#event: moonshade

[phantommirrored]

@edgedwing

This was annoying. Like...Beyond annoying!! It was too sterile here. Too light. There was hardly any cover, and these robots were relentless! Shadow's shield was taking a pretty insane beating, all things considered...

Shadow took in his surroundings, taking note of the breaker box along the corridor. If he could kill the power, he could run for it and navigate the halls much easier...And stick out less!!

He had to take his time, which for the impatient shade, was easier said than done. He'd managed to cut the power to at least one corridor. Which was unfortunate for anyone navigating around him. But, the infrared detection system the robots were using was a lot easier to see now.

"Hm. Handy..." Shadow spoke to no one in particular as he yanked his sword out of the now broken breaker box. It'd be a matter of time before it was repaired. But, it wasn't time he planned on wasting, using the now pitch black darkness of the hall, he took off. He didn't have a destination in mind, but...It sure beat sitting down and potentially waiting in danger!

[inablinkgone]

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.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He wants to go back to sleep. To will this nightmare away. But stronger than the urge to lie down and surrender to the sweet abyss of unconsciousness is the urge to get up. To fight. To resist whatever this new hell is. And so he does.

Till wishes that the sight of sterile white walls and lab equipment and metal tables just long enough to lay a human body on wasn’t as familiar to him as it is. Unfortunately and fortunately, he isn’t alone, and the dark hair splayed out next to him is equally familiar.

The single spot of darkness among the blinding white is a balm to his aching eyes, as well as a suffocating weight in his chest. Looking at Ivan lying next to him, Till has to fight to keep his heart from fighting its way out of his throat.

Slowly, so slowly, with uncharacteristic quiet and caution, Till drops off his table and slinks towards Ivan’s. He doesn’t want to wake Ivan up either. He’d spare Ivan from this torturous experience if he could. But thinking back to how Ivan would sleep with his eyes open when they were children, to how alert he would try to be, even while unaware, Till knows Ivan wouldn’t be happy with him if he let his friend sleep.

And selfishly, Till needs Ivan. He needs Ivan to tell him that this is real. Tell him that Ivan is real.

Carefully, Till runs his fingers through Ivan’s hair, trying to rouse him as gently as possible back into consciousness. He doesn’t want to startle Ivan more than is strictly necessary. When Ivan opens his eyes, and they inevitably find Till’s, as they always do, Till silently places a finger to his lips, miming for quiet. He shakes his head. Till doesn’t know any more than Ivan does, and it would be useless for Till to speak only to draw attention to them.

Silently, Till stares at Ivan with wide expectant eyes. Surely Ivan will have a plan. He always has a plan.

@foreverembrace

[hallowedpurple]

@iinvertedheavens / event: moonshade.

"It's like some higher power is laughing at me."

He says it while laying down on a metal bed, some sort of examination table, with his hands pressed over his eyes. There's an observational space attached to the space, separated by a thick glass wall. It stifled the sounds of the space beyond, but his Six Eyes could still sense the cursed energy in the space - or the absence of it.

Toji was a dark spot in his periphery, unaffected by the ambient chaos, and carrying a broken bar in his hand. There's a twinge through his chest - first along the scar that crosses his chest and secondarily in a deeper echo of a mark that doesn't remain.

He stands with a careful movement, moving forward to thump his hand against the thick glass until Toji looks at him.

"Hey. We're even right now, yeah? Help me out of here."

[witchoftrinity]

"Really Poms I'm fine!~~ It's just a scratch alright? If it was really hurting too much I would take a break and make sure I was all patched up."

Still the last thing she wanted was for her companion to feel like she needed to be worried about the student. Or worse, mad at themselves that Mika took a hit for them in the first place. Although her forehead was bleeding she still flashed a smile, checking to see if the next door ahead was open.

"Though if we do see another one in that room just let me take care of it alright? N-Not that I think they are going to try and take a scan of you but I'd rather not take the chance. Besides my gun isn't working as usual but it's still a firearm."

@jestistentialcrisis | event s.c

[existentialismee]

"All I know are traditional love songs.. I wonder if that will be enough to help? Certainly Haruka-san didn't teach them to me with this sort of situation in mind.."

[sickhackbassist]

"Alrighty think that's all prepped up now..."

The idea of putting on a concert without most of her bandmates did seem just a little off putting at first. Although once she heard people who could sing could actually make a difference the bassist did manage to muster up enough effort to do such a thing in the first place. Of course she couldn't do it alone, which meant calling the first few people she could think of to actually help out.

"Till~~! There you are!" The bassist shouted from the area behind the stage, her usual demeanor trying to hide all the pent up fear that was growing underneath.

"How's it hangin'? Got everything ya' need to do this?"

