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@virtuoshosh
[text unsent due to no signal while Sol was out drunk at a bar] Shoshana banana fee fi fofana ty for telling me the truth im sry i had 2 unfollow all of u i just cant see anything that reminds me of her im sry
[Derek was hauling Shosh up onto a go-go dancer podium at Plasma to dance when she would have gotten this]
How a hottie like you isn't off the market, I'll never know. Does that mean there's something wrong with your personality?
"I'm going to tell you the exact same thing that I've told every other asshole who's tried to pass off negging as flirting..."
"...BYE!"
So as the leader of the band, how do you call the creatures to heel?
"Ew, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response..."
"...but I am kind of giving Band Leader Energy, right? Everyone always assumes it's Cass, but I think that's total bullsh—" [Piper frantically disconnects Shosh's Livestream AMA]
[ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― Shosh traces her fingertips over Clem's body AND/OR [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― Shosh traces a scar on Clem’s body
Fingertips ghosted skin, warm and gentle.
They were pressed together, an arm draped over Shosh's shoulder as Clem held her close, tucked into each other softly and basking in afterglow.
The scar potted at Clem's flesh, structured and succinct in their carvings. Each healed welt too gentle of an abrasion for Shosh to pull away from, tracing the feel of it beneath her touch; instead her fingertips played against the skin on Clem’s forearm, gentle melodies forming beneath them.
“I was seven. Got bit by my neighbour's dog. Mam found out and was fuming about it, obviously. Nearly beat the shit out of the guy. But I hated them for years—" Clem said absently, stroking at Sho's hair and twirling a strand absently around her finger, "still kind of do. They just make me uneasy is all. Some of 'em are alright, I know they ain't all horrible, but they still, you know..."
Shosh's brows creased. She tilted her head to look at Clem and tried to read her expression; something caught in a distant thought but small and vulnerable, similar to the one she saw in the Quidditch tents just months ago. Her eyes fixed on the small bruise cradled at the crease of Clem's neck and shoulder, dotted teeth marks puprle on olive skin.
"Oh shit, Clem," she said, shifting to sit up on her knees and hesitating to place a hand on against the bruise, "I'm sorry, I didn't know, otherwise I would've—"
Clem grasped Shosh's wrist, stopping her. "Hey," she said, titling her head to catch her eyeline, "if it was a problem, I would've said, yeah?"
"But—" Shosh tried to protest, before feeling a finger beneath her chin as it guided her to face the brunette, wide eyes meeting soft with creases at the corners.
“The lady doth protest too much,” Clem uttered, the tension at Shosh’s brows dispersing as she gave a small, shy smirk. “It’s different, trust me. And I’m gonna be real honest with you, Sho; I fuckin’ love when it comes from you.”
“Oh?”
Clem simply nodded.
“You’re into it?”
"Yeah," the Hufflepuff almost scoffed.
"Good," Shosh said firmly, taking the hand at her chin and threading their fingers together, before pressing it against the bed and climbing over Clem. "Because I'm so into you," Shosh smirked, before pressing a firm kiss to Clem's smiling mouth.
Shosh- How's Clem?
"Wait, why—have you heard something? Did they call from the—? I mean, uh...how should I know? Sorry, I gotta go..."
Maker- Tell us about each of your fledglings
"Oh, are we talking Council business, now? How dull...ugh, fine, if you insist...well, you'll know all about Sascha, of course. Such a pretty thing, aren't they? Refined, obedient...the perfect sire, one might say—though, let me tell you, they weren't always that way. A walking disaster, really, when I first found them...simply spilling over with all this delicious despair. I made Sascha into the best version of what they were always meant to be—and just look at them now! And do I ever hear a word of thanks for my efforts, my endless benevolence? Peugh...but, that's why I have my new project. She's a captivating beauty—red hair and red lips. But damaged, with a fragile mind—like a helpless, wilted rose...and oh, the things I have planned for her will be—ah, whoopsie, I've gone and said too much, haven't I? I can't have the Council knowing about her just yet..."
