In everything that was happening around them, never mind the colliding of thunder and anticipation and adrenaline in their chest, their eyes were locked on Phoebe. Over the din of it all, a voice of concern could still be heard in the back of their mind. They opened their mouth, about to ask if the woman was okay for a second time - or maybe what she was thinking about, it was difficult to remember when just as Riley made to speak, lightning cracked across the sky like a whip. It illuminated the park in a brilliant flash, their words forgotten. With it came a new emotion.
Suddenly, it was all a little overwhelming. They were reminded of the first time they listened to Dionysus, the way the hive mind had only made them feel panicked. Something in it spoke of first coming across Lucifer, too, and how the pull towards him had only inspired wariness. Maybe they were just too young for it all, or maybe they’d spent too much of their life made to worship one god to simply accept the control of another. When Riley paused to think about it, the power they all possessed was nothing short of terrifying, and Oya was proving herself no different.
All of that hesitation, though, was washed away - not with the rain, but with the woman’s words. ‘She’s already here’. A wave of comfort ran over them at the thought.
“Good,” the word was pulled from their lips without thinking. Riley paused, trying to pretend that in itself didn’t startle them. “It’s her concert, after all.”
“I don’t like it,” Phoebe blurted. Or tried to. She was tongue-tied. She wanted to sit down. All that came out was, “I don’t.”
There was lightning and thunder and rain, and the stars shone too-too much, and then... and then, almost in unison, it was as if the whole gathered crowd pivoted to face Oya’s “stage” on the wet grass. She was her own spotlight, and she flickered like a zoetrope and moved too fast, in the wrong directions, impossibly, without falling-- all at once, and all before the dancing even really began.
The endorphins kicked in. Phoebe’s teeth were still chattering. But then in the shifting lights of whatever was happening to Oya, or what was being shown of Oya, or whatever Oya was, it was as if she turned and looked into the eyes of everyone in the park at once. Or maybe it was just Phoebe-- she couldn’t tell, except she felt rooted to the spot, and then the beat felt like it was daring her pulse to keep time.
This isn’t real. I don’t like this. This isn’t real.
Who are you trying to convince?
Phoebe looked at the teenager who was staring back at her, and cackled, roughly, scraping her guts with it like the laughter could hollow her out. Oya winiwini, Oyansa Oya winiwini. The wind and the music wrapped around them and pulled the sound away almost faster than Phoebe could hear herself. “...Well, I’ve never been to a concert like this.”
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