. (figmentations) wrote in repose, @ 2020-07-12 20:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | *log, *narrative, fable white, heath fairchild |
Narrative.
Who: Fable White with mentions of Erik and Adam.
What: Her first time singing at Carfax Abbey. It's a narrative, but people can react if they wish to! So open to responses!
When: Last night.
Warnings: Not really!
Fable was at the center of the stage: small, slender, in simple black and gold given to her as a gift for her opening night. The lights from above were dim, highlighting the whimsical make up that spattered her eyes, the false flatback pearls shimmered. No one was truly paying attention to the tiny woman stepping up barefoot because she hid her shoes behind the curtain. No one saw how her toes in their chipped lavender paint curled nervously against the hardwood beneath their soles. Furl, unfurl, furl, unfