This video blog is owned by user 'channy777', hosted on a popular sharing forum ~~~ The first video posted is titled 'Modern Waste' cover by Chanel Lagarde! It has a moderate amount of views and likes, comments mostly consisting of things like 'lmao!' 'nailed it' and 'wait til the end'. ~~~ It begins with an extreme close-up of a violently bright green eye, the color of Spring. It’s looking slightly off to the side of the lens, muffled noises and wiggling of the camera indicate that the girl is fiddling with it’s mounting. Leaning back slowly, ready to catch it if it tumbles, she gets a sharp smirk when it doesn’t, finally taking her position, seated on a derelict mining crate in a filthy, graffiti laden brick alley. With her in center view, you can get a good look at her scrappy self in entirety. She can’t be a biscuit past nineteen, her features show a clear mix of an Asiatic and Caucasian heritage. Almond verdant eyes, light freckling along her cheek and collar. Tucked under a frayed woolen cap is her bright and long straw blonde hair that curls at the ends, vibrant orange streaks dyed into her bangs. Her build is very slim and willowy, noticeable even underneath the huge worn-in USCM coat that you could fit three of her in. A patch on the breast of the jacket reads ‘Lt. Lagarde’, beginning to peel off at the corners. It's worn over a tattered sleeveless band t-shirt, the graphics long faded out. The girl smiles so widely that her cheeks force her eyes shut, showing off a small gap between her two front teeth. Raising her hand to wave at the camera, the jacket’s massive sleeves slide down to her elbow, letting you see that her arm is covered in a black and white striped stocking, holes cut out for her slender fingers to slip through. They match the pair on her legs, worn underneath a pair of beige daisy dukes. “Bo’jour y’all out there!” Her accent is an even mix of terran French and a backwater colony drawl, a pitch, tone, and inflection so chipper that it could brighten up a Bukowski novel. “Welcome ta’ tha’ online debut of Chanel Lagarde!” She declares proudly with a raised finger, before reaching off camera for something. Bringing into view what could charitably be called a “guitar”, it’s a horrid amalgamation of plywood, duct-tape, twine, all held together with a shoestring and a wish. The chords are the only part that look (barely) like something from an actual instrument. On the body of the ad-hoc thing is an exposed speaker, fastened to the device with mismatched screws, it’s wires running to a small control panel, clearly ripped from an amp. “Ta’day I’ll be doin’ a cover a’ “Modern Waste”, ‘least, I’ll try ta’.” She says with a smiling shrug. She flicks the 'On' switch of her Frankenstein’s Gibson, bringing it to horrifying life with a screech of feedback, making her flinch with a wince. Turning the volume very far down very quickly, she begins to adjust the settings and tuning of the thing. She resumes talking, mostly to fill the time while she gets it ready (which really she should’ve already done). “Just got this camera, s’my first time doin’ an online thing, been playin’ on tha’ streets for almost, uh-” She stops her work for a moment to try and remember. “Round three years, I’m pre’sure…” Her tone illustrates she’s not at all sure. With a testing strum and hum, her face lights up. She finishes her preparations by rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, and brushing her orange bangs behind her ear. Tapping her foot against the concrete to catch a beat, she bobs her head along, getting in sync with what she intends to play. “Un-deux-trois-” After a quiet countdown, she kicks into the song with an exuberant, staticky strum, sprinkling French into the lyrics here and there, kicking and tapping on a nearby oil barrel and trashcan for something resembling a bass drum and symbols, respectively. Her energy and “stage” personality almost makes up for her lack of even bare-minimum equipment, bouncing along and belting out the words in full force, all sung through tightly shut eyes and an irrepressible wide open smile. She lets the final strum fade out at it’s own pace, head lifted and eyes shut while it grows quiet. After a silent moment, she comes back to reality, looking at the camera with a cheeky pride of accomplishment. Her voice is ragged and hoarse from singing so loudly, leaving her with a cracky whisper. “Right, thanks fer listenin’, lemme know what y’all think!” Her voice breaks at ‘think’, needing to stop and clear her throat. “I dunno when I can do ‘nother, but, ‘til then, au revoir-” She suddenly turns to her left, eyes widening and shoulders hiking as her farewell is cut off by a man’s angered, approaching voice and hurried footfalls. “I told you to BEAT IT YOU BRAT!” Making a scurried grab for the camera, she gets up and bolts down the alley, a shaky cam view of the ground for around thirty seconds before the video ends.
