interstellar5555 | Punk is not dead

Entry tags:

Punk is not dead

Who: Xanxus, Sabo and YOU
What: Sabo insulted punk, so now they're haivng a little music battle
When: 3 Feb
Where: Club VorTeQ
Warnings: Xanxus warnings apply, more as added.

It's time. The infamous little punk club is filled to the brim with curious fans. Ever since that little twit-fit, the club has been really playing up the upcoming battle between Sabo and Xanxus. There are posters and special drinks, themed for each musician.

The stage is set up for the two, with everything they need. The bar is active and the club is hopping. While this isn't a legitimate contest like the Song Contest, there's something more on the line here. The pride of punk music.

[ooc: open prompts below or make up your own]

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The pale gent will look up as Xanxus slides in beside him, a smirk crossing his face. "Mmmm! a number of the bars have started stocking it since I came to Vista City and started prowling its nightlife," he says.

"Of your performances and the, hmmm, competition behind them? I'm impressed with both of them," he says, taking a sip from his glass. "I haven't been much into punk since I was in my teens, but the both of you made me remember why it drew me in: it's the energy and the fire in it. It's full of life at it's rawest and most primal."

Now, that is something. He would love that sort of pull with the bars. To be able to have the his favorites get stocked just because he was going around to the bar scene. But he's not as fancy as this man. He prefers whiskey and tequila to anything else. That can be found anywhere though something says that the stuff he normally drinks is a thousand times more delicious and fine than what he drinks now.

"That's what I was hoping for. Punk is about going against the status quo. It's about standing up and being yourself. I wish more people saw that." He reaches for his glass and looks the man over. "You look like a man that would appreciate the other stuff I did, back in the day."

He didn't even mean metal. He meant even older than that. "You're drinking that...so...classical?"

The gent gives him an approving smile. "And I think you achieved just that, at least for those with the eyes to see it," he says. "The rest can't seem to see past the aggressiveness: too scared to live, to experience that life at it's most primal that I mentioned.

"I'm always looking for new things to listen to: who do I have the honour of addressing and where might I find your earlier creations?" This doesn't seem like a polite question, but a genuine interest in what he has to share.

He glances to his glass, then chuckles gently, and says, "Close: classical-gothic, though I'm veering a bit more toward the latter these days."

"Classical-gothic." It seems perhaps they share a mutual friend in Tamara. Xanxus has been rather personally closer to the woman while they were recording an EP. There was a lot of tension between them, but he rather not suddenly bring her up. Instead he hums a little.

"I actually came to punk from Operatic Metal. I was the face of Dehumanizer before I lost my face." He lightly turns a bit towards the man, giving him a full view of the large burn scar on his face. "And before that, I was going to be singing in the Vista Metropolitan Opera. I had three semesters left."

He takes his first stiff drink of the night. "Sometimes, I miss it. Both the metal and the Opera. I have more a chance at metal here. Not much call for the other, sadly. I've been trying for a while to just do a purely classical contribution."

"Mmm, I started as a classical pianist and violinist, and since I've had a fondness for dark things since I was a youngster, it only made sens to merge the two when I decided to make music my life's work," he replies.

"Operatic metal? excellent choice: I've heard of Dehumanizer but never really got into listening to them much, but I'll have to rectify that, and soon," he says, taking a small journal from a pocket of his jeans and jotting in it.

"Well, if you'd ever care to collaborate with Court of Thorns - or with me, for that matter - I'd be more than delighted to have you join us: you're that good that I'd be delighted and honoured to work with you."

"Operatic metal. I fell in love with metal while I was studying Opera and fused the two with the band. I really miss it sometimes. Punk is punk, but metal is in my blood." He watches the man jot things down and hums for a moment.

"A collaboration with Crown? Well, I've enjoyed collaborating with Tamara. She's quite talented. If you're half as good as she is, I would be honored as well."

"It's not much of a stretch, since there's already a lot in common between classical music and metal music, and there's so many opera plots that wouldn't look too different from that of a metal concept album," the pale guy replies, really intrigued by all this.

"I hope that I am: I've been listening to her work since my own indie goth days, and... I admit, when I was offered to sign onto the band, my admiration for her artistry helped convince me to seal the offerm" and he says this with a genuine fondness. "She might have given me a little bit of a hard time when I first arrived, but it all worked out in the end, and I've matriculated in well."

Xanxus laughs a little at that. "That is true. Faust would make a great album. Or Der Freischütz" Of course he has to pick operas with deals with the devil as their theme. He's been around Luci too long. "Magic bullets that never miss a target with the last one that goes where the devil chooses." He makes a gun shape out of his finger and turns to 'fire it off' at one of the pretty ladies in the room before turning back to the man, grinning.

"She is quiet talented and it means you're quite the artist yourself in you earned a place in her band. I wouldn't mind hearing some of your own work. Perhaps some day, we can find a bar with an open mic night and relive our crazier days."

"Perfect choices! And if I remember correctly, there's a rock-jazz-blues-experimental-music adaptation of Der Freischutz. Why not adding metal to the mix, or remixing the story entirely?" he says, intrigued by the youngster's choices. Deals with the devil, and he's chosen earth-walking angels for his own narrative.

"As I matter of fact, I know of a tiny basement club that has an open mic night on Tuesdays and Fridays, alternating weeks. I used to play in the house band off and on back when I was still in the indie goth scene," he says. "I still go there once in a while, as my schedule allows."

"Really. I never knew." He grins a little. "Now I'll have to think about something else. I don't want to do what someone else has done." He looks over his drink at the older man.

