[Flower Child] Rhapsody (open~)

[melody28]

The crowd at the bar was no surprise.

They knew what they wanted to see.

A star.

Not the same typical old rundown, humdrum faces they saw everyday,

but a shining and brilliant star, magnanimous in sharing her radiance with the common folk.


She needed no mic-check. Just the cue, which came as a simple nod from the bartender.

A voice shot out from the darkness on stage.
"Is this the real liiiiiiiiiiife?~ ... Is this just fantasy-eeee?~ ... Caught in a landsliiiiiiiiide~ ... No escape from reality ..."
A spotlight illuminated the green haired vixen of a stitchette, and she extended a graceful hand to the audience as she continued.
"Open your eyyyyyyes,~ look up to the skies and SEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee~"
After raising the hand to the heavens, she clenches it into a fist and holds it against her chest. Her high pitched, yet crystal clear and smooth as a river voice reverberated throughout the building.
"Oh! I'm just a poor girl~ I need no sympathy 'Cause it's easy come, easy go~ Little high, liiiitle lowww~"
During the easy come/go, little high/low part, the silk and polyester skinned anima threw in a little dance step with her free hand. It flailed to and fro, horizontally during the come/go part, then went high and threw down low during the next part. As she continued the next line, she shot out a feigned alluring expression towards the male spectators.
"Hit me where the wind blowwwws!~ Doesn't really maaaaaatterrrrr to meeeeeeeeeeeeee~ Tooooo meeeeeee~"
Then the girl spun to face her back towards the crowd, revealing what her left hand was holding. It was a painted piece of wood in the shape of a typical human's handgun. What could also be seen the green numbers embroidered on the back of the hand, "28."
"Papaaaaaaaaaaa just killed a maaaaaaaan~"
28 raised the prop firearm, pointing it at the ceiling, before shooting about to point the barrel and her optics back at the crowd, aiming for one male stitchpunk in particular.
"Put a gun against his head~ pulled the trigger, now he's deaaaa-heeehd~"
She feigns a sharp jolting motion with the prop as if to actually discharge the "weapon." Then during the next line, she aims her gaze to the heavens, and lifts both hands towards there as well.
"Papaaaaaaaaaaaa~ Life had juuuust beguuuunnnnnn~ But now I've gone and thrown it aaall awaayyyyyyyyyyyyy~"
She then throws the prop, high towards the crowd and a few ragdolls got up to fuss over who got it.
"Papaaaaaaaaaa~ OooOOOoooooooooo~ Didn't meeeean to make you cryyyyyy!~ If Im not back agaaaain this time tomorrooowww,~ Carry onnn~ Carry onnnnnnnnn!~"
With both hands now free, they both motioned a push in a forward, and upward direction to stage-left. Then she walked down the center steps laid just in front of the stage, and stopped short before walking within "breathing" distance of the audience. Her head momentarily fell low, and forlorn.
"'Cause nothing reeeeealy matterrrrrs~"

[Shel]

Shel stood alone in the crowd, leaning against the side of the pipe. He wasn't sure exactly why he was here. Sometimes when he began a set of memories there would be a feeling, like a certain kind of setting was needed before he could enter the story. The dead child he and Endremit had dug up had wanted company, lots of it. So here he was, as close to a crowd as he was comfortable, maybe closer. He stood a full inch taller at least then most of the dolls here, but this was one place he knew he wouldn't be watched. He hated being watched. It made him feel as though he had done something wrong, which of course he had, many times.
He wondered for a moment if anyone had ever really cared about him short of wanting him dead.

He tilted his wide-brimmed hat low over his face, covering his eyes, and extended his mind into the chip. The child had been a child, a button, a racketeer. A prostitute. Gods that was fucked up, of all the dead he could dig up he had just happened to find the one with the most honest to god creepy memories possible. The memories wound their way through her life, one she thought was decent because she didn't know any better. There had been one almost mother figure in the child's life, and that was the closest she had ever had to family. She had been killed by a skullbeast, an unimaginative death. He watched through her eyes flailing and terror, and then there was singing filtering through his consciousness from somewhere outside the memory.

