interstellar5555 | ☆TRACK I: NOTHING LEFT OF YOU

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☆TRACK I: NOTHING LEFT OF YOU

Who: Every single one of you.
What: Interstellar's first log, and an awards ceremony for jerks you don't know!
When: October 2nd.
Where: A fancy ballroom in neutral territory.
Warnings: Could be anything.

“Oh, it's been getting so hard,
Living with the things you do to me;
My dreams are getting so strange,
I'd like to tell you everything I see.

I see a man at the back as a matter of fact,
His eyes are as red as the sun.
And the girl in the corner lets no one ignore her,
‘Cause she thinks she's the passionate one.”

☆NOTHING LEFT OF YOU

It’s the seasonal Vista Music Industry Award Gala, and attendance is mandatory. You and your band have been touring non-stop for the last two months, hitting locations all over Americana, performing and doing press appearances. This event is set less than three days after your return home, but it’s been made clear that further rest will have to wait.

Though Halloween technically isn’t until the end of the month, the gathering has a formal masquerade theme - masquerade that is, not costume. Dressing up as a mummy or a clown isn’t going to cut it. Themed formal wear is expected, and your image consultants have been pestering you about your choices for the last 48 hours. Whether or not you listen to them, how you dress feels incredibly important. At least if you let the consultants fuss over you, you can be sure it’ll be something press friendly.

Various awards are being given out, but none of them are for you. The media in attendance are starting to bubble with enthusiasm for the ‘rising stars’ of the industry, however, so this could be a moment to shine. Labels besides Pride and Virgo are also in attendance, but who cares about those guys? They seem to be a mere footnote in comparison to the buzz around the heavy hitters.

There’s food, alcohol, dancing, stage performances by notable musicians of both Pride and Virgo, and then the formal awards ceremony in the evening. Yes, you are expected to sit through them. Do try to look like you’re interested, the media is watching.

☆PRIDE RECORDS

Lesedi Santiago doesn’t always make a big deal about introductions - or at least, that’s the impression you get when she just kind of shows up in your group limousine unannounced on your way over to the party. Deep into pre-drinking a bottle of gin, she doesn’t talk with you so much as talk at you, regaling your band with weird stories about the industry while completely ignoring the fact that her presence is more intimidating than comforting. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but at least she’s a good story teller - her speech doesn’t seem to be at all affected by the quantity of booze she’s already consumed, which is kind of bizarre if you think about it too deeply. You’re not inclined to.

You’ve all met her before, here and there, in a series of bombastic encounters. Her interest in pontificating at you and the other new label inductees seems to fade immediately upon entering the ballroom, as she quickly becomes distracted with more high profile guests. Her attention fixates on Edward Blanch from time to time, but she declines to address him specifically. If you want to get some of her one on one attention, now could be your chance - just make sure you go in ready. Handling Miss Santiago can be a bit of an...experience.

Veteran Pride members are in attendance as well, but most of them are not very good company. Their reactions vary from ‘frat members greeting a new pledge’ to ‘disinterested shoulder pats’, and ultimately it will seem your attention is better received by the other newbies. Maybe even the Virgo Entertainment stiffs, at that.

Because, of course, that crew is here as well. Lesedi suggested you “show them who’s boss,” but you’re not necessarily sure what that’s supposed to mean.

☆VIRGO ENTERTAINMENT

Tonight's event is one of considerable speculation: it marks Edward Blanche's first public appearance after a considerable period of isolation. He's a private man, a mystery and an enigma to the public, and that just seems to make him all the more intoxicating. The Managers and security staff are out in full force, and if you know what's good for you, you'll be dressed to the nines. Your image consultant will be almost desperate to do the work for you, like they're afraid of what might happen to their careers if you embarass the label on their watch.

Personal style is important, but everything in your gut tells you that your nose has got to be clean this time, or trouble is sure to follow. For many of you, this will be the first time you'll ever have seen your CEO in person, and as such, the first time he'll encounter you one on one. If you're going to brown nose, now's the time - but make sure you choose your words carefully, and don't waste his time. Blanche has little patience for it.

There are veteran musicians of the Virgo label in attendance, ones with dozens of awards to their names, but they seem to have little interest in speaking with you. Some are politely avoidant while others and just rudely dismissive, but none of them really give an answer for why they just aren't interested. It's not totally surprising - Virgo's interior politics are harsh.

Other notable guests include Lesedi Santiago and the rest of the Pride Records entourage. Though you may have acquaintances, or even friends, who have been snatched up by the other side, it's even more likely that you have enemies. Everything about your Virgo upbringing makes you feel like you should hold a certain contempt for their ilk - people in this label think of them as classless at best and crass maniacs at worst.

Did you hear about that disgusting stunt one of their front runners pulled on stage last week? Revolting.

☆THE TWIST

Some of you may remember strange events from the past few weeks. Misplaced objects, malfunctioning technology, nostalgic phantom music - it feels a lot like the last portion of your tour was haunted. Now that you're back home, all of that seems to be flaring up again. You can practically feel the otherworldly presences passing through the room, even if nobody besides your tour group seems to notice. Even though they aren't knocking glasses off tables and flickering lights like last time, their presence is somehow even more apparent.

