An idol and competitor on the titular ALIEN STAGE.
An up-and-coming participant who skyrocketed in popularity due to his dark rock ballads and mysterious appearance and personality.
A fan of classical literature who holds a distinct interest in human history and belief.
He talks very oddly, and has a hard time relating to people. His quiet and thoughtful nature leads most to think he is mysterious - and that's true in more ways than one.
An extremely intelligent and capable man who was one of the few able to escape ANAKT GARDEN, but chose to return because he's also deeply emotional.
Namely, deeply attached toward one of his fellow idols in particular. It's not a healthy attachment, but it's definitely love.
Has red pupils in his eyes with jet black irises and a single sharp fang, leaving him with both an alluring and intimidating appearance.
Half-blinded by tears, Till feels more that sees Ivan pull away. He shakes his head again in noiseless protest, but he doesn’t stop Ivan. He can’t make Ivan stay with him. Not again.
But he also can’t make himself let go of Ivan’s hands either. He holds them tighter, helplessly drawn into Ivan’s gravity like always, an effect so constant in his life that he didn’t realize what it was until it was gone, like a binary star that had lost its other half and started drifting through space unmoored. Till never wants to feel that alone again, the cold darkness of the vast universe pressing down on him, so unlike the warm shadows he’d come to find comfort in.
Grasping Ivan’s hand in a white-knuckled grip, Till grits his teeth in determination before he suddenly sprints out the door and into the hallway, leading Ivan along behind him this time. Over the pounding of their footsteps, Till hears one of the doors open in the hallway behind them, but he doesn’t even slow down. He immediately takes a left when he reaches the end of the corridor, dragging Ivan with him. Then he takes the next right, then a left, then another right, all the while hearing doors whoosh open as they run past them, desperately searching for a way out like a rat caught in a maze.
Till hears the whir of the robot before he turns the corner, but he’s powerless to stop his own momentum. Crashing into the wall instead, Till shoves Ivan back just as the gunfire rings out from the corridor in front of them.
Sharp pain like a spinal tap makes Till gasp before it suddenly dulls with frightening speed. He stumbles and falls toward Ivan, his legs unable to support him all at once. In fact, Till can’t feel his legs at all. He can only feel phantom pain shooting down his spine and the sickly sensation of his own blood warming his torso.
Hearing more gunshots behind him, Till uses his arms to drag himself behind the wall with Ivan, clawing pathetically at the ground and smearing it with his blood. He looks up at his friend, his eyes wide with fear—not the fear of pain or death, but one that comes from being trapped and restrained in this new and horrifying way.
Meeting Ivan’s dark eyes, Till opens his mouth to speak and spits out only blood instead.
‘Run.’ Till mouths with bloodied lips, a shadow of grim acceptance falling over his fear-bright eyes.
Relief floods his chest, but it's more akin to the momentary relief of the rain before it becomes a deluge. He doesn't know what the right move is, or was, or could possibly be. There feels like very little strategy at play, instead they were rats in a maze. They were being played with, their trauma extrapolated upon.
But still, when Till ran ahead of him, he couldn't help but panic as the rainwater threatened to overtake him. He's being dragged along, and while the childlike side of him felt exhilarated that Till was taking the lead, he couldn't help but feel something dire was going to happen...
If that door was a bright star to him, then it was a meteor streaking across the sky to Till.
He hears the whir as he's being pushed back, looking down at the mess of Till. Still alive. Not a mercy.
Hardly a mercy.
"Till?" A tear streaks down his cheek before he can think about it. Not due to the situation, but...Ah, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure. He was too surprised to be sad. He must be in shock, that must be what it is.
He wants to lay down right next to Till, take a warm bath in his blood, but...No, Till is alive. He can't simply resign himself. Not without trying.
He waits, quietly, before stalking over, low, on all fours. His fingers press into the blood, and he hooks an arm underneath Till's, dragging him - painfully he's sure - across the floor while the gun discharges its used ammunition.
If he's quick....
If he's quick...