The following video, titled Update + 'Float On' Cover by Chanel Legarde has nearly non-existent amount of likes or views, and zero comments. A tag indicates that this was uploaded from mobile. ~~~ It begins with a full view of Chanel's face, her green eyes focused just below the lens while she tries to figure out how to get the forward camera to record. Visibly realizing that she solved the puzzle, her face lights up in an all-too-familiar fashion. Outstretching the phone from herself, she gives the viewer a twinkling finger wave and a wide grin. She's backed by an early morning sunlight passing through her long platinum locks. It encompasses her in a calm, radiant glow, almost angelic looking. "B'jour y'all.~" She’s looking very different from her previous video, the only similarity being her ratty clothing. There’s no longer dirt on her face, her hair is clean, light and free-flowing, shifting in the soft breeze. Letting her hand back down and smile soften, she turns to her right, looking out over the scenery. "I made it." She says to the wind, delicate and reflective. After a moment of silence, she looks back to the viewer. "I found it, home, finally… See?" With a light rustling, she turns the camera to show an unobstructed view of her surroundings. She's sitting above a tropical canopy, the softly swaying sea of leaves a crimson red. Ancient works of masonry, overtaken by nature, litter the cloudy horizon. The microphone tunes into the various distant cries and calls of the alien fauna, a collective hymn heralding in the new day. After a few seconds of appreciation, she comes back into view, smiling wider. “I’ve been lookin’ for Dieu knows how long…” There’s the sound of approaching footsteps, she stops, turning and watching someone walking by along the bridge, waiting for them to be out of earshot to continue. “Took me almost 4 years… But. She’s here. Couldn’t believe her when I seen her…” She tilts the camera back, raising an arm as high above her head as she can. “I thought she was scrawny an’ lean, at least she used to be, when I seen that old video… But, she’s real-real big, crazy big, big as a…” At a lost for a comparison, getting stuck in a downcast smile, she drops the thought, continuing with her little update. “Pre’sure she wanted to squish my head like a melon when we met, really angry for what I was sayin’. And she def’nitely could, has a real cool cyberarm.” Despite the dark thought, she sighs a laugh, flexing a lanky arm, before realizing no one knows who she’s talking about. “Oh, duh, it’s Blaire, err- It’s Blaze now, uh, Winchester…” Gets a bit tangled in the midway corrections, letting out a scrunchy faced snerkt. “Went lookin’ for her, ‘cause she saved my life, a real long time ago… Gave me a heart when I was sick in a bad way, after her sis-” Chanel crooks a small finger under her nose, thinking for a beat or three. “Uhh… That’s a bit of a sore spot for her, dunno if she wants me sharin’ that… But.” Another pause, she’s getting caught up in her web of thoughts. “My mama told me to always repay a blessin’, no matter how long it takes, no matter how big or small... So, I did. I brought her somethin’ precious to her, thanked her face to face, let her know what she did mattered… And you know what she did?” She hikes her shoulders, equal parts embarrassment and excitement. “Gave me a place to stay, ‘least, for right now… And just, and-” Lifting her cap to brush some bangs from her face, it gives her a second to compose her gushing. “Pre’much everythin’ I’ve been needin’ since I fell down hard… I’ve been sleepin’ good, makin’ friends, eatin’ good, givin’ me some money, real money… Gave me somethin’ to look forward to. I’m so... Lucky, or somethin’, I dunno… I’m babblin’ ain’t I, huehe… I uhh- Oh, the other bit…” She says with a little shrug, smiling in a way of ‘doesn’t matter why’. She positions the camera on the stone wall she’s sitting on, putting her in center view. One leg is craned up onto her ledge, the other dangling free off the ledge. She wiggles and nestles into her seat, positioning herself to play. “So… I’m doin’ a cover’a ‘Float On’ today.” There’s an audible smile to her words. Unslinging that ragged guitar off her back, it’s now covered entirely in a random assortment of stickers, ranging from Floran skulls with “Plant ‘em in the dirt!” emblazoned on their foreheads, to chibi winking Hyotl popstars, to adverts for the popular Abercrombie and Glitch clothing chain, and many more. "This one's for all y’all who..." A pause, she gives each string a quiet testing pluck, before strumming once. She leaves the speaker off, playing the instrument acoustically. "Just, hang in there. It gets better. That’s my promise to you..." This song is different, very different. In contrast to her previous boisterous, full voiced and energetic performance, she's very calm and relaxed, eyes hooded and averted, only occasionally coming back to the camera while she strums at her instrument softly, an embarrassed smile creasing her face when she looks into the lense. Her Cajun 'twang' makes her voice like a bayou song bird's, gentle and loving, quiet, with peaceful peaks and dives. “We’ll all float on, alright~” Her face grows melancholic while she plays, a twinkle to her eye, the emotional nature of the song getting to her. But, she never loses that smile, as bright as the climbing star behind her, as tender as the clouds, and as natural as the creeping vines climbing those ancient towers. As the song drifts to a close, she keeps her gaze down towards the ground, the curtain of hair obscuring a big smile and loose tear rolling down her cheek. “Sorry, heh, hmm…” With a sniff and a brush across her cheek with her striped sleeve, she looks back up into the camera, putting her trademark smile back on in full. “Hope you liked this, lemme know what’cha all thought… Chanel Lagarde, signin’ out, ‘least for now.” She flashes a peace sign and kissy winky face for the camera, before reaching forward and tapping the screen, ending the recording.
