Post by Netreemic on May 27, 2011 16:18:13 GMT -6
[*sigh* Sorry Hawk, not the best writing, but it seemed best to get the ball rolling. Hopefully something amusing will result~ >w<'' *fails*]
Absalon tipped back the bill of his worn baseball cap, blinking against the light patter of rain, and squinted at the giant screen high up the building across the street. People hurrying beneath umbrellas moved around him where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, rushing to get out of the inclement weather. Oblivious to his own sodden state, he watched the events scroll by: a monster truck rally, hockey tournaments, and a number of bands. He smiled up at the screen as it flashed up a new band and hundreds of little bulbs recreated a familiar face.
Belial stood amid an interesting crew, the colorful batch of men casting cool smiles at the passerbys below. It was a relief to see the pianist looking well…even if the healthy glow was the result of electricity. But mostly still the same old Bells with his calm easiness and mussed up hair. His new people seemed to be treating him well. Not that life had been horrible before – at least Loni really hoped it hadn’t been – but they looked like a nice bunch of kids. A good little family in their own peculiar way.
Then the screen switched back to the monster trucks and he grinned at the colorful vehicles smashing the crap out of rusty junkers. It looked like fun…he shook his head, dislodging a spray of water, and pushed giant tires and roaring engines from his mind. He used the break between advertisements to double check the tarp wrapping the guitar case and a large knapsack slung across his back. The extent of his possessions for his ‘solo world tour.’ Wouldn’t want to ruin it all because he had left his umbrella somewhere.
He had been slumming in a diner a few cities over when he overheard some young people discussing the group in high, breathy tones – he wondered if Belial was aware how much his personal life was inspected under the rabid fan microscope - and had hitchhiked his way into town. He was already on this side of the ocean on sabbatical; it would be a shame to miss seeing Belial’s new gig. The band filled the screen again and the text filling the lower half of the display confirmed he had arrived on time. Actually, a little in advance thanks to a rather reckless pickup truck.
But for all that the sign alerted him to the concert in the near future, it didn’t inform him where to find his old friend between now and then. It looked like he had a long game of search and annoy ahead of him. Hefting his bag, Loni jogged across the street with a hearty wave at the honking cars. They had nothing on Gravedigger.
The security guards, however, were certainly far more intimidating. Good lord, they looked like they were about to explode out of their bright yellow ponchos. He considered the options – throwing rocks to distract them with unexpected noises was quickly eliminated – and strolled passed with an innocent whistle. None of the hired muscle seemed terribly concerned as he circled the building until he found an open door leading to the ticketing counter. Absalon made a point of sniffling, shaking out his sleeves in view of the clerk and ramping up his kicked puppy look. The woman gestured at the glowing bathroom sign down the hall before turning to the couple that entered behind him.
These new super powerful blow-dryers were amazing. It was like getting a scalp massage from invisible hands. He shook his head back and forth, reveling in the warmth fluffing up his hair. It had already dried out his shirt and jacket in a few milliseconds. Miracles of technology. Much drier, he took a second to reorganize his bag and then ambled into the hall, guitar case in hand. Look like you belong – the all purpose pass. The addition of a tray of still steaming coffee cups momentarily abandoned by some harried looking lady helped with his disguise and provided a handy bribe at the next security checkpoint.
Two cups still in hand, Loni had successfully infiltrated the building. Cue the Bond theme song~
Absalon tipped back the bill of his worn baseball cap, blinking against the light patter of rain, and squinted at the giant screen high up the building across the street. People hurrying beneath umbrellas moved around him where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, rushing to get out of the inclement weather. Oblivious to his own sodden state, he watched the events scroll by: a monster truck rally, hockey tournaments, and a number of bands. He smiled up at the screen as it flashed up a new band and hundreds of little bulbs recreated a familiar face.
Belial stood amid an interesting crew, the colorful batch of men casting cool smiles at the passerbys below. It was a relief to see the pianist looking well…even if the healthy glow was the result of electricity. But mostly still the same old Bells with his calm easiness and mussed up hair. His new people seemed to be treating him well. Not that life had been horrible before – at least Loni really hoped it hadn’t been – but they looked like a nice bunch of kids. A good little family in their own peculiar way.
Then the screen switched back to the monster trucks and he grinned at the colorful vehicles smashing the crap out of rusty junkers. It looked like fun…he shook his head, dislodging a spray of water, and pushed giant tires and roaring engines from his mind. He used the break between advertisements to double check the tarp wrapping the guitar case and a large knapsack slung across his back. The extent of his possessions for his ‘solo world tour.’ Wouldn’t want to ruin it all because he had left his umbrella somewhere.
He had been slumming in a diner a few cities over when he overheard some young people discussing the group in high, breathy tones – he wondered if Belial was aware how much his personal life was inspected under the rabid fan microscope - and had hitchhiked his way into town. He was already on this side of the ocean on sabbatical; it would be a shame to miss seeing Belial’s new gig. The band filled the screen again and the text filling the lower half of the display confirmed he had arrived on time. Actually, a little in advance thanks to a rather reckless pickup truck.
But for all that the sign alerted him to the concert in the near future, it didn’t inform him where to find his old friend between now and then. It looked like he had a long game of search and annoy ahead of him. Hefting his bag, Loni jogged across the street with a hearty wave at the honking cars. They had nothing on Gravedigger.
The security guards, however, were certainly far more intimidating. Good lord, they looked like they were about to explode out of their bright yellow ponchos. He considered the options – throwing rocks to distract them with unexpected noises was quickly eliminated – and strolled passed with an innocent whistle. None of the hired muscle seemed terribly concerned as he circled the building until he found an open door leading to the ticketing counter. Absalon made a point of sniffling, shaking out his sleeves in view of the clerk and ramping up his kicked puppy look. The woman gestured at the glowing bathroom sign down the hall before turning to the couple that entered behind him.
These new super powerful blow-dryers were amazing. It was like getting a scalp massage from invisible hands. He shook his head back and forth, reveling in the warmth fluffing up his hair. It had already dried out his shirt and jacket in a few milliseconds. Miracles of technology. Much drier, he took a second to reorganize his bag and then ambled into the hall, guitar case in hand. Look like you belong – the all purpose pass. The addition of a tray of still steaming coffee cups momentarily abandoned by some harried looking lady helped with his disguise and provided a handy bribe at the next security checkpoint.
Two cups still in hand, Loni had successfully infiltrated the building. Cue the Bond theme song~