"That sounds like I would like it a lot. You'll have to give me the directions." Mostly because if singing with Tamara was as fun as it was, he was certain that singing with this man would be just as much so.

"Mmmm! Just because someone else has made an adaptation of something, doesn't excluded your version: you'd bring your voice and your style to it, which alone would make it an original treatment," he says, offering encouragement.

"You would love it: it's a small place, but very much an artists' hangout; there's an art gallery on the walls, more or less a rotating permanent collection with frequent additions. There's poetry and story readings at times, to say nothing of how the owner, Crawley, is always looking for new musicians or for previous performers to return. I more or less got a start there: I'm sure he'd be more than glad to have you and Tamara perform."

He laughs at that. "That's true. Though still, I might do something else anyway. We'll just have to see, now won't we. I might even ask Tamara for a little help. She does have a great ear for music." That and he's a terrible flirt with her. So there is that too.

"It sounds lovely though. I'll definitely have to look into playing there. Or at least looking at the art. It's been forever since I've been to any sort of art gallery. It doesn't fit the look I've got going." And Xanxus is very very dedicated to his image. He won't do anything that might ruin it, including doing high brow classy things he might actually enjoy.

"And don't discount you. I want to hear you. I want to hear the songs of a man who wears the name of the angel of death."

"Perhaps something with all three of us, if she's open to the notion. I'd be game for a collaboration, if she was. And as for the art in the gallery, it's quite well-executed, the work of some local young folk with talent and skill and an eye for the darkly beautiful.

"I'll have to bring my best material to the table that night: they're letting me reissue some old albums, and so I've brought some of those songs into our sets," he says. With an outright fiendish if playful smirk and a bow, he says, "In that case, allow this man with the name of the angel of death be your guide as you enter and explore the underworld?"

It takes a lot of self control not to make a comment about a threesome. After all, they're just talking about music and not anything else. Still, he'd definitely consider it. It would be a lot of fun to do something dark and artistic. Something so different from his punk stuff.

"I'll look forward to hearing it then." He laughs at the bow and gives the man a nod in return. "So you're Virgil then. Taking me down to where I belong, if you want to believe the tabloids. But I'll accept your guidance."

He wouldn't be above a threesome of another variety: he's deeply fond of and attracted to the lady in question and he likes what he's seen of the young man before him.

"Hopefully I can lead you out safely then, without the scribblers coming up with more wild notions as to what we do in the dark, though I suppose they have a knack for spinning fantasies whole cloth out of the tiniest things."

"Who says I want safety? I might stray from your carefully laid path and drag you along for the ride. They call me a demon but I think devils and angels can have a lot of fun when they want to." He smiles at the man and takes a long drink of his whiskey. "Though you know what's really fun. Seeing just how crazy a story they can make up out of the smallest things." He does love messing with the press. "I'm certain there will be stories of our meeting here. Something about me trying to corrupt you." He laughs a little more.

He might chuckle a bit. "I must be getting overly cautious in my old age, or the antics of the fans have made me more wary," he says. "I probably should start looking at any press as good press, and tell that part of my mind to stop cringing at some of the more absurd claims."

"That's the Pride Credo, didn't you know. But you can be the role model that I'm not. Though honestly, if you can't get a good laugh out of some of it, I feel for you. Some of it's hilarious. But you shouldn't feel bad about your age. With years comes wisdom and great taste in alcohol." He wouldn't mind trying some of that. "Hopefully, the fairy won't be cruel to me."

He chuckles in his throat, gently. "Oh, we'll say that I'm older than I look: some trick of good genetics seems to have overcome my vices," he says, signalling to the barkeep for another drink and nodding toward his companion. "Hopefully she'll be as much of an inspiration to you as she's been to me."

And Xanxus is actually younger than he looks if you go by technicalities. So, they are definitely a pair. "And if not, I'll just return to chasing the dragon. That's never lead me wrong."

He'll cock an intrigued eyebrow at this, smirking a bit, as the barkeep fetches a clean glass, setting it on the bartop and filling it from a green bottle, then dropping a sugar cube into it and adding some spring water from a bottle. "Faeries and dragons. There's a song or a poem in that or both, I'll wager," he says, pushing the drink closer to Xanxus.

He watches the ritual. It's so different from whiskey. Far more art to it than just pouring a glass of his chosen poison. He takes the glass once it's pushed towards him and nodded. "It does indeed. Fairies that twist the mind and show truths hidden and dragons that horde away treasures that once were lost." He takes a drink and gets hit with that licorice flavor. "We've encountered both, I think. But one more prevalent than the other."

Why choose this man to speak to about things he's starting to question? Perhaps because this man was older and seemed a little wiser. He might offer an insight he hasn't had before, simply from experience.

"Perhaps revealing the location of the treasures that the dragons have hidden, and perhaps the dragons help to guard some of the most precious of the secrets which the faeries have revealed?" he muses. Then as the younger man takes a drink from his glass. "Like what you taste? It can be a bit strong, even overwhelming at the first sip.

"I had a feeling you've had your share of dragons, just as I've met my share of faeries in my time and through my creations..."

He hums at that. He wonders what secrets they are holding from them. He knows what his memories are and he knows they are changing. He is changing. Others too. How much have the dragons taken and horded away from them?

"It's not my whiskey, that's for certain, but I don't think I hate it." He still likes his chosen drink better.

"Hmmm! Admittedly, it's not for everyone, but I'm glad the experience was at least a welcome one," he says with a bow.

(OOC: Shall we leave them there? Bit of an old thread...)

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