He hears the footsteps behind him before he can lift up Till, turning around and sweeping his foot out to see if he could take advantage of their new assailant not thinking he was aware.
It was robotic but...
It was difficult to call it human, the way its coal black eyes looked at him. Eyes was a long shot, but the burning red centers gave it a haunting appearance. Haunting him, it seemed, as the thing looked at him with the same calm that he -
It stabbed him before he could think on the implications further. The knife went into his gut, yanked up into his diaphragm, he feels as though he's been rended open, but he can't help but look down in awe as his organs spill out. His fingers twitched as he fell back, head hitting Till's shoulder.
"S-sorry-" he was able to manage. Sorry for not running? Sorry for not saving him? He's not sure. But he'd rather be here, he thinks, nuzzling into Till's bloody face. He's not even sure if either of them are alive.
Ah...
He brings a hand up, the hauntingly familiar robot watching them with almost curiosity as he places that hand on Till's other cheek. "I-"
...
...
He wakes up again...his fingers twitch with the memory. He's up first this time. His fingers dance along where the wound had been, where his organs had been exposed. He's not sure if he wants Till to have seen or not.
He walks over, legs weak as he places a hand on Till's shoulder, gently. And then he leans down, pressing his face into Till's chest instead, inhaling him without the scent of blood.
"Fuck," he breathes out. He ruffles his hair with his fingers, then shakes his head. "Fine. Yeah, we want this to sound good." He wouldn't take anything less than.
The faster they got this done, the better.
Periwinkle eyes look to the creatures, the guards already ready to attack.
"Here goes," with the guitar having been adjusted just a moment ago, he begins strumming, waiting for Ivan's first lyrics to the song.
He almost responds that they need this to sound good, perhaps even that the other was lucky he was being given the guitar.
It was difficult not to look as a duet as a competition as he waits for the intro, performing the bass tab as he needs to. Bass is something he's more than average at, as it requires repetitive counting. Nothing flashy nor creative.
He leaves the creativity of the guitar to others.
But what he's best at, is...
"Model house life meltdown still a modern dream letdown, it kills me
You know I'm dying out here
What would you trade the pain for?
I'm not sure
We were a hammer to the Statue of David
We were a painting you could never frame, and
You were the sunshine of my lifetime
What would you trade the pain for?"
Between the music echoing throughout the ward, and now the lyrics, he can see them bringing in the monsters. Stage lights go on as they need to so the combatants can see what they're doing at the evening concert.
He hardly has any reaction to it, used to the danger of the stage, his eyes are almost deadened, into a complete state of calm:
"This city always hangs a little bit lonely on me, loose
Like a kid playing pretend in his father's suit-"
As Ivan sings, Andrale strikes. She was on the stage one moment, the next her dagger sinks into a weak spot of her first target.
It is no different than fighting alongside Leliana. Ivan's voice may be singing, but her blades could be considered her own contribution to the harmony. Andrale keeps her focus not on her nostalgia, but the monsters.
No different than hoards of darkspawn. There is no break, no time for her to breathe. Not even as her side gets cut into by a claw.
She stumbles, but only for a mere second. Andrale pushes on, finding every spot she needed to keep taking these things down. Even despite the new wounds that join her side.
His eyes narrow briefly as she stumbles, looking at the enemies that are trying to circumvent her to get to him. He's terrible at trust, he doesn't want to trust his agency to a stranger - nor does he want to give his life for one. While he is not entirely selective with whether he lives or dies - particularly given recent incidents - he has plans for whom he does give it for.
He continues:
"And how was I supposed to save you
when I never found a way to save myself?
We found each-other at the bottom of the sea
but another sunken ship just ain't much help."
Enemies try and flank his solo warrior, making their way to the side of the stage to try and get to him. He wonders how he appears to the only ally in the audience, looking completely calm even as death closes in on the stage.
It's nothing new to him.
And so he does what he knows best:
"I watch the highway out the window
And I miss the way you'd laugh at my dumb jokes
And while I don't know where you are now
I like to think that you've got life up on the ropes.
You don't need to forgive me
I know the bed I've made
I just hope you found yourself a better heart to break."
