Draft 2, Part 1: Virtue; Grenadine
Virtue meets the rest of the band
The next day, Virtue drives to the designated ‘practice room’ of the band. It’s a small house in a quiet neighborhood, and Virtue sees that they really did live as a garage band. What looks to be thousands upon thousands of cords come out of various outlets into extensions, and to the various speakers.
In the back is a set of drums, with the front of the bass drum painted to show a detailed painting of a microphone; its cord turning into detailed cursive reading Bardic Inspiration. Leaning against the wall is a bass guitar, dark purple in color with specks of black. Next to that is an electric guitar, this one warm brown and gold colored, with black crows wings spreading across the body of it. And finally, sitting in the center of the garage, are three mic stands with an unplugged microphone in each one.
“Well, this is the place.” Bug crosses his arms, a confident grin set upon his face. “Everyone else will be here soon, but Michael. This is his moms’ house, and also his but really it’s his moms’.”
As if summoned, the door to the inside of the house opens, and a young man awkwardly shuffles sideways out into the garage. On his back is a pair of large black wings, the highest arch of them easily resting a good six inches above his short black hair, and the tips of the lowest feathers are barely above the ground.
He rolls his shoulders back, wings shaking slightly, and he smiles while walking towards Virtue with a hand out. “Hey, I’m Michael.”
Virtue takes Michael’s hand, giving it one firm shake before stepping backwards. “Virtue, your new manager.” They introduce themselves, and Michael’s grin grows larger.
“Sweet! Well, Gem and Airael are on their way right now, and should be here within the first few minutes.” He shakes his arms slightly, then goes up to Bug. “We are gonna play some music today, right?”
“Of course, Virtue here has to know how epic the band that they’ll be managing is.” Bug assures, and a car pulls up to the sidewalk.
Out of it comes a very short woman, with her curly hair tied back, and a very tall guy who has purple hair and an open back shirt, showing off detailed tattoo art of devils wings spanning across his shoulder blades.
The woman grabs Virtue’s hand in a very firm handshake. “Hi, I’m Gemini, the drummer. You must be Virtue, right?” She lets go of Virtue’s and and gestures to the person next to her, who is over a foot taller than her. “This is my girlfriend, Airael.”
Airael nods at Virtue. “Hey.”
Gemini moves towards Michael and starts to talk to him about some of their previous performances, while Airael looks at Virtue. He doesn’t say anything, only looking them up and down, and goes towards the microphones. He moves one to be on the left side of the garage, and the other to be over the drum set.
“Alright, we ready to play some music?” Bug stops everyone’s various talking (or staring). “Or at least get warmed up real quick?”
There’s various cheers of agreement, and Virtue watches as everyone tunes their instruments (or in Gemini’s case, vigorously banging on some drums before nodding with a pleased look). Michael strums a few chords before doing his own nod, and Airael plays a few small riffs, then stops and waits.
Bug looks at everyone, smiles with an almost nervous energy at Virtue, and nods at Michael, who double checks his speaker is indeed on. He starts to play some almost sinister feeling chords that begin to dig into Virtue’s skin, and then Bug starts to sing.
“What a big heart I have, I’ll be your savior now.” The thrum of anxious excitement hits Virtue’s heart. “What a real catch I am, all the more to pull you down.”
Airael and Michael play a few riffs as Gemini moves to the beat of her drumline, and suddenly the energy of the room changes from mild anxiety and nervousness of playing in front of Virtue alone into pure confidence and a decadent sense of the power that comes with being the main attraction.
“I’ll be the king of it, the queen of it, the god of it, all of it.” Bug looks at Virtue as the thrall of the song is channeled through him, and the sticky, syrupy feeling of desire to be a part of the oneness that the group exudes. “Eat your heart after I lick it clean, tastes of blood and grenadine.”
Virtue loses themselves to everything that the band is playing, the feeling of power, excitement, hints of nervousness and waves of joy of doing this, and they feel almost woozy when it stops. A degree of awareness returns to them, something they hadn’t even realized that they lost, and they see the four college students thrumming with energy.
“Well?” Bug asks, the same confident grin dripping off of his face. “What did you think?”
“I think.” Virtue begins, still trying to rapidly grasp onto the words to express whatever the fuck just happened to them. “That all of you have the potential to go very, very far.”
Everyone has a mini celebration. Bug spins around to face Virtue, face alight with excitement. “You really think so?!” He asks, and everyone in the band waits eagerly for the answer.
Virtue laughs. “Without a single doubt.”
As the cheers and yells of excitement fill the small garage, Virtue leans against a wall and looks at them. Yeah, they think, they’ll be just fine.
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