[The Maker leans in and compels the Council's errand vampire] "...you're going to forget we ever had this conversation, and then you're going to walk outside and stand in oncoming traffic until someone runs you over."
@robin-thevamp
Do you have any friends outside of the band?
"Okay, rude? I have, like...several friends who aren't bandmates, okay? Awesome friends! I'm a friendly person!!"
[soledadofficial:] I got it from some random DM. I don't even normally go through those I don't know why I went through some today [soledadofficial:] But is Rhett flirting back? [soledadofficial:] It's been a while we've both been so busy. That doesn't mean she can just be flirting with someone and it's okay though. I don't know how to bring this up to her though. [soledadofficial:] If she's not cheating I look crazy and controlling and jealous. If she is then what the hell am I supposed to do with that. And especially if that goes public it would be humiliating.
[shoshedelman:] I mean...ig she's not NOT flirting back... [shoshedelman:] But like what do I know! She probs just misses you - she loves you! [shoshedelman:] And, look...if the Harpies are going to be playing you as a regular next season, and Piper's booking us for an album tour and press stuff in the New Year, all our schedules are just going to get crazier. [shoshedelman:] I think you both just need to be honest with each other about what you want right now, and what you have the time and headspace for, you know?
Is she...? || Shosh & Sol
Sol: [image from Sol's insta DM of Rhett being very close to Dani]
Sol: Be honest with me. Is she cheating on me?
@virtuoshosh
[shoshedelman:] Okay so we have real actual stalkers now?? 😅 [shoshedelman:] I don't think there's anything going on there, babes, I'd tell you. Dani is super flirty with everybody, that's just how she is. [shoshedelman:] But, idk...when was the last time you and Rhett actually talked?
Favorite holiday tradition?
(Answered during the individual interviews portion of The Band Cthulhu's feature in Cantis Magazine, interviewed by Melinda Hopsworth) "Well, you know, my birthday is on the 24th of December, and I'm Jewish, and most people are pretty Christmas crazy, so the holidays are usually kind of shit—oh, sorry, can I say shit?" [Shosh glances over at Piper and Ros, who are wincing and eye-rolling, respectively] "...anyway. I used to celebrate Hanukkah with my friend Grant, but...oh, also, my old benefactor in the arts and former legal guardian used to have me playing Christmas Eve concerts each year—" [interviewer interrupts to ask a question] "—no, it was classical piano concerts. His name's Adrian Steiner. And yeah, he knew it was my birthday." [Shosh laughs] "It's fine, I'm over it. Cass knows how much I hate Christmas music, and I've spent the past couple of birthdays with him, making new traditions—" [Ros gestures insistently at Shosh] "—what? Oh! This year, our record label, Albany Music, is throwing me an exclusive birthday bash on New Year's Eve to celebrate the release of the band's new album..."
Exclusively for Cantis Magazine, we spoke with The Band Cthulhu ahead of their new winter release album, Dog Days.
The newest member of the band, Dani Royce, hails from Liverpool. But she didn't grow up with the Hogwarts education of her band mates, explaining, "You could say I was homeschooled, but even that doesn't fit. I learned by living... I got to pick what my passions are and my family encouraged me to grow them."
Indeed, Dani's passion for music had her lending her talent as a bassist to gigs across Liverpool, where The Band Cthulhu discovered her. "We first heard Dani play at an indie venue, and we absolutely knew we wanted to play with her, then and there." When we remarked that joining the band was a lucky break for the Liverpool witch, guitarist and singer Cass replied, "Honestly, we're the lucky ones that she's joined us."
We haven't been given any demos of the new album. In fact, the band are proud to share that they too, will hear the first play through of the entire album with their closest fans, at an invite-only birthday soiree for Shosh Edelman, the band's keyboard and synth player.