Your programming makes one thing clear: don't make a public fuss about this. Ignore it, everything's fine. The second part only goes so far. Especially when, at some point or another, you'll be shaken by the feeling that one of these ghosts has walked straight through you. For that moment, you feel like a totally different person. At this point, one of four memory regain effects will occur:

► REMEMBER LOVE: You remember a scene, image, or concept related to one of the greatest loves of your past life. Can be either romantic, platonic, or familial. It must be about a person and not a place or activity, though.

► REMEMBER DUTY: You remember a scene, image, or concept related to something you held a great sense of duty or loyalty to in your past life. It could be a person, a cause, a country, or anything in between.

► REMEMBER PASSION: You remember a scene, image, or concept related to something you were passionate about to the point of anger or determination in your past life. Not enjoyment of, but something that drove you, or one of the things most likely to make you throw a punch.

► REMEMBER HOPE: You remember a scene, image, or concept related to something you dreamed about making come true, or an important hope you had for the future in your past life. This covers any kind of positive goal or ambition for you or the world around you.

The feeling will quickly fade, leaving you as the person you've been made into once again. Only now you have something new: the first fragment of a life you can't remember having lived. The CEOs and managers will react to this eventually, and you're probably going to get sent home early. This, however, will be covered with a top level further into the log.

“I'm reaching out for something,
Touching nothing's all I ever do.
Oh, I softly call you over;
When you appear there's nothing left of you.”

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[Tiger just makes like he's going to ignore Greg completely at first, but then after a small delay, he chooses to speak after all.]

I didn't want to be in there anymore.

[Greg bites at his lip, before leaning against the wall, on the opposite side of the stairwell.]

Yeah... me either. It's a pretty lousy party, isn't it?

[The initial wave of anger passing, the teen seems to droop in the face of that terrible truth. He's quiet for a moment, but eventually mumbles:]

It's a lousy everything.

[Up to this point, Greg's been operating on a fairly simple assumption: that everyone who here is here because they want to be. Not at the party--heck, most people he talked to seemed to want out--but here.

Tiger's just a kid though. Kids might know what they want, but not enough for a career. Definitely not a career like this.]

Hey, Tiger. If I can ask... what is it d'you like about music?

[He had to have gotten this far for a reason.]

[Uh, what.

Much like any time people try to delve into Tiger's interior world, the question leaves him feeling sort of confused and defensive. Where did this question come from? How does he think it's any of his business? And more importantly, does Tiger actually have an answer?

He likes it when people enjoy his music, is his gut instinct. Which...makes sense. A quieter part of his mind suggests that he likes it when he can make other people happy.

Except for...he obviously doesn't. If anything, he constantly seems to be trying to put others off. Even if his respect for his audience is totally genuine. Heck, being on stage is the only part of his life that seems right.]

I dunno...I like how it feels? Who cares...

[He's suspicious of the question, and how it makes his stomach feel all knotted up.]

Yeah... me too.

[He tucks one knee under his chin, looking off.]

I like how I can make other people feel, too. Like... if I feel happy, or sad, or whatever while playing, and they feel that same way while listening... it's like we're connected.

[Just that thought makes him feel a lot less lonely, sometimes.]

I guess... that might sound kinda dumb.

[It makes more sense to him than he'd like to admit. He feels far more connected to his fanbase than he feels to most people he meets in person. Maybe because they are just like these imaginary people that he can imagine listening to his music and feeling the same things he does. People who might be like him, and might understand. It's somehow not as easy to picture when he knows them up close.

He deflates a little bit more. He feels really lonely, all the time, whenever he's not basking in that kind of acceptance. It's better with his band, but whenever it's something that involves really thinking about himself...]

...Yeah, it's probably kind of dumb.

[His voice is softer when he says it though, like though he's admitting it's dumb, he feels the same way, too.]

[He eyes Tiger again, before glancing away once more.]

You know I used to be a one man band? I was an even bigger loser back then than now, if you can believe it. I'd perform all by myself, and no one ever came.

But now, I've got fans, and my bandmates, and... all the other cool people I meet. [He shifts his weight slightly, glancing over one more time.] So I don't have to worry about doing it alone, anymore.

[Tiger feels sick. His arms tighten around his stomach as he leans forward over his knees. Why does that sentiment hurt him so much? He's only ever had himself to rely on for most of his life, so why does the idea of being able to change that make him so sad?

He clamps his mouth shit and closes his eyes, his head feeling more and more noisy. The idea of not being along is so appealing, but it's like he doesn't know how to do that anymore.

He gets so distracted internally that he forgets to manage his outward appearance. The kid more or less just crumples up on the outside, tears squeezing out the side of his eyes while a hand comes up to grip at his hair. He wants to go home. He wants to go home.]

[The sight of Tiger falling apart makes him ache, and all Greg wants to do is reach out, hug the poor teen, and let him know things are going to work out.

Before he can, however, something in Greg's chest constricts, cold and unyielding, and for a moment he feels like he can't breathe. The disorientation that's been plaguing him since his premonition blooms into full nausea, and he clutches at his slicked hair.