@inablinkgone

[inablinkgone]

Loading the magazine into his pistol, Till racks the slide with practiced ease, chambering a round. Keeping the barrel pointed at the ground and his finger carefully off the trigger, he examines it, making sure it’s ready to fire. He nods to himself in satisfaction before tucking the pistol back into his shoulder holster.

Next, Till picks up the bat by his feet. He’s wrapped and nailed down a heavy metal chain to the head of the wood. He seems to test the weight in his hands before leaning it up against a nearby wall, ready to be used.

Finally, he turns to Lyney.

“So…” Till begins with a fatigued casualness, as if he’s at the end of a long but somewhat mundane shift at work, “Veteran stage performer, but no professional singin’ experience, huh?” Till shrugs. “Better t’ be able t’ actually get up on stage than t’ be a pro-singer who can’t even perform…”

‘Like me,’ he thinks to himself, bitterly.

“Okay, lemme see whatcha got. This isn’t an audition or anythin’, obviously, so don’t be nervous. Just sing something you’re comfortable singin’. Put your heart into it. Maybe somethin’ you know for your world.”

Till unholsters his gun, holding it with both hands and pointed at the ground in a ready firing stance.

“Oh, an’ when ya start singin’, the monsters are gonna go for your throat. Try not t’ let it affect your performance. I got ya.”

@ishegayorfontanian

[inablinkgone]

Till had never been the type of idol who was good with crowd work—in fact, he was downright terrible. Rude, belligerent. Un-airable interviews because he swore too much. Not cute or handsome. Not marketable in any way except for his rebellion.

But watching Tenna, Till thinks he can start to appreciate it. How is anyone supposed to resist a call to action like that?

Nervousness and excitement mix together and race up his spine like electricity. It feels like he’s being pulled onto stage by his old leash and collar, dragging him by the neck until he can barely breathe.

But this is the reason he lives.

His only purpose.

The thing he was meant to die for.

“ARE YOU READY?!” Till screams into the mic. The crowd in front of him roars to life again. They’re excited. Hyped up.

‘That’s good,’ Till thinks. ‘This song was meant to be sung in many voices.’

Gripping the microphone with both hands, Till sings into it somberly, his bitterness and regret ringing out across Spirale.

“Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness, I don't know why Just can't get away from myself When I get back on my feet, I'll blow this open wide and carry me home in good health

God, it's been so long wide awake that I feel like someone else I'll miss the way that you saw me or maybe the way I saw myself But, I came back to you broken, and I've been away too long I hear the words I've spoken, and everything comes out wrong I just can't get this together, can't get where I belong Who do you love?”

“EVERYONE!” Till raises his hand and tries to pump up the crowd as lyrics appear on the stage screens just in time for the chorus. “LET ME HEAR YOU SING!”

“Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness, I don't know why Just can't get away from myself When I get back on my feet, I'll blow this open wide and carry me home in good health Screaming, Who do you love? Who do you love? Who do you love?”

Taking the microphone again, Till closes his eyes to sing soulfully. There’s more hope in his voice now, even as it trembles with emotion.

“From fable to fumble, from stable to stumble, nevermore I'll say goodbye to my demons and all my break-evens, ever yours I, I won't come back to you broken, I won't stay away too long Even if words I've spoken seem to still come out wrong I'll get my shit back together, get right where I belong Who do you love?”

“COME ON!” He yells to the crowd, hiding the tension in his voice with sheer volume and rasping growls. “LET THEM HEAR YOU! TELL THEM YOU WON’T BE CAGED! YOU WON’T BE PUT DOWN! SING FOR YOUR FREEDOM AND FOR EVERYONE YOU LOVE!”

The crowd resumes singing with thunderous noise, so loud and visceral, the sound almost knocks Till off his feet. They scream and cheer and stop their feet so loud, they shake the stage.

'Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness, I don't know why Just can't get away from myself When I get back on my feet, I'll blow this open wide and carry me home in good health Screaming, Who do you love? Who do you love? Who do you love?'

The audience continues the song as the lyrics keep playing on the stage screen. They’re so distracted by singing their hearts out and finishing the song, they don’t seem to notice that Till... doesn’t. He slowly and quietly fades into the background, slipping off stage.

He runs, half blinded by the stage lights in the semi-dark of backstage until he hits a wall. Then, following it to a dark corner, he sinks down to his knees behind some supply and prop boxes.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he tries desperately to catch his breath, running his fingers along the scar on his neck over and over—trying to ease the feel of ghostly hands there, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to ignore the familiar voice whispering in his ear.

‘You’re nothing but a burden now. You can’t even finish one song. You’re useless. Useless. Useless. Useless.’