Interview the Muse! (For Ivan, honest answers in parentheses)
► ARE YOU SINGLE?↳ "I am dedicated to my fans." (Yes)
► ARE YOU HAPPY?↳ "Why wouldn't I be?" (No)
► ARE YOU ANGRY? ↳ "Why would I be?" (Yes)
► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED?↳ "Oh, yes my guardians are married." (They aren't my parents. I was bought as a present.)
NINE FACTS.
► BIRTH PLACE↳ "Oh, well, Earth, I suppose?" (I was born out in the streets)
► HAIR COLOR↳ "Black."
► EYE COLOR ↳ "Black with red pupils."
► BIRTHDAY↳ "My adoption day is February 14th." (I don't know my birthday)
► MOOD↳ "Oh, some people say I'm moody...But others think I can be pretty charming!" (People think I'm a weird freak.)
► GENDER↳ "I consider myself a man." (I haven't considered it.)
► SUMMER OR WINTER↳ "Summer is the best for music festivals." (Winter.)
► MORNING OR AFTERNOON↳ "Of course I have to be up early for practice." (Late afternoon)
► SPOKEN LANGUAGES↳ "Um, whatever I'm speaking now, I guess?" (I can read a decent number of languages, but most were lost to time in my world.)
CHOICES.
► LOVE OR LUST ↳ "Love!" (I don't know if I can even lust without love, but I'm not sure.)
► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ↳ "Lemonade is a perfect summer treat." (Iced tea helps me stay up a bit later, but it needs to be really sweet.)
► CATS OR DOGS↳ "Dogs!" (Definitely dogs.)
► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ↳ "Well, I consider my fans to be my friends." (I only need those three.)
► DAY OR NIGHT↳ "Night time is a really nice time to hold the concert under the stars." (You can't really see the stars either way.)
HAVE YOU EVERS.
► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ↳ "Well, sometimes, I was a cheeky kid..." (No.)
► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ↳ "Everyone can be a little clumsy." (No.)
► WANTED TO DISAPPEAR ↳ "Of course not!" (Always.)
FAMILY.
► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ↳ "Ah, that's complicated." (We had a mutually beneficial relationship.)
► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ↳ "Mm, well, everyone I've known has had a tough time, mine hasn't been as difficult." (I'm relatively lucky that my guardians found me useful.)
► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ↳ "Aha, hasn't every kid at least tried?" (Yes.)
► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ↳ "Oh, of course not." (I was far too useful.)
FRIENDS.
► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ↳ "I could never!" (I have mixed feelings sometimes, about how lucky some of my friends are to have each other).
► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS↳ "Well, as I said, my fans are my friends, so, of course-" (Those three are like family to me.)
► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND↳ "Till." (Till.)
► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU↳ "I try to let myself be an open book." (Nobody.)
Even if he could speak, Till isn’t sure how he’d tell Ivan that his death doesn’t prove that he’s real. At least, not to Till. That Ivan dies all the time in his dreams. Even while he’s awake, Ivan’s death haunts him with visions of a pale specter with burning eyes and a sharp-toothed smile with blood between his teeth.
It’s actually Ivan’s gentleness that shows to Till he’s here and not some mirage. Ivan was sometimes hurtful without warning, unexpectedly harsh so suddenly that it left Till spinning and unsure, but the real Ivan could never compare to how cruel Till’s own subconscious was to him. The unfair image of Ivan that Till paints in his mind was never kind to him; it could only spit Till’s greatest insecurities back at him using Ivan’s tongue and piercing eyes.
Till allows himself the briefest moment to be held, to relax in Ivan’s hold and let him soothe away his fears, before he’s shaking his head, vehemently denying Ivan’s every word, his eyes wide with panic. He surges back, twice as strong and just as desperate. Till clutches Ivan’s shirt with white knuckles and squeezes his arms around Ivan, as if he could compress Ivan down into something small enough to swallow whole and keep safe inside of him forever.
Because, despite all of Till’s fighting and rebelling, in the end, he’s just a coward. A frightened kid who would choose love and safety over freedom.
