivers the opening line / ordering a venti at starbucks and regretting it seconds later / the sky being reflected in a body of water / covering your face when your picture is taken / trying to tell a joke but ending up laughing at the memory of it / seeing a friendly face at an event / people-watching at the airport / waiting until last minute to get out of bed  

PLAYLIST : creep, radiohead — what you want, two door cinema club — first day of my life, bright eyes — get home, bastille — disappear here, bad suns — bloom, the paper kites — ends of the earth, lord huron — eyes shut, years&years

[bergandrew-blog]

nora-rinne

Nostalgia was dangerous. Nora knew that. But on those nights when sleep is unable to find her, she indulged in it. She relived her most precious memories, she saw those green hills again, to which she would so desperately like to return. Her life here was good. Attending one of the best performing art schools and making a name for herself was nothing to complain over. And yet, Nora wondered if Andrew ever did the same. In the darkest of nights, did he also want to run? Did he also feel out of place?

His question brought Nora back to reality.“I was thinking it was more of a coffee house kind of day, but now that you mention it, sketching you doesn’t sound half bad either. So what do you say we do both?” A smile now found it’s way to her face, a determined gleam in her eye.

Coffee house. Coffee shop.Coffee place. Café. Any name one might attach to it, or any way someone would imply they were getting coffee and Andrew became instantly happy. You could paint it as excitement, but for numerous heartbeats he felt like the world was okay. A good place. He looked at Nora, nodded, and imagined and taste and the kick he would get out of it. Call him an addict, but he imagined that his brain released a fair amount of oxytocin when he saw a steaming cup of coffee, and that was alright with him.

[bergandrew-blog]

goldenglxw

As the other smiled, Roman beamed. A daisy, so simple and beautiful. Innocence, and purity in the form of a delicate thing. They were cheerfulness, and apparently they were contagious.

There was something about the other’s smile that seemed to resemble the daisies he now possessed. Pure and delicate. Yet there was irony in the flower that always peeks through cracks in the sidewalk to be deemed delicate.

“They suit you.”

Andrew’s body jerked, as if awake or out of a trance, and his usual expression took over. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he nodded once, which to himself meant ‘yeah, sure’ but to others it could be translated a number of ways. The dramatic change made him self-conscious, which urged him to say anything in order to appear calmer and more collected than he actually was.

“My name is Andrew.”

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

She watched as he tried to suppress his amusement — she noticed it, of course, after all, she was looking for signs that he was indeed enjoying her company as she did not want to bother him. Blair scanned him up and down, then at his earpieces and then at the auditorium. He seemed shy, and perhaps a little guarded, but that did not deter her from trying to know him even better. In fact, knowing that he found her even just a slight tinge entertaining made her want to befriend him even more. Although she made sure not to come off too enthusiastic, it was hard for her not to act like her usual bubbly self.

“The end-of-semester play?” She repeated, animated, “Are you going to be playing a big role? No, wait, that isn’t important. I can’t wait to see you perform!” Grinning, Blair decided on getting him to speak more about himself. She contemplated on what she should ask him about — but then it hit her. Why on earth would he be in Phantomhive if he wasn’t invested in his work? “So, what made you want to become an actor?“

The end of semester play was an ordeal; everyone was involved, every single person who was trained to become an actor or actress. It usually involved a spectacular amount of effort on Andrew’s side. Showing up for rehearsal, discussing alternatives to his lines, one-on-one rehearsal with people he had difficulty interacting on a day to day basis. Those were just few of the things he had to prepare himself for. The roles hadn’t been given out yet, but twice in a row he’d gotten a good amount of time on stage. He was optimistic.

“My mom is..” he stated, hesitantly adding: “..an actress.” A great one. He usually cited her as the reason behind him wanting to be an actor, which he wasn’t so sure about. He could end up helping on set or assisting directors for all he knew. But acting was more of a calling. Just this thing he knew how to do and did it well. If he could find it in himself to pursue it with more fervor, the chances of him become as great as his mother increased significantly. “What do you do?” An attempt to divert the subject matter from himself. Quite clearly, signified by the awkward cough he let out afterwards.

[bergandrew-blog]

choiflo

Florian smiled, dialling his charm up a notch. He had an audience now and everything to prove (mainly to himself), so a wrong move wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. At the very least he was right about having been acquainted with the man in front of him yet, so that was the first potential pitfall avoided.In the back of his head he could hear his sister Morgane laughing at him, “talking to people isn’t waging war, Flo”. He hadn’t quite been able to convince her that it was like a game of chess.

“Well, time to change that, then!” He stretched out his right hand for a shake and took the time to examine the other’s face. It was unnervingly hard to read, but then again, no challenges only meant that his mind would grow dull. “I’m Florian. Second year, music department. Nice to meet you…?” He arched an eyebrow in a silent question for a name.

Andrew felt like he was finalizing a car deal when he shook the person’s hand. It wasn’t so much the gesture. Florian’s tone reminded him of a salesman or a real estate agent. Confident, charismatic and in balance with his surroundings. Andrew could not convince himself to act accordingly, as anything else other than a timid customer that just wants to get this over with. “Andrew.” But he didn’t add a surname or his field of study.

Some people were turning away, seeing that there was no drama to be observed. A few pairs of eyes were still on them, the more hungry for Florian’s attention, Andrew guessed. It was a question that would probably never be answered by Florian himself in Andrew’s presence, but he genuinely wondered if he savored the unnecessary attention. Was it just a calamity of being a sociable, nice person or was it all an act?

[bergandrew-blog]

blaircarter

Blair tilted her head to the side, trying to stifle back a laughter from how she misread the situation. “Oh!” Exclaiming, she sheepishly ran her fingers through her hair — noticing how foolish she was to ask him if he was in fact lost. What were the chances of that even happening? She managed to bite her lip, trying her best not to scold herself, but what she did not manage to hold back was letting her shoulders drop and frowning, just a little.

“I’m sorry.” Eventually, Blair decided to apologise — she did not know why but she felt bad, but then again, she had no time for negative emotions. Although she found it slightly strange that he had not introduced himself to her, Blair counted it as shyness. Now, all she needed was to break the shell of his. “So, you’re an actor, right? That’s so interesting!” She clasped her hands in exuberance, “I’d love to see you perform someday..” Pausing, she glanced back up at him, as if waiting for him to fill the silence with his name.

Andrew suppressed a smile by pressing his lips into a tight line, but the amusement could still be seen by the way his widened just a little bit and his cheekbones blushed. Her movements and general joyfulness reminded him of a cheerleader you’d see in a movie. It was not a reason to assume she was faking it, but she seemed to him like a bit of a try-hard, which in his mind also translated to a feeling he came across very rarely, because of his attitude more than anything. She was making an effort. Perhaps she did so with everybody but Andrew didn’t care, he was already putting miniature pieces of attachment into his puzzle. Next time he would see her, even if she ignored him in the hall or while buying coffee, he’d still have the memory.

She guessed he was an actor, which was not particularly difficult. He carried no instruments or supplies, just himself, quite poorly as well. “Yeah, I am.” He didn’t have a particular comment in his mind about the fact that she mentioned wanting to see him perform so he just nodded. “I’m in the end-of-semester play.”