"The tracks are all original," Shosh answered when asked about the album's unique sound, "No covers, it's all our own work. We've been able to work with some artists that we all really admire. But it's definitely a step up from our last album."
We can't let mention of Cthulhu's debut album go by without asking about the sudden announcement of the band's 'break' earlier this year. Rumours have swirled online for months about the cause of the end of the fledgling band- but the resounding argument from fans is that sex, drugs and rock and roll was the band's downfall.
"Obviously we wish that things didn't end the way they did last time. We were all really hurt, and nothing good was coming of it by the end. But we're coming back better, and more prepared. I think the fans are going to be really impressed." Said drummer Rhett Andersen.
In preparation of the album's release, The Band Cthulhu dropped a surprise music video, hitting 1.2 million views in the first hour. For a wix band, Cthulhu's online presence has been a defining factor of their rise to fame. Band members share 'vlogs' and 'tiktoks' of their day to day, inviting fans to have personal relationships with both the band, and each member of it. Indeed, Cthulhu's utilisation of technology, unabashed advocacy for Being rights, and mobilisation of fringe outsiders as a fanbase, marks a seismic shift in the wix music industry.
-Melinda Hopsworth
virtuoshosh:
Bunny. That word plucked Shoshana’s focus like a bowstring, luxuriating as it slid all the way up the long arch of her spine, the strum of a harp. Bunny; it was too specific to be a term of endearment that was carelessly thrown at everyone.
And indeed, Shosh’s heartbeat was thumping like skittering rabbit’s feet inside of her chest as Verlie traced her skin appraisingly. She swallowed down a shudder, struggling to keep her usual poise. She felt like a child again, presented to a room full of wealthy patrons of the arts, to emissaries and aristocrats and tastemakers to be hummed over and gawked at, and told to stand up straight and never tremble and act like you belong—be a perfect porcelain doll, a novelty to be treasured and displayed and made to perform on command, instead of the nobody that she actually was. The orphaned daughter of a seamstress, the charity case, the fraud.
Shosh could almost hear Herr Steiner barking at her, Remember your manners, girl! “Thank you…” she managed to say, gracious, demure. “…but I can’t take credit for the decor—this was all Henry. He had me over for tea in his study, when he interviewed me to be Cass’ donor…he could see I was quite taken by all of the old-world decadence, and he…well, truthfully, I believe he was rather fond of having someone with a taste for things that are sumptuous and old fashioned that he could spoil, since that’s certainly never been Cass…”
A cool finger traced a path into the hollow of her throat, and Shosh felt her pulse center there, her breath coming out in a staccato. She felt flushed all over, took note of the pearls of sweat beading on the back of her neck and in her cleavage, the stale taste of wine in her mouth. Shosh was hyperaware of every shameful imperfection she possessed as she was stood before such cool elegance and courtly prowess, and she hated it; hated how uncharacteristically flustered and unprepared she was, hated knowing that Verlie would surely find her to be noticeably unexceptional, and flawed, and human.
And yet—that low drawl was near hypnotic, and despite her fixation on her own shortcomings Shosh still found herself moving at Verlie’s command, like an orchestral player awaiting the wave of her conductor’s baton. She flushed as she teetered backward and hit the unflinching wood of the piano bench with a not-entirely-unpleasant whop to the backs of her thighs. She had to squeeze her legs together again, and found the pressure did little to relieve the pulsing want that was thrumming to life at each new suggestion from Verlie.
It occurred to Shosh then that this was all likely part of the Redlocke vampire’s Hunt, toying with her the way a cat would a mouse. “Are you…making fun of me?” she asked, straining to hold onto the last wire-thin thread of her pride. She sniffed, holding up her chin. “It’s alright, if you are, I just…I’d rather know about it, if I’m intended to be a punchline amongst your undead social circle at parties. I can take it. I’m well aware that it’s in my nature to…romanticize, to get carried away with quixotic fantasy, to be somewhat…extra, you might say.”