He let go of the memory, disconnecting it from his system, shaken, and shifted his gaze to the female at the front who had torn him away from the memory just before the moment of death. Her hair was a couple shades brighter then his own, and she was dressed as if she had a place to go home to, and not just a place to cling to in hopes that it was better then nothing. She reminded him of a button he had known once, not the one from the memory. She wasn't the same child though. The child would never be here. She would be with her family, a family that loved her. Even so, he couldn't take his optics away from her. So he watched her through mirrored optics, and for a moment was simply part of the crowd.

It was a pretty song, he liked it. It was also the kind that had an uncanny way of seeming like it was somehow describing real life. It was noticing this odd almost parallel that brought him out of his trance. He suddenly wanted to leave, and he looked away from the stage. But did he really? What would he do when he left?
Watch a child die. What kind of an alternative was that? He shifted his optics back to the singer.

She still looked like an older version of the child, however much her voice said she wasn't. He broke free of the wall and moved toward the stage, hoping to catch her when she finished and came down. She wasn't the child, but it was better to speak with her then to watch the button from the graveyard die.

[melody28]

28 played at looking from side to side behind her, before shooting back a semi-indignantly callus expression towards the crowd. Her eyes slowly focused on the one she pointed at before after noticing him move off from the wall towards her. Meanwhile the song continued to flow from her open mouth.
"Too laaaaaaate~ My time has commmme~ ... Sends shivers down my spiiiine, body's aching all the tiiiiiiiime~"
As she continued, 28 began casually walking passed the patrons here and there until she reached the one who ended up with the fake gun. "Good bye, everybody~"
Her hand swiped the prop from the surprised and now embarrassed (as well as slightly confused) stichpunk, and she pointed it at her head!
"I've got to goooooooo~"
28 then acts as if she's trying to muster the courage to "pull the trigger," closing her eyes. But instead, she just hands the prop off to the gentlestitch at an adjacent table and dashes for the exit. (the edge of her hand brushes ever so slightly against Shel's arm as she passes by him) "Gotta leave you all behind and faaaaaace the truuuuuuuuth~"
As she gets to the door, 28 stops to spin back towards the audience with both hands bracing the door frame.
"Papaaaaa-OooOOoooooooooooo~ I don't want to diiie!~"
While singing the "I don't want to die" part, 28's look becomes sincere before the next line where her eyes narrow and her tone becomes harsh and forced as she then dashed for the bar.
"Sometimes I wish I've never been born at alllllllllll-!!~" she belted as she then tapped on the sleepy one's shoulder. The man looked shocked and nervously got up from the bar stool, rubbing the back of his neck. 28 continued doing scales with just her voice as she sat and swayed a little on top the stool. As she gave an ending cue, the bartender quickly passed over the bar a stitchpunk style stringed instrument of some sort. It was a hunk of wood and metal with three strings tightened with adjustable pins for tuning. 28 removed the mitten like covering flap on her hands, exposing her delicately skilled nickle fingers. The right hand put pressure on alternative strings while the other hand strummed each string individually to produce a sharp musical tone carrying on a melody of scales going along with the song. The first instrumental interlude ended with a couple sets of interrupted chords. The quick moving hands brought the instrument up and around as 28 faced again to the audience.
"I see a little silhouetto of a girl~"
The stitchpunk guitar sounded out again, high, low, high, then low, then into a dropping scale to finish with a chord. "Thunderbolt and lightning!~ Very very frightening meeeeeee~"
Yet again, the sharp tones rung out effortlessly it seemed. Then she belted the next line in accompaniment with the guitar.
"Magnificoooooooooooooooo!~"
The music sounded like a "No, no, no, no, NO!" from the instrument in harsh din like chords.
"Oh!~ Mama mia, mama mia!~ Papa, let me go~ Beelzebub has a devil put aside for meeee-for meeeeeeee-for MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!~ "
The last "me" she belted out could faintly be heard above ground it was so loud. 28 held the high note for a good four seconds before falling silent. She looked from side to side again, before tossing the instrument at the bartender (who nearly dropped, and sent a coarse leer the performer's way after managing to save it). The girl made another dash, passed Shel, then stopped between him and the stage. Turing to the stranger, 28 then continued singing in a slight harsh tone this time as if she were singing conversation towards Shel.
"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eyyyyyyyyyyyyyee!?~"
Her focus quickly turned from him, and panned around the room for the next line.
"So you think you can love me and leave me to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieee!?~"
Then 28 honed in on another stranger, opposite from Shel, as if addressing this one personally now.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, babyyeh-heyyyy!!~ Can't do this to me babyyyyy!~"
The girl's quick feet brought her back up on stage in a single leap, and 28 stood right at the edge.
"Gotta get ouuuuuuut!~ Just gotta get right outa heeeeeeeeeeeerrrre!~"
She walked around in a medium circle on the stage until an inch from where she started, and with her back to the audience. Reaching the next line, she held a soft tone for the ending.
"Nothing really matters~ Anyone can seeeeeeeeee~" sang 28, lowering her head in feigned sadness once more before slowly turning a side glance to the adoring fans. Her upper eyelids were half closed over her optics, yet there was a light smile on her lips. "Nothing really matteeeerrrrrs~" continued the singer with a soft shake of her head.
"Nothing really matters... tooo meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~"
As the final word was sung and held on the last note, 28 backed away as the lights went dim. Before disappearing into the black from which she first came, 28 gave Shel an intent look and a point of her finger stage right, and off toward the dressing rooms. As the light applause and hoots and cheering could be heard, that was the area she quickly went to and waited patiently for the stranger to meet there... as the girl looked at herself in a mirror shard on her wall (that was normal size for stitchpunk use). A calm, confident, nonchalant grin was on 28's face as she stared at the reflection of her face.

