Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2013 18:15:52 GMT -5
Wicked & Divine
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: B8B8B8; border: #550505 solid 4px; width: 400px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] Energy was building out in the parlour; giggles, cheers, raucous laughter, clinking of glasses, the wafting aroma of pies and pasties. No one in the band had thought Florean’s old ice cream parlour to be packed from wall to wall with witches and wizards of all ages, but here they sat, drinking, eating and socializing to their hearts’ content, and waiting for the highlight of the night: The Weird Sisters’ final show in Diagon Alley for their winter tour. Lead singer and frontman Myron Wagtail had taken a sabbatical of sorts, so the band had ‘rented’ out Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour for the week, to test the waters with their stand in lead singer. Each day had drawn in more and more fans as the band got a feel for the audience, and fine tuned what songs they showcased. The Sisters were, of course, very popular on the music scene, and had been for years, but always preferred smaller venues to really connect with the audience. Their new singer shared their sentiment, and was a surprisingly good fit, even if a little overly charismatic and arrogant. Augurey they started calling him, a nickname he hadn’t heard for years; the Irish Phoenix, partly for being Irish, and partly for his affinity for singing more melancholy, existential melodies offstage. He sometimes threw a few of them into the act, winding down from a fiery start, to those more somber tunes, then seemingly rebirthing with even more fired up rock anthems. The name was fitting. Tonight was no night for sad melodies, however. Energy was high on their final night, and William O’Neill was backstage reveling in it. Music was his passion, and here he was in his element. Will considered voice the most magical musical instrument, as it came solely from within, and needed nothing created by hands to produce and wield. He could see how others like guitars and harps were like wands; meant to channel the skill and talent, so respected them, but cherished voice above all else. Ironically, it was from his muggle mother, his father told him once, that he got his gift for music, but he wouldn’t think about that now. This was his time, and little else mattered. Here he stood, ready to once again combine his two great loves, music and influence, and better way to have done that than by joining the most famous band in Europe? At the center of attention, reaching across physical space with merely sounds to connect with others on an almost spiritual level was where Will as invincible. He was safe, up high, and immune to all thoughts of a stormy past, regrets, horrors he had witnessed as a Death Eater, and reservations about the horrors he would see, with the tasks given to him. His companions gathered round to go over the set list once more. All high energy tonight, starting with one of Will’s recommendations from the band Kamelot, a group of clever crossovers to the muggle world, then moving into a mix of more contemporary melodies, including some of their own, like the absurd yet popular “Do the Hippogriff.”He could hardly keep a straight face singing that one, but soldiered on, as the group and fans both loved it. A glass of wine, shot of firewhiskey all around, and a grasping of arms and repeat of their silly mantra “when the going gets Weird, the Weird turn pro,” and one by one they slipped out on stage, with Will hanging back for an extra shot of firewhiskey. He hated the stuff, but it did wonders for his throat. The overture for Ghost Opera was cranking up, and he made his way out as well, pausing for one last private thought before throwing himself out to the mercy of the music: Carrera. words; 638 tag; Carra note; Rawr, and stuff! template made by missickle |