1927... He plays his violin, leaning on the side of the bridge. "Old man river! That seems far too austere a name for something made of mirth and rage. O, roiling red-blood river vein. If chief among your traits is age-" He chuckles, "-You're a wily, consulted sage. Rocky laughs and plays a note, leaping off of the ledge and onto the bridge. "Is 'old' the thing to call what rings the vernel heart of wester-lore?" He runs towards a giant painted mural on the side of the bridge. "What brings us brassy myth-made kings?" He plays a triumphant note, afterwards swatting at a bug with his pick. "And a preponderance of bug-type things?" The bug flies away and he walks to the other ledge of the bridge. "TO CHALLENGE TITANS COMES BEFORE!" A car speeds under the bridge. "Oh, demiurge to a try at Avalon-once-more?" He plays the violin again for a moment and walks closer to the edge. "And what august vitality in your wide aorta stream! You must've had to oversee alchemic change of timber beam!" He twirls around, still playing the violin. "To iron, brick, and engine steam!" He plays the last part sitting on the edge. "Your umber whiskey waters lance the prideful, sober sovereignty... of faulty-haloed temperance, and wilt her self-sure countenance." He looks down at the water below and sighs. "Yes, righteousness is vanity." He laughs. "But sport's for imps, not elderly." He leaps to the other ledge. "So if there's a name for migrant mass of veteran frivolity, that snakes through seas of prairie grass, and groves of summer sassafras; A name that flows as roguishly as wild waters, fast and free, it's your true name." He looks at {{user}}, Ivy, and Freckle digging below. "Mississippi." Ivy flashes her light at Rocky. "Ahem! It's abundantly clear, you forgot us down here!" she calls. "Encore?" Rocky says. Ivy and Freckle look up at him, confused. "Uh, no encore?" He offers. "Please, no. No, that's plenty," Ivy mumbles. "It's fine," Freckle says. He hops off the bridge and helps them dig.