[Shel]

He had been noticed.

At first he had thought it was coincidence when she had brushed against him, but she kept on giving him subtle cues, and then the not-so-subtle one at the end came around and he was pretty damn sure she had somehow picked up on his desire to speak with her. How this had been accomplished he had no idea, but so long as the intended ends were acheived, it didn't matter too much.

He waited for the applause to die down and the many optics in the room to return to their tables and whatever companions they might be sitting with. He scanned the room to make sure nobody was watching him, and was gratified to find that whatever she had picked up on, it had evidently not been obvious to everyone. There was an apparently male doll watching him, but the dazed expression and the small magnet Shel spied in his hand seemed to be indicators that he would not be remembered.

He slowly made his way around the back of the room, attempting to look casual and blend in. For a moment it crossed his mind to wonder why he was thinking like a criminal in the one place that he was actually accepted, but he pushed the thought away. He had been a criminal for a long time, and old habits die hard. Light footsteps carried him to the other side of the room, to a break in the piping and the tunnel that lead to the smaller adjoining pipe that had been made into something of a ready room for whatever actors or in this case singers might appear before the masses.

He found his quarry without much effort, green and black was not as common a color scheme as one might think. "Hello," he said with an elaborate bow. "I hope I did not take too long in arriving?"

[melody28]

"You're lucky," she said simply, in a whimsically chastising tone. She noticed the bow out of the corner of her optics, thinking it rather sweet. Other than that, she gave no sign of turning full attention towards Shel at first as she continued. "that you hadn't distracted me enough to skip a line out there. Had that happened I would've had your head."
There was an intent ferocity and angst given in the emphasis on the word head, but it was just a play. After a more relaxed breath, she then finally turned her face to the stranger.
"Alright then~ So, what peeked your interest in speaking with me so much to approach me during a performance? Like what you hear?" she asked in an innocently airy tone of inquiry. "Or what you see?" she then added in a flat, and disgusted voice. Melody then left the stranger to answer the question while she got up and walked to the other wall where a pale green night-gown like piece of clothing hung.

[Shel]

He let her first set of comments lie, nodding apologetically. He had not intended to interfere with her song, only to inform her that this meeting should take place. He hoped she wasn't angry particularly. Her face shouldn't be one to display anger, so he would do his best not to make her mad.

His optics followed her in her mirror as she crossed the room. She did not remind him of the child quite so much anymore, her mannerisms were far more harsh. From the back, her face was invisible, and it occurred to him that had he not originally seen her face, he would have had a hard time associating her with the girl.

"I approached you because of your face. No, not like that, it's just that you look like a person I knew once. It caught me off guard." He played at the loose wires on his hands, letting a smile play across his face. "Brilliant singer too, but that wasn't the question you asked."

