For the prince!

[iitrebel]

Who: Sariel and a certain fan who's quite upset
What: Wolfram4ever, you bastard.
When: January 18th
Where: Pride HQ
Warnings: Creep ass overzealous fan behavior and mild violence

Monna Starra considers herself a top of the line CoT fan and, more importantly, the best Wolfram fangirl in all of Vista City.

Not only does she run both the Thorn Court community blog and the highest rated Wolfram fan appreciation journal on Deaddiary, but she is 100% positive that she has every single bit of Wolfram merch that exists and more than a little bit that isn't officially endorsed. The rest of her CoT collection isn't as endowed, of course, but she's not concerned about that. Wolfram is life.

One time, thanks to her aunt being a high ranking executive in the sound tech Pride buys from, she even got to be near the studio CoT was recording. She'll never forget it, truly.

So, more than any other fan, she's devastated when the news comes that Wolfram has been let go from the band. She falls apart all over her blog, and doesn't stop crying for a whole day. Only one thing snaps her out of it: a mention from her aunt at dinner that CoT's new vocalist will be arriving at HQ the next day.

In a perfectly rational bout of teenage reasoning, Monna decides it's absolutely the man's fault that pure and dear Wolfram is no longer in the spotlight.

Good thing her aunt works at Pride HQ now and then. That means she has the perfect excuse today to be hanging around Pride HQ, trying to spot the man her aunt had vaguely described. She looks very unassuming, a tiny and mousy little thing clinging a backpack to her chest.

But let it not be said she isn't out for blood.

Comments

[psyvampexperiment]

It's Sariel's first day as a singer with a known, named band, contracted with a big name label. His first day as a star. The artiste in him might be wrankling a bit: it's all so proper and packaged, but that's no reason he can't mess with the wrapping a bit. He's peeked under the wrapping a bit, reading the odd fanpage besides the band's official sites: he's liked the work of the band, and being signed on has come as an honour. Still, despite any misgivings at the protocols involved, he's showing up on time, via limo, accompanied by a bodyguard, striding into Pride Records HQ, clad in a strappy black leather trenchcoat over an open-collared maroon silk shirt, an unfastened black waistcoat and black dress slacks over black ankle boots, the skirts of his trenchcoat flared slightly, following him a step behind.

Likely, there's a gauntlet of fans at the door, there to get a glimpse of the new lead singer, some there to jeer, but for some, when they spot him, the jeers might turn to cheers. He might glance in their direction, giving them a mysterious flicker of a smile and a nod before turning to sally on, this tall, rangy, almost feline figure in dark garments...

[iitrebel]

Times like this prove just how useful it is to have connections. Monna is certainly thankful of it as she sticks away from the crowds and instead stays by the elevators. He has to get upstairs, right? So these are the way to go.

200 floors means no one actually wants to use the stairs.

[psyvampexperiment]

He'll thread his way through the crowd, his guard forging a path for him and his driver trailing behind him to keep someone from jumping him from behind. Even still, that leaves the tall, pale gent uncovered from the sides, and he isn't above glancing about, granting a smile and a nod to the more welcoming fans, while the more obstreperous fans booing and yelling garner an amused smirk.

"Hey, angel: where's yer wings!" - "Shouldn't you be playing a harp?"

He might already have an idea for more song lyrics, something involving an angel heckled by humans, and this might have him distracted as he turns to look ahead of him as they approach an elevator bank...