Till had wanted to believe that he could be different, had promised Ivan that he would be different this time… But he’s still a coward.
He’d rather look into Ivan’s eyes every moment of every day for the rest of his life, knowing how much he’d disappointed him, than to be without him ever again.
As far as Till is concerned, his whole life exists within these four walls now, held here in his arms.
He doesn't tilt Till's face up by his chin, knowing that last time it led to ruin. He wants to beg Till to look at him, to see that he's here, and yet....
He can't force it, he doesn't wan to see the fear in Till's eyes again, not directed at him. He can't do it. He's a coward...But he's a selfish coward. Instead, he extricates himself from Till, but grasps onto his hands, tugging him up off the floor.
"We have to go."
He tries to urge Till, grasping his hands. Exhaling, he turns around, he feels his hear about to leap out of his chest. The medical white room turns red, a reflection of his pupils that makes his chest constrict. He can feel Till's hand in his grip behind him.
The door is a bright star.
His eyes are completely dry now, as is his mouth. He looks into the abyss, he sees his choices flashing back at him. He hears Till crying, begging to know why he stayed.
He knows why he stayed.
And he knows why they have to go.
The answer is the same.
"Till..."
"We're going now." He doesn't beg for Till to come with him, he just hopes, staring into the night sky in his own mind, that Till won't let go of his hand this time.
Andrale felt way more like herself, truth be told. The weight of her daggers in her hands felt right. She is way more comfortable in this type of fray.
Andrale had found herself at this stage not too long before the artist picked up their instrument. When they address her, she nods sharply back.
"I am ready," Andrale answers. "You will be safe under my watch."
The way that line leaves her sounds less like a promise and more like an oath.
She means it, though. The elf takes a steadying breath and waits for the first note to play.
The melody comes in shortly after she responds, as though the notes sprung from his fingers onto the guitar, an instrument he didn't often play but knew so well from watching.
The performance is flawless, and is only aided by the earnest way in which he sings the song. If anyone had heard him perform before, this wouldn't be too far away from the somber tones associated with him, but...
Something was different.
"And so I sit here at the table
Writing all the things that I'm too scared to say
And by the time you found my letter
I imagine I'll be well upon my way."
The monsters already started flagging, charging from all sides in desperation, but he sits on his stool and continues to strum.
Juliyah shakes his head with a huff, "Please don't make me sing." Not that Ivan probably would, right? The Pride in him wants him to get on stage and show everyone just how good he is, but Juliyah wasn't going to give it that satisfaction
"I can play the guitar, no problem. I can keep up and do both parts," he says once he's looked over the music sheet.
"Well, then it won't sound nearly as good. Music is about the back and forth." He reaches over and grabs the bass, shaking his head, hoping it appears to be fond. "We want this to sound good, don't we?"
Not that this person could compare to his own favorite guitarist, but he could settle.
He's fairly certain his bad personality is showing through as he stands up, adjusting the bass so it fits him better, adjusting the mic stand so it's at his height.
"You start whenever, the opening is instrumental, and I think our audience is getting restless." He points, a bunch of the anomalies charging through the front lines.
He can hear something behind the door. Cocking his head to the side, Till only half listens to Ivan. His sensitive ears pick up a familiar noise, and he frowns. It sounds familiar… almost like the whir of the robot caretakers they’d had back in Anakt...
“Ivan-” Till tugs at the other’s hand more insistently. “Wait, I-”
But a deafening noise takes Till by surprise, and between one blink and the next, Ivan is—
‘No—’
This has to be a dream. A nightmare. A different twist to the ones that usually haunt Till, but with the same ending. This is the part where Till wakes up—
But Till doesn’t wake up—
‘Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wakeupwakupwakeupwakeupwakeup—’
Till chants in his head as he stares at Ivan’s lifeless face. He’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or to Ivan’s empty body, so full of energy just seconds ago. He’s even smiling—that mysterious smile Till doesn’t understand, like he always is when Till sees his bloodied face in his dreams and his waking nightmares.
