terrance ward || trauma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
traumatizing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-04-20 12:33 am
traumatizing) wrote in interstellar55552016-04-20 12:33 am
Entry tags:
[open] I built this place with broken parts
Who: Terry and ANYONE
What: Somebody is opening for another band and it goes a little sideways
When: April 15th
Where: Sinnamon
Warnings: General mediocre horror? Like 'Black Parade promo shoots' level horror. Body horror lite?
[Well after an unfortunate Cheap Sushi incident, Terry is taking the spot as opener for some mid-level band. Generate some goodwill with the label, you know? They're some goth industrial outfit - really good, but never seemed to get far with the label for some reason. Terry can't help but think that's a good thing - and his personal stuff meshes really well. It's a good platform for the band too, something Page is excited about. So he looks good, his music's good, his manager's happy. This is... Not terrible.]
[It's all going great, until the penultimate song. As he plays-- really gets into it, he starts drawing on people in the crowd, and the stage changes around him. Colour drains until it's almost not there at all, and it almost seems colder somehow. A fog rolls in, sitting heavy on the ground, and the lights dim as shadows dance-- marionette like in their movements, but there are no strings, and their bodies are... wrong. Bodies long and slender in ways no human could be. Bodies that bend in ways that must be broken or just plain inhuman. Sometimes there's the glow of blue eyes from the darkness, locked on someone in the crowd as they dance, and just as suddenly they flicker and vanish. As if they were never there to begin with.]
[Ocassionally, he catches someone who's particularly panicked and Terry's gaze snaps toward them. He sings as if for them, calming their nerves and encouraging them to enjoy the show, but for the most part he's totally absorbed in the music. Almost totally unaware of the fact that he's on a stage in front of hundreds of people from behind the synth setup and the microphone.]
[After the show he takes a few minutes to head out to the bar, chatting with fans and talking up the main event. A lot of people came to see him, but Psychopomp are really good, and they deserve the attention. But there's only so many times he can hear about how cool it was and "guess that's why they call you Trauma, huh?" before he has to go backstage.]
[If no one else manages to stop him to chat, he hurries back where he can be alone for a bit. Pulls his shirt off and sits up against a wall with the fresh tee he brought to change into draped over his knees, ostensibly just needing to cool down a bit after an intense set. Totally not because he's extremely freaked out by what just happened and how it feels familiar in all the wrong ways, but totally alien too.]
[Just chillin' with a beer, that's all.]
What: Somebody is opening for another band and it goes a little sideways
When: April 15th
Where: Sinnamon
Warnings: General mediocre horror? Like 'Black Parade promo shoots' level horror. Body horror lite?
[Well after an unfortunate Cheap Sushi incident, Terry is taking the spot as opener for some mid-level band. Generate some goodwill with the label, you know? They're some goth industrial outfit - really good, but never seemed to get far with the label for some reason. Terry can't help but think that's a good thing - and his personal stuff meshes really well. It's a good platform for the band too, something Page is excited about. So he looks good, his music's good, his manager's happy. This is... Not terrible.]
[It's all going great, until the penultimate song. As he plays-- really gets into it, he starts drawing on people in the crowd, and the stage changes around him. Colour drains until it's almost not there at all, and it almost seems colder somehow. A fog rolls in, sitting heavy on the ground, and the lights dim as shadows dance-- marionette like in their movements, but there are no strings, and their bodies are... wrong. Bodies long and slender in ways no human could be. Bodies that bend in ways that must be broken or just plain inhuman. Sometimes there's the glow of blue eyes from the darkness, locked on someone in the crowd as they dance, and just as suddenly they flicker and vanish. As if they were never there to begin with.]
[Ocassionally, he catches someone who's particularly panicked and Terry's gaze snaps toward them. He sings as if for them, calming their nerves and encouraging them to enjoy the show, but for the most part he's totally absorbed in the music. Almost totally unaware of the fact that he's on a stage in front of hundreds of people from behind the synth setup and the microphone.]
[After the show he takes a few minutes to head out to the bar, chatting with fans and talking up the main event. A lot of people came to see him, but Psychopomp are really good, and they deserve the attention. But there's only so many times he can hear about how cool it was and "guess that's why they call you Trauma, huh?" before he has to go backstage.]
[If no one else manages to stop him to chat, he hurries back where he can be alone for a bit. Pulls his shirt off and sits up against a wall with the fresh tee he brought to change into draped over his knees, ostensibly just needing to cool down a bit after an intense set. Totally not because he's extremely freaked out by what just happened and how it feels familiar in all the wrong ways, but totally alien too.]
[Just chillin' with a beer, that's all.]
no subject
Thanks. [He gives the guy a curious look, wondering why he recognises him, and then:] Hue & Cry, right?