What is he doing? He can't get involved with this. Who does he think he is, to try and butt into this kid's life? What could he possibly know that could be of any use? He can't do a thing about it. He needs to leave this alone before he messes things up.

"No one showed up except--"

"An all--at--...!"

Greg swallows back the nausea and pulls himself back to the present, shaking. Still hunched over himself, he casts a furtive look at Tiger, then away again before another bout of disorientation can descend. He... he can't do this. He's being so stupid. He can't help this kid, and he's an idiot to think he could. It's the thought of how little he can do that makes him feel like this. He has to go.

And leave this kid crying on the stairs.

He rummages through his pockets a moment, remembers he hasn't got anything useful with him in this terrible outfit, before finally pulling out his phone and holding it out to Tiger. Not looking at him. He can't.]

H-here.

[It takes a moment for Tiger to notice that something has been said to him. The shame that comes with the realization is intense. Here he is, crying like a jackass, and he barely even gets why. It's just that...every time he thinks about this stuff, he remembers that brief feeling of hope, of knowing his purpose and knowing he had people to fight for, that makes everything outside of it feel so empty. A momentary high that he doesn't think he'll find again. The type of person that would have those thoughts doesn't even feel like him.

He cracks open his eyes, his whole body going tense, like a prey animal that's just realized how exposed it is to nearby hunters. He doesn't quite reach out to take it. He's honestly scared that Greg is going to try to dick with him somehow, because if someone took advantage of him while he was feeling like this he doesn't know if he could live with himself afterwards.]

What for?

[His voice cracks a little when he speaks, his eyes warily sizing Greg, and his phone, up.]

[Tiger's voice sends another judder through Greg, and he reaffirms his grip, firmly looking away. He needs to back off, before he gets in too deep.]

My number. [He's left it displayed for Tiger to see.] You can text me. If you need... whatever.

[Uhhh ohhh god.

Oh no what?

How does he handle this. How does he...how? If he conspicuously records the number then its a clear acceptance of this offer which he's not sure he's in a state that he can give. So even if some part of him want to...

His stomach flips upside down. He kind of wants to barf, and not out of disgust as would be appropriate. So instead he just kind of stares at Greg in clear shock, and after about ten or fifteen seconds pass of him having no idea what to do he ever so slightly shakes his head and clumsily gets to his feet.

He runs up stairs. He has no idea where this stairwell actually goes, but he's going there.]

[ Yeah.

He figured as much.

For a long few moments, Greg doesn't move, before finally letting his arm drop in defeat. He knew this would happen. He knew, and he still just had to go and push ahead. No one asked for him to go butting in, but he'd just had to ignore common sense.

He curls over his knees, looking down at his phone, and clutches at his hair. A laugh chokes out of him. Wow. He can't believe himself. It's so stupid. How thick can you get? He needs to learn from this. He needs to just back off and leave people alone. No one needs him getting involved.

For a good minute, he sits there, hunched and laughing at himself. Letting it all soak in, so he can really remember this. Finally, he steels himself, pushes himself upright, and tucks his phone away. At least this stupid mask helps hide his eyes.

He goes downstairs.]

[What is he doing?

He climbs the stairs until he reaches the top of wherever they'd going, and cuts out into the hall. There are people up here, but none that he knows, and he acts like he knows where he belongs. He doesn't dare go back down there for the next ever after how badly he just embarrassed himself.

Since when does he cry and run from tryhard old losers trying to give him their phone numbers? He should have just shut him down like a normal person. He should have just said no. So, then, why did he gawk at him for half a minute and then run away in a panic?

What is wrong with him?

He grabs at his hair and feels his eyes start to burn again. He turns to look out the window to pretend it isn't happening, and suddenly, more than anything, he just wants to escape. To run away from everything. To get outside and just...go. Go somewhere that feels safe, that isn't here. Suddenly, that's all he can think about: escape, escape, escape.

He tears down the hallway, trying to find an elevator. What floor is this again? Where is he even? What is he doing? Go back downstairs, part of him demands. Stop whatever this is you're doing. Why can he breathe? You wanted to be here you idiot.

He sits next to a fire escape, burying his face in his knees. Why did Greg even do that? What was he expecting? Was that some kind of joke? He thinks over the interaction, over and over, until a thick knot of anger begins to form in his gut. He thinks about how frustrated he feels, and about how much he hates that guy for making him feel like this. It's his fault. Who does Greg Universe think he is?

Since when does Steven Universe hate people for trying to help him?

Except that's not his name, or at least it hasn't been for a few years now. He's so angry. All these people acting like they'll somehow be the cure to his problems just be being around. Like he can't deal with it himself!

He burns through these cyclical thoughts again and again until he totally loses track of time. He only realizes it's up when his manager is literally there and demanding that he come back down stairs.]

Leave me alone!

[They argue, but briefly. Jin grabs him by the wrist, and she's too strong for him to jerk away. She starts pulling him downstairs, and the fight in him starts to fade immediately.

When they make it back down to the party he doesn't even really notice the reddened circle her hand left around his wrist.]

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☆TRACK I: NOTHING LEFT OF YOU

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