scalpedsociety: (thoughtful)
Aramat Drawdes|Tamara Seward ([personal profile] scalpedsociety) wrote in [community profile] interstellar55552016-03-21 02:44 am

come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones

Who: Aramat and YOU! (Certain prompts are locked for certain people though.)
What: A month in the life of the pianist.
When: Throughout March
Where: Various Places Around Vista City and Pride HQ
Warnings: Possible sex, mentions of triggering things and whatever else. Will warn in advance. Prompts are in the comments.

Throughout March, Aramat is rather busy with various things, recording for Crown of Thorns, performing in clubs, searching for apartments to spend some quiet time in, and perhaps other errands. Of course there's always time for fun as well...
psyvampexperiment: (satisfied)

[personal profile] psyvampexperiment 2016-03-29 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
He might even join in the whistling, his pale face a mask of wrapt calm around his pursed lips, his eyelids slack, as if he's turned inward for the moment. Through the instrumental lead-in, he's a pillar of calm, as if he might for the moment have transformed into an alabaster statue of a wingless angel.

Then he lifts his head and opens his eye, his glass eye impassive, but his good eye alive and bright with an inner fire as calm and poised as a gas flame. Dropping his voice into his baritonal chest register, he vaults into the first verse:

"Wer zu Lebzeit gut auf Erden
wird nach dem Tod ein Engel werden
den Blick gen Himmel fragst du dann
warum man sie nicht sehen kann

(Who in their lifetime is good on Earth
will become an angel after death
you look to the sky and ask
why can't you see them)
psyvampexperiment: (Hand through hair)

[personal profile] psyvampexperiment 2016-04-03 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
He replies with the last line of the chorus, which he might deliver with an almost weary shake of his head, his good eye glinting with something else:

Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein

(God knows I don't want to be an angel)


The crowd is joining in the whistling on the bridge to the next verse, more than a few grooving with the beat, but a few might have some puzzled looks at their fallen angel's body language. Especially on the second verse, as his shoulders square a bit, almost gathering himself a bit:

Sie leben hinterm Sonnenschein
getrennt von uns unendlich weit
sie müssen sich an Sterne krallen (ganz fest)
damit sie nicht vom Himmel fallen

(They live behind the sunshine
separated from us, infinitely far
they must cling to the stars (very tightly)
so they don't fall from the sky)
psyvampexperiment: (Intent)

[personal profile] psyvampexperiment 2016-04-08 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
He'll look her in the face, his head lowered a bit, a fire kindling in his good eye, yet there's still a tiredness there, almost a pleading but not one borne of despair but rather of desire, as he replies with the last line of the chorus, the fire starting to kindle brighter at each repeat of the line.

Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein
Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein
Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein

(God knows I don't want to be an angel
God knows I don't want to be an angel
God knows I don't want to be an angel)