A tiny voice in his head tells him to run, that there’s danger here. That he’s going to die next. But he’s having a hard time hearing it over the thunder and the clamor of heavy rain all around him. He can’t convince his legs to move to save his life when all the vivacity in his world lies unmoving at his feet. When what little color around him drains to the red blood pooling around Ivan’s body.
It feels like Till has been standing in the rain for hours; he’s so cold and numb. His senses are so deadened, Till hardly feels the bullets piercing his own chest. Dropping to his knees, his failing mind struggles to take in the familiar sight of blood soaking the knees of his pants.
‘Ah. Finally,’ he thinks as his vision goes dark and he collapses. ‘It’s… warm…”
——————————
The way Till jolts awake, startled by something that isn’t one of his usual nightmares, he knows before he even opens his eyes that something is very wrong. There’s an icy feeling that settles in his gut as the unmistakable scent of bleach burns his nose and the fluorescent white lights sear his cornea through his eyelids.
Till’s eyes snap open, and he whips his head to the side to stare at the table next to him.
Ivan.
Looking angelic, his thick dark lashes fanning out against his sharp cheekbones. Perfect and peaceful.
Too angelic and peaceful, maybe.
Till holds his breath until he sees Ivan’s chest move. He’s breathing.
There’s no gentle wake-up this time. Till kicks Ivan’s table, knocking it over and dropping Ivan unceremoniously to the floor.
Till jumps over the metal surface now between Ivan and the door to their room, wrapping Ivan in his arms and crowding him against the table. Pressing Ivan desperately to his chest, Till tucks Ivan’s head under his chin, frantically trying to cover as much of Ivan’s body as possible with his own, smaller frame.
For a moment, Till is frozen except for the panic-stricken tremors that wrack his body. It’s only when he feels Ivan’s breath on his neck, his heart beating against his chest, that tears come to his eyes. With a wordless sob that rattles the ribs in his chest, Till collapses onto Ivan, hiding his face in Ivan's dark hair.
Usually there's nothing, but he anticipated something.
Although he supposed he hadn't died here yet, considering he was alive and not simply ashes scattered across Anakt would give him an indicator that he likely would be back again.
What he didn't expect was to be woken up by falling off a table, and then being held. His heart is beating way too fast, at first because of the adrenaline, and then because of the situation he found himself upon waking.
He hates that he briefly thinks that he'll die more often if this is how he's brought back.
Wiping his own tears from his eyes, he places his hands firmly on Till's shoulders, voice more hoarse than he expected when he speaks: "Well, I suppose that proves I'm real." He's glad, on one hand, that he does remember their last conversation. Although he wonders about it - why Till would think he's not real. He pulls himself from other Till's chin, with some difficulty, letting the other man fall against him as he curls in on both of them.
But...
They're under those lights again, his eyes hurt, they're trapped where they started.
"Till."
He tugs Till's face away from his chest, thumbing away Till's tears. He wants to remain like this forever being held by Till, while Till cries over him. But...
But...
More important than that, than those selfish thoughts, is the bile rising in the back of his throat at their situation. That Till would find himself bound and imprisoned not only by Ivan's affections, but by whatever would take the place of the segyein now.
"We have to go. Can you stand?"
It was more urgent now, if they would be met by deadly force.
He'd been avoiding taking the stage with Till, but with most of the combatants on a final push through the portal, it was becoming more urgent than ever to keep the monsters that were still here under control. The weaker fighters had stayed back as far as he could tell, and while the others put up a last stand on the moon, they were also making sure there was some island left to return to.
He can see in Till's posture that he's scared - and he knows that part of that fear is directed toward himself. He has to be the one to take a step forward, even if he's dragging Till along behind him.
"Let's do this one," he pushes his phone at Till, sliding it across the top of the piano on stage, knowing that they were both familiar enough with the song without it being a song they had sung together at Anakt. Or on stage. "You start, and I'll join in second - like we usually do." He tries to smile, exhaustion unable to be completely hidden by his mask.
"I think...it would be best if we both sing, you play guitar, I'll play piano. We need as much power as we can get right now, right?" He's being selfish again, he knows,