It had happened often, since Shosh had been drawn into the secretive world of vampires and their blood donors—that her sensational and outlandish reveries gleaned from the pages of gothic fairy tales would misalign with the reality of this world. And it wasn’t that Shosh was disappointed by any of it, by any means, it’s just…she had learned not to expect that anyone, even vampires, would ever be quite as extra as she was, that all those beautiful and violent delights were best kept to fantasy, and that it was foolish to want to be wanted in such superlative terms—body and soul, down to her marrow.
It was just what Shosh needed to center herself, to remind her meandering fancy not to take anything too seriously, because that wouldn’t be cool would it?
She smiled, confidence returning to her as she tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and said with brazen cheek, “If it’s all the same to you, O Mysterious Mistress, I’d like to earn my keep—I promised to delight you with marvels of musicianship, and I intend to keep that promise. So I propose that I play you a tune, of my choice, and if what I play and how I play it is to your liking, then…you may reward me for my efforts however you see fit.” She smoothed her fingers over the glossy ivories thoughtfully, and then stilled her hands as she added belatedly, “Oh, and just so we’re clear—I consent wholeheartedly to be your willing prey, to be played with and pleasured, punished or praised—whatever you please.”
Shosh returned her focus to the keys. She drew in a breath, and held the silence for a few moments of tantalizing, teasing anticipation—the seasoned performer within her shining through. Then she threw herself into the sweeping opening chords of the very first song that came to mind—a dynamic rendition of the iconic cinematic medley, designed to steal the hearts of all the cursed and the mercurial and the stubbornly lonely.
…
Verlie giggled, “Certainly not Cass at all; my boy has always misliked the old-world decadence that comes with vampirism.” It was one of the few things that Verlie enjoyed about her time as a bejeweled Redlocke donor. The gifts were divine; she was dressed to the nines in exclusive clothing brands and rare jewelry, perfumes, and shoes. Her closet was worth a medium-sized fortune; even if Verlie was cut off by the Redlocke’s, selling her clothes would be enough to sustain her until she could make more money. Verlie had sold the pieces she disliked or were from Feeders who were less than stellar, but many she had kept, worn and cared for.
Verlie laughed as Shosh’s mouth fell open a bit, the vampire lifted her fingers from Shosh’s breastbone to trace the outline of her lips.
“You worry far too much for such a pretty creature.” Verlie hummed, “But rest assured I am not mocking you or making you the butt of my joke. I would never be so crass as to make you a punchline,” Verlie dragged her fingers down Shosh’s neck a second time, grinning as the young woman arched again into the sharp prick of her nails. “Trust me, whoever laughs at you while in my company will find their throat torn out.” The threat hung in the air and Verlie crowded closer to the trembling bunny under her hands. “I am a vicious thing. It my nature to take what I want.” Verlie stated, “But I am not cruel. I would not allow anyone to disrespect you, I would not allow anyone to treat you less than.” Verlie grinned, “That’s my job, bunny.”
The vampire stepped back, letting Shosh breath in sharply as if her lungs had been hanging off her words. The vampire smiled fondly down at Shosh and grinned wildly as she found a space beside the human pet. “Believe me, you are more than going to earn your keep as my pet,” Verlie whispered as she sat down beside Shosh, “and you will get your… rewards and punishments by my will.” Verlie traced her nails over Shosh’s leg, trailing up her thigh, and grinned at the tremble of her body.
Verlie pulled her hands back, unwilling to sully Shosh’s performance, and as the first note rang out she sighed happily.
“I love Studio Ghibli,” the vampire whispered, “I’ve been Japan for the last few years,” the truth bubbled past her lips, and slipped into the tune, she kept her voice low, “and I used to attend orchestras where they played nothing but Hisashi’s music…” Verlie sunk happily into the music, but kept her hands to herself. It washed over her. Shosh looked so sunk into the piano that Verlie wanted nothing more than to ruin that stupor, with a grin Verlie grabbed Shosh’s throat, pulling her into a demanding kiss as the mortals hands stuttered over the keys. With a flash of vampire strength she lifted Shosh and placed her on her lap.
