cannabis fills the air among amps, plugs, instruments, and bodies. crouched in between their gear, a post-show smoke in his van is well deserved. smoke curls around fingers and cords, fills lungs. exhale. fuck. irritated nerves are soothed by a medicinal cocktail of indica and sativa that lure ciaran into a state of comatose complacency. wholly lucid mind abandoning him, as does intense self-criticism. before passing the blunt along, his lips press against the strawberry flavored stem one more time. his edges soften, though that doesn’t say much. this version of ciaran, coasting on a high, is less intense but still every bit as charismatic and cunning. “have you guys given what i said before the show any more thought ?? about the sacrifice ??” it’s been on his mind all night, during their whole set. they could have the world if they let themselves. if they were brave enough to take what they deserved at any cost. he’s told them that, too. “i know i keep bringing it up, but we all need to be in or it won’t work. we’ve really got something to say, something important, and if we don’t go through with it then nobody will hear it. at least not anyone outside of this bumfuck town. not anyone that matters. if we don’t do it, we’re stuck here forever and we don’t accomplish anything we’ve dreamed of.” pessimistic preacher shakes his head before a rough palm cups soft flesh that rests on his knee. “c’mon, gia. i know you know i’m right.” she’s sold. he's certain it before she can speak. he already knew the drummer would be the harder of the two to inspire. dark eyes flicker upward to greet him, something intimidating resting behind them. “what do you say, isiah ??”
her head rests on the bassist’s lap, gazing up at him through a hazy cloud of smoke. with her fingers, she interrupts its curling, causing it to dissolve and disappear as she grasps for the blunt. taking it to already parted lips, she breathes in until a fire threatens to ignite in her chest. breath is held for eons without so much as a cough. always a fucking show off. his words sink into her skull, pulling at her thoughts. a virgin sacrifice for a record deal ?? something about that didn’t feel like a trade of equal value. yet she is still considering it a serious option. ciaran had really sold it, made the band feel as if they’re owed what they would receive. he’d done a fine job of convincing them that to not go through with it would be to interfere with their own destinies. perhaps she also feels that a debt is owed to ciaran. gia may be the voice and face, but he is the heart. the muscle that gives them everything, after all they wouldn’t have made it this far if he hadn’t invited himself to join her band. he’d gotten them a regular gig and sure the bar sucked and most nights they broke even, but they were still playing and people were still listening. he was offering them a surefire chance to do what they had been talking about doing the moment the band was conceived. “i’m in if isiah is in.” at the mention of his name, she offers the blunt in the boy’s direction as her eyes fall upon him with an expectant look. CLOSED STARTER FOR @inrevrse
