interstellar5555 | "Senza tentazioni, senza onore."

[ It might be different from most of his songs, but that's fine. It'll only make it stand out more. And this is Mei. Squalo will happily let him have a song; it's his evening and he decides who will get it. ]

[ He smirks and steps to the side to retrieve his regular cello, as he imagines it'll sound better here than the electric one. ]

Anytime.

[ The melody starts out unusually soft from under his fingers, curling around that piano-like sound of the keyboard. ]

[And, taking the mic with one hand while the other continued the gentle melody, he lowered his head and started to croon:]

Seal my heart and break my pride
I've nowhere to run and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done, and do my time.

[His voice was low and husky, more akin to a smokey-toned folk singer than the indie-rock band that Cosmic Indulgence claimed to be. An air of melancholy and regret rang in those words, but the bittersweet notes were overlaid with a subtle ring of determination overlaid upon them.

Branching off of the refrain, he continued.]

A young man stands at the front of the parade
His brothers and sisters, their retainers a palisade
All came together for the first time in years
Over news that had brought the country to tears.

[ He may not be a vocalist, but his voice is lovely. The style fits him, though for a moment Squalo has to wonder if this is some kind of tribute to... that disbanded folk group or something. Maybe that was the one where his possibly-brother was at? The words make even more sense in that case. ]

[ He listens, and he plays, now putting a little more energy behind his strokes. A hint of strife, of a strong emotion, yet still gentle, calm, even. ]

[Squalo's instinct was correct-- although, now Koumei had more recollection of details, including clarification on that relationship.]

We were kicked from our homes before we were sixteen,
A blood soaked land where our ancestor's had been
With blades in our hands and fire in our hearts
We couldn't make peace; our father, from his life departs.
So we gathered ourselves, our minds, our hands--
For we knew the truth of where our new king stands.

[His brother. His king. A cold acceptance and certainty of this truth alone firmed his spine, set his hands a dance alongside the gentle calm of Squalo's playing. Encouraged now, he broke into the refrain once more.]

Seal my heart and break my pride,
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done, and do my time.

Edited 2016-02-25 23:49 (UTC)

[ ~~That's rough buddy.~~ That sounds tough, even if it's just a song. ...probably just a song. It almost reminds him of something. Strife, having nothing, trying to make a name and a legacy -- ]

[ And a lord who's worth all of it ten times over. ]

[ Squalo will help him with the chorus, though his voice's unusually quiet, almost monotone - a gravely foundation for Koumei's, careful not to drown it out and making it stand out more instead. ]

Seal my heart and break my pride,
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done, and do my time.

[It was rough-- and he was piecing together memories that shouldn't be his, but simultaneously felt more right than anything this glitzy, rockstar wonderland could offer.

Picking up the tempo, the melody grew more harsh and agitated as if it were a storm blowing in from over the sea.]

Except that's now how the story played
One of the sons, his brothers betrayed
Vengeance and rage left his heart full of hate--
And it was over this that he cursed his very fate
Now there is no country and there is no king
And it's this message alone for which I will sing:

There will come a time when we meet again
And at that time you'll learn of true pain
For desperation and loneliness are a part of the deal;
It's the only way we know that our lives are real.

[ He picks up the increase in energy with the melody he plays, like waves in the ocean gradually growing higher, filling in the cracks that were held together with silence before. ]

[ That's... fucking deep, he thinks. Wow, Mei just might have some talent for words as well. As to be expected of an alleged leader, he supposes. Still, he doesn't have to like the message even if he appreciates the music. Loneliness and desperation; no. He's had enough. Never again. Not again... ]

[Three men who could have changed the very course of the world were dead long before their time. Countless others had spilled their blood over the ages, as each generation fought for an ideal that they couldn't attain. The flow of fate wasn't in their favor-- except for this one time.

And it was all ruined, because someone couldn't look beyond his own person.

A young man with burn scars upon his face and entire body. A woman who was as lovely as she was terrifying. An Empire brought to pieces because of vengence and greed that ultimately led to civil war.

He didn't want this pain, but it was as much a part of his blood as the agonized souls of the soliers who had given their lives upon those God forsaken plains.

Fingers whipped across the keys in an agitated crescendo, slamming into the deeper chords and picking out the oddly simplistic melody.

--Then, as suddenly as it started, the chorus broke. The world seemed to hold it's breath for a heart beat before, note by note, the melody gently stepped back into play.]

Yes, my brother, yes it is me
I know what must be done, 'cause I know what I've seen.
I stepped out and stood before the crowd,
I said: "This child is lost, and he will never be found."

[ Haha, speaking of young men with burn scars... ]

[ That moment of silence is a saving grace, really, as it gives Squalo enough time to grab a new bow. He suspected this kind of thing might happen more now, but he still feels a second of frustration when it breaks during that final rise of music and volume. That goddamn fake hand. ]

[ He picks the new bow and stealthily slips its end through the spiky bracelet he's wearing, pretty much securing the tip over a narrow slip of his forearm not covered by the prosthetic. He might not be able to feel how he's holding it, but he can feel the end pressing into his arm, more so the harder he pushes the bow against the strings. This is how he's been managing to play again. ]

[ And just in time, he starts off gently and quietly again, barely a musical whisper, letting Koumei's voice carry the story. ]

[But the story had ended....for now. Koumei didn't care to sing about war, about his own death. It was better to end like this, with the audience hanging onto his words and their imaginations going wild as they sought to write their own conclusions to the tail.