“You are earning nothing but rewards my darling bunny,” Verlie murmured as she pulled away, “now keep on playing pet,” her fingers trailing up her neck, leaving red streaks, then down her arms, fingers twitching, “I like the way you play for me, don’t mess up now…” Shoshs fingers twitched as she missed a note, “I think for every missed key it’s gonna be… hmmm… five smacks? No, that seems a little mean,” Shosh gasped, “unless you want me to be mean? God you really are perfect for me aren’t you bunny? Now, that’s three missed notes, let’s say… nine smacks then, now I’m hoping you’ll mess up a bit more but go on, play for me, my angel of music.”
It should have frightened her—the casual allusions to shocking violence, the danger that dripped from this woman’s every word. But it didn’t. This wasn’t the same manner of objectification that Shosh had felt from nameless vampires at Caro and Plasma, who sought out beauty they could have and use and just as quickly dispose of.
No, the type of possessiveness that Verlie suggested was—God, it was intoxicating. It was the type of ownership that was all-consuming, that permeated into every artery and nerve-ending until it was everything. That forbidden something she’d never been allowed to have.
And Shosh had always desired those things that were dark and forbidden.
She began to play, and it was a performance worthy of such a patron. Shosh couldn't help but grin in charmed surprise as Verlie noted her fondness for Studio Ghibli. “Really?” she said, transitioning into a bouncier, upbeat section of the song that mirrored her delight. And perhaps it broke the sultry illusion, just a bit—but for Shosh, finding a connection in the type of music that had been her entire world for all her life only endeared her to the vampire. “I played with some symphony orchestras in Japan, years ago…my former benefactor and legal guardian was Adrian Steiner—he always preferred that I stick to the classics, Liszt and Chopin and Schumann, but…I can’t help it, I love the fantasy and the romance of something like—”
Her reverie was halted as she was pulled into a searing, mind-frazzling kiss that had Shosh moaning a sumptuous chord of her own into Verlie’s mouth as her fingers slipped from the keys. It sucked up all the breath from her lungs and she panted with want as the vampire pulled away, and Shosh found herself suddenly situated in the other’s lap. Shosh had no idea how she was meant to string any coherent thoughts together after that, let alone music, but Verlie guided her wrists back to the keys and Shosh just played. She had always been a performer who let her passions inform her art and guide her intuition when it came to music, but this was something different; her fingers were moving on the ivories as if detached from Shosh’s body, which was a live wire of vibrating sensation of an entirely different sort. She whined at each sinful utterance from Verlie, the ghosting of breath against the over-heated skin of her throat, the moisture she could already feel pooling between her slightly parted thighs. It took honest-to-God every ounce of concentration that Shoshana had within her to keep still and keep playing, and not grind down against the leg that was oh-so conveniently wedged between her own, to relieve the pulsing ache that was growing more insistent at a frankly embarrassing rate, considering she wasn't even fucking being touched, really.
She skipped a few of the composition’s sections in the middle just to get to the end faster, thinking she might vibrate out of her own skin if Verlie kept this up much longer. She finished with a hasty flourish, and then wasted not one moment before spinning where she sat to straddle the vampire and kiss her fully, properly, pushing up onto her knees to kiss Verlie with a frenzy that Shosh hadn't felt before from someone she’d only just met. She felt Verlie’s tongue against her lips, felt her nails against the backs of her thighs and it made Shosh shiver, made goosebumps break out across her skin.