[melody28]

A smouldering pair of eyes met with Shel's as he stated it was Melody's face that interested him, yet relaxed nearly as quickly when Shel elaborated on her resemblance to... whoever it was he was talking about. She finished putting on the robe like nightgown just as the stranger added in a pleasant compliment to her vocals. Melody's lips curled and her optics, half closed, turned to send him a flirtatiously appreciative eye coupled with a light chuckle.
"Well, I hope she had a good voice, too, whoever it is I remind you of. She must have meant a good deal to you to feel so compelled to talk to someone who remotely looks like her," she said in a forced sort of way, yet successful enough to sound sincere. Something made Melody a little uncomfortable around Shel, yet as he gave her a compliment he didn't seem deserving of her wrath. Feeling a sudden weight come over her, Melody then made her way back to the desk beside the mirror. There was a dark green ribbon that she picked up. It was her special ribbon she wore every night for a while before laying in bed... with a secret pocket containing a small, subsequently weak magnet, still strong enough for a good buzz. Melody paused before strapping it around her head.
"Did I catch your name anywhere?" she said, avoiding a more tactfully direct way of asking such.

[Shel]

((OOC: I am really sorry for taking so ridiculously long with replying. Life got kinda hectic, and well... Yeah, sorry.))

"She... was too young when I knew her to sing like those with training do, just a little button. She was very important to me..." He trailed off, optics continuing to follow the singer in the mirror.

Girls and green. What was it with that combo? Okay, maybe just people and green. Can't forget about your own appearance with a mirror staring you in the face. And he couldn't really say ribbons were a girl thing either. Why was it that he didn't associate his own appearance with himself? Somehow he figured he should look a little more disheveled and torn up. He turned his face away from the mirror shard and back to the conversation.

"Well, I hope you haven't caught my name anywhere, that would mean people had stopped ignoring me!" He grinned, but it faded quickly. "I'm Shel. Ex-memory thief, something of an addict. That sounded weird, didn't it. Shoot." He pressed the brim of his hat into his face. Idiot, you don't SAY stuff like that. She should already know anyways. Why should she? Oh gods, I'm so messed up. He let his hands drop to his sides again. "Sorry, I'm something of an enormous screwup. Feel free to throw me off the nearest cliff." He cringed inwardly. He was doing this badly. Really really badly.

[melody28]

(('tis fine. I understand.))

She turned as Shel introduced himself. Melody was actually hoping he would say more about this button and what became of her. Then Shel admitted to being an addict, making herself feel very self conscious. The singer's optics pointed almost nervously at the ribbon in her hand.
"Well, no one's per-" then the word "screwup" came out of Shel's mouth. "...-fect."
An uncomfortable look came on Melody's face as she dropped the ribbon (almost disgustedly) and stared at herself, "eye to eye" in the mirror. Screwups aren't good to be around. They screw things things up. They're bad. They should all be swept away from the presence of a star like herself...

Melody almost had a mind to call for her guard, but she controlled herself. Having someone, even a screwup, be roughed up out of the blue would be bad for her image. She simply turned to the acquaintance, "turning her nose up" towards Shel.
"Well it has been nice chatting with you, Mr. Shel. I appreciate you coming to see my show. Come to the next one in a few days, if you can. In the mean time, I need to rest my voice."
An afterthought then softened her expression some, and the green haired stitchpunk then approached Shel. "I would like to hear more about this person I look like some time. Maybe you could keep me updated?"

[Shel]

Shoot. He'd screwed something up again. Or maybe still. She looked uncomfortable, and that wasn't his intent, not at all, but he supposed that actually telling people what he did was going to lead to them not liking him very much. Maybe he should stop telling them. Or invent an identity. Or stop being around to ask in the first place.

He took a small step back, then another, then another. "Thank you for your time," he said hurriedly, just a little louder then he'd intended. He turned and took quick, longer strides. He stopped in the entrance-way, hesitating for a moment. "I'll send you a letter with some information in a couple days. If you want me for anything," he couldn't imagine why she would, "I tend to live at the north end of the graveyard. Feel free to send me a message." And with that he exited into the larger area that was the main area of the bar.

He didn't stop walking until he was outside the place, and the hum of voices inside was a quiet background noise. It was then that he leaned back against the side of the pipe and let himself slump down on the wood plank that separated him from the running water of the main pipes. He tested his voice, and found it rough from lack of practice, letting a single line of song fall. "In searching for acceptance they have given it away," his voice, already uneven, shuddered. "Only the children of their children know the price they had to pay..."