Meanwhile his fingers trailed on, eyes closed as he thought of a man with broad shoulders and a goatee, a man with a passion and charisma that surpassed his very bounds as a person.

His brother. His king.

How he missed that man.

Slowly ending the melody with a diminuendo into silence, Koumei drew the song to a close and listened in silence while the audience applauded. His mind was adrift with his own affairs...but that didn't mean he was oblivious to everything happening around him.

He and Squalo would need to talk later-- clearly things were coming to a head for the both of them, and they needed to get their details straight.]

[ Squalo will egg on the audience and yell some compliments for Mei and his song into the microphone for the hell of it, or maybe as a way to unwind a little. He doesn't like feelings, especially these... things that he's starting to suspect more and more are some kind of memories. Another life, perhaps. Not like it needs to make sense with everything that's been happening. ]

[ He'll do a couple more songs and announce a break before the second part of the night. He'll probably make beeline to the bar. Or, quite possibly, the restroom. His mind's a mess and alcohol alone might not be enough to deal with it. ]

[His own mind was a mess of emotions that he didn't fully understand, but ignoring them for the sake of the show had become habit at this point. No one needed to know of his problems, especially when he was on stage...but it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore those dreams that could be more than just hints at a previous lifetime any longer.

Koumei drops into the bathroom as well, intent on splashing some cold water into his face and trying not to see the ghosts that lingered behind his reflection in the mirror.]

[ Well. He just might come across the unsavory sight of Squalo finishing a line off the edge of the sink. He might brush his nose clean with the back of his hand and straighten up pretty damn fast, but it's probably obvious anyway. ]

You ever fucking heard of knocking?!

[The annoyed shout barely earns little more than a blink of surprise. Though he was fairly straight edge, he wasn't one to judge others for their vices. Not now-- not this far in the game.

Instead, he'll just give Squalo a quiet, unassuming look.]

We've seen each other naked; I think that means we're far past the point of knocking.

Also, the door wasn't locked-- and there is no sign that says it's private.

[ He scowls back at him, tucking whatever money bill he was using into his pocket. Mei's right, of course. This isn't his private fucking quarters or anything. And it's not that he's secretive, either. Trash can think whatever they want of him -- ]

[ He might be a little worried that this particular person might think of him less now, though. The corner of his mouth still twitches in annoyance. ]

Right. Whatever. Go ahead, I'm done anyway.

[ He steps away from the sink, seemingly headed for the door. ]

Wait, Squalo--

[Koumei reached out to snatch hold of the other man's hand, and moved closer until their faces were only a breath apart.]

Why the rush?

[ He looks a little taken aback, but doesn't move away or try to pull free, just sort of stares at Koumei with a bit of confusion. ]

[ Then he groans. ]

Don't tell me you came here for a heart-to-heart instead of a piss. Come on.

Actually, I came in to clean up for a minute, but since we're here...

[He reached down for Squalo's other hand-- the one with the prosthetic.]

This is new. Nicely crafted, too-- I almost didn't notice, if not for you shredding your bows so much.

[ He has to fight the urge to pull it back. But it's fine, it's fine, this is Mei. It's fine if he of all people knows. Still -- ]

How did you know?

[ After all, a bit of awkwardness in playing might've as well been caused by an injury. He did probably tell him he was supposed to have a metal arm before, but... ]

[His memory was quite good, and he remembered that conversation about Squalo's relative dexterity and how his hand probably shouldn't be there. Humming slightly, he leaned forward to press a kiss against the firm, smooth construction of the piece.]

Your dexterity, and you've been using your off-hand more. It pays to be observant, you know.

[ Oh. That's fucking smooth. One of the most Touching things for Squalo is when people ~accept~ his stump and his mecha arm, and this is about as close to it as it gets. He's gonna doki a little, then keep frowning. ]

I could've gotten injured, you know.

[Frown all you want-- it was your choice to fall in with a man who was really good at observing his surroundings.]

We both know you're too tough for that.

[ Damn it. He's supposed to be really good at that too, but apparently it hasn't returned to him yet. ]

I'm not invulnerable. [ Pause, sigh. ] But you're right. I got it back.

[ He lifts his arm a bit more and pulls the sleeve back, just to show him the hard, smooth material and metal plates forming his wrist and extending over his forearm, then tugs it back down to hide it again. ]

[He nodded gravely, undertanding the seriousness of what had happened here.]

Has anyone else realized?

[Like Management. Like Santiago. Mental strength was his primary skill, and he was the sort of individual who liked to know what was happening on the overall playing field as best as he could manage.]

Not impossible. I've only showed it to Genos, Tamara and Lucifer, though.

[ More people might have noticed him having trouble playing last month, but with any luck, they weren't as sharp as Koumei, not to mention nobody else had as much context as him. ]

At least I managed to keep it a secret from our manager. Sleeves and gloves help.

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timeskip?

Timeskip!

cw: substance abuse i guess

oh rofl~

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Don't mind the hair...

no worries

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