With a shuddering breath, she pulled away from the other’s mouth and forced herself to stand on shaky legs. Without allowing herself to doubt or overthink what she was doing, Shosh calmly walked around to the other side of the bench, shoulders back, feeling Verlie’s molten crimson gaze tracking her every step. She felt a matching, deep red blush wash over her face and down her chest at what she was about to do, but she didn’t hesitate in hiking up the hem of her short pleated skirt until it was bunched around her waist, then she bent forward and placed her hands flat on the empty seat of the piano bench next to where Verlie sat. She glanced over at the vampire, her eyes hooded, her spine lightly arched and her hair hanging down in a dark glossy sheet over one shoulder. Coyly, Shosh said, “I believe nine smacks was your final verdict?”
“You can talk to her, she’ll get it, honest. She might even be able to help with the bloodlust stuff, give you tips,” He said, earnestly, “Her whole family are donors. Like, most of the blood that’s at events, maybe half of the registered donors in Europe, they’re all Redlockes. Father even had one of them, when he was younger-”
Something caught in his throat, and he swallowed it down, determined to stay present for his friend. So when Shosh continued, mentioning that Verlie had seen her play as a child, he responded with gusto-
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Cass admitted, “The vampires she donated to used to cart her all around the world. She loved it, used to come back raving about her travels and jewels and gold and whatever. I think it sorta stung when I left for Hogwarts, so she got her piece back by triapsing all over the globe.”
Cass frowned, only managing to mouth a silent ‘what the fuck’ through Shosh’s explanation for Clem’s whereabouts. Frankly, when Shosh said that something had happened in the Den, his imagination had gone somewhere else entirely. Knowing Clem had nearly fucking died made him feel bad about it, he would have blushed if he could.
The vampire swallowed, turning to face her. “I think… I think just because something horrible happened to her, it doesn’t change what happened,” Certainly, it was hard for Cass to think or speak positively about Clem, who’d never had a kind word for him. Clem was scrappy, and messy, and aloof, all things that he’d never associate with Shosh. But he was working on being supportive, so he added, “But I’m glad she’s okay, y'know? Unless you want to get back with her, maybe it’s just about waiting for her to reach out. She’s making it pretty clear what she wants, and I don’t think that makes her a dick. I don’t think it makes you a dick, either.”
He sighed, cocking his head, “Do you wanna stay tonight? Can’t promise Greggs and hot chocolate in the morning anymore. But if you want to stay, you can.” He smiled, shrugging.
Shosh slunk even lower into her seat, chewing on her lip as the irritating and unfamiliar sensation of insecurity settled over her. Shoshana had always prided herself on being self-assured—over-confident, some would probably say. But with Verlie she often felt out of her depth—like she could easily make a misstep, and wind up looking incredibly stupid.
Half the registered donors in Europe? God, and Shosh had needed to memorize everything she knew about donor etiquette on homemade fucking flashcards. She found herself suddenly second-guessing this whole idea of prolonging her first time being truly fed from—her romantic fantasy of wanting it to be special. How could it be, with all the glamorous experiences Verlie had already had? Surely whatever Shosh had to offer, in comparison, would be a letdown.
Her blood would likely be a letdown.
She sighed, right back to being a nobody orphan Muggleborn with no family name and no pedigree, just like her first year at Hogwarts.
It was enough to distract her through Cass’ reassurances about what had happened with Clem. Shosh pulled her blanket-covered knees up to her chest and hugged them, resting her cheek on the feather-down fabric and peering back at Cass, blinking her long lashes in his direction. He really was a good friend—her best friend, despite all of it. Shosh wouldn't have traded the last year for anything—even the bad parts, the ones that made her heart squeeze up inside her chest.
“You’re right…” she said—and he was. The whole thing with Clem had probably just been a fluke—another one of Shosh’s near-brushes with death to add to that never-ending list. No rhyme or reason or grand design to it; just the way it had always been, in the curious life of Shoshana Edelman.
She smiled lightly before her affection morphed into an expression more wry and teasing. She reached out and poked Cass in his bony ribs. “…and obviously I’m staying over, you twat—and you’re also staying right here, with me, since it’s on your account I didn’t invite a different, sexy vampire to share my bed tonight…” She gathered up her heavy mane of hair into one hand, wrapping it around her fist thoughtfully. Then she said, apropos of nothing, “You think Sascha would murder me if I cut my hair?”
[ end ]
Cass tucked his head on Shosh’s shoulder, glad to have her close. He hummed, “We’re okay.” He replied breezily.
The other question took more to consider. Cass didn’t know if he would ever really, truly, be in a place where he’d consider himself ‘okay’. Not with everything that had happened, and not with the way his mind seemed to favour depression to the point where it seemed a comfort.
“And me… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” He admitted, shifting where he sat so that he was facing her. He pursed his lips, then lifted the edges, an 'it is what it is’ kind of smile. “But I see my therapist, like once a week, and I’ve got Derek, and the band’s back together. And as much as I wish it was literally anyone else- it’s good to see you with Verlie. Donating is kind of like… Your thing, you know. It’s weird picturing you not doing it.”
He cocked his head, “Verlie can probably relate, actually. She was a donor for ages before she was turned. Dad said her family nearly started an all-out war in the Council when it happened. I’m sure she’s told you all about it.” Cass waved his hand dismissively.
“But anyway. Are you okay?”
Shosh nodded quietly, accepting the sparse words that Cass offered her without probing him for more than he was willing to give, as she was so often tempted to do. Though the mention of Verlie so soon after their date had her wrinkling up her nose and squirming deeper into the cushions, lips quirked up into a coy smile and butterflies fluttering in her belly. A rosy hue crept over her cheeks as she admitted, “She…she hasn’t, yet, you know—fed from me, I mean…” Shosh rubbed her neck sheepishly, her fingers skimming absently over where her pulse point was warm and flushed beneath her touch. She laughed at how much she was behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush. “…I must be driving her mad, honestly, making her wait—which probably sounds totally crazy and pointless, to you, I just…I dunno, I—I don’t wanna rush into anything, get in over my head with all the blood lust stuff, again, before I’m ready…you know?”
But what Cass said about Verlie’s past as a donor struck through her gooey gushing, giving Shosh pause. A crease of sympathy formed between her brows. “No, she—she hasn’t, actually…she doesn’t really talk much, about her life before she was Turned…” And though Shoshana was dreadfully, painfully curious about all things when it came to Verlie Redlocke, she figured it wasn't something to pry about. “…though, she did tell me she saw me play a concert, once—when Herr Steiner had me touring Europe as a prodigy.”
And then came another question for which Shosh didn’t have a ready answer. She leaned back, tucking deeper into the blankets, tugging her fingers through the tangled waves at the ends of her long hair in thought. It was a few minutes before Shosh spoke again, and when she did, she kept her eyes trained on the curve of her knee poking up beneath the duvet, swallowing through the lump that had formed in her throat. “Something…happened, with Clem, a few weeks ago…in the Den of Magic…” Shosh was somewhat surprised, actually, that Dani hadn't mentioned the traumatic ordeal to anyone else in the band—though Shosh knew she hadn’t, or Cass would have asked her about it before now.
She took a breath, not knowing where to begin. And then, like a faucet that had sprung a leak, the whole story began pouring out of her in a frantic, rambling mess. “…I was at Plasma, right? And it was late, and I realized I’d left the keys to my flat at the studio, so I went back to get them, and Clem was just—there, all broody and her like, loitering near the studio, but then—then I realized she was covered in all these gashes and basically bleeding out and she said she’d been in Costa Rica, of all places, and she was mauled by a jungle cat, or something, and I—I was panicking, she was losing like, a lot of blood...and I called Dani to help me get her to that clinic in the Den and—and—” She didn’t realize she’d been on the verge of tears until the memory pulled a choking sort of cry from within her, and Shosh buried her face in her hands for a moment, allowing the emotions to leak out before wiping them away with her knuckles. She sniffled, at last looking up to meet Cass’ startled expression. “I’m sorry, I—I don't know why I brought any of that up, it’s just…she was really hurt, Cass, like—scary hurt, and…they made me leave her there, and I’ve been calling and asking after her, and they told me she’s—stable, but…she either hasn't woken up, or she has and she doesn’t have—the fucking balls to call me and tell me she’s like, alive after showing up like that and nearly fucking dying right in front of me—!”
She made herself stop to take another deep breath, shaking her head at her own ridiculous anger. She flopped back and said dramatically, “God, I’m such a dick—imagine, being angry with someone in hospital, fighting for their life, for not, like—calling me back, ugh…” Shosh groaned, folding her arms over her forehead in a very pathetic and self-pitying way that she was pretty sure only Cass would understand or tolerate. “And it’s like—just when there was the slightest chance that I might be able to actually move on…?"
@clem-priddy
Cass scratched the quill in circles around his palm as he listened to Shosh tinker with his song. He had written it with the keyboard in mind, all synth sounds, but he’d never be able to be as creative with it as Shosh could. Cass nodded along to the song, giving a hum. He shrugged at her feedback, “I’m sure it’ll sound better with synth. I thought Eric might have some clips we could shove in there, too. Make it feel… Otherworldly.”
He pulled a face when Shosh suggested he sing. It was generally accepted among the band that while Cass was a decent singer, Shosh was better. Dani shit all over him easily. Rhett was even a better fucking singer than him, and she occasionally farted into the microphone when no one was paying enough attention to her. Cass was the better writer of the group, though, and he tended to be better at multitasking, so took on most of the lead vocals. He shrugged again, “Sure, if you want.”
Cass didn’t need the sheet music, he’d done a deep dive when he wrote the song and committed it to memory. So he didn’t go to sit with her, but he did lean back in the lounge he was under, moving the weighted blanket so it wasn’t as heavy on his abdomen. Shosh took this as a sign to start, and he reminded himself to breathe before he sang.
“My boyfriend wants to love me, but I won’t let him. I’ve been predisposed to trauma since I was eleven, so I wrote a couple songs to let out some aggression. I hate that I’m so self depricating, more comfortable in bad situations…”
He tried not to focus on the content of the song too much, instead watching Shosh as she played, following her cue for subtle changes. He could not, would not, did not, think about what he was singing about- because it was a sad song, and he was trying to do better about not trauma dumping on his friends, even with music.
He pursed his lips as the song finished, and then let out an exhale, “This is a pretty fucking depressing song to be playing on Christmas.” Cass said, tone flat. He met Shosh’s gaze from across the piano, then cracked a grin, before wrinkling his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles.
Hearing the lyrics sung so earnestly, so unflinchingly in Cass’ raw voice, free from the frills of performance in the privacy of Shosh’s room, made Shosh’s heart throb in her chest for her best friend. What she wanted to do was spring across the room and hug him so tightly that it squeezed all the weary edges of pain from his voice.
But instead Shosh let Cass get the words out, pouring out all her fiery protective Gryffindor feelings into the way she molded the musical accompaniment of the song until it was a living, breathing thing—beautiful and fully realized in its own right.
Her hands hovered over the keys of the song’s final chord as the sound faded, the melody lingering in her ears. She held her breath, not wanting to disrupt the fragile moment—until Cass pointed out what she was thinking, and she couldn’t prevent herself from snorting out a laugh in agreement. Gently, with a conclusive air, Shosh slid the wooden cover over the piano keys closed, before swiveling on the bench and proclaiming, “You can't even begin to comprehend ‘depressing,’ my half-dead darling, until you’ve played back-to-back evenings and one Christmas Day matinee of Tchaikovsky.”
Having long since changed out of her formal evening attire into a soft wine-colored cashmere sweater and long cable knit socks, Shosh wormed her way in right next to Cass and curled up close. “Thanks for having me over on my birthday, again…” she said, all simple affection that was free of any teasing.
And after a moment, she asked with characteristic upfrontness, “Cass…are you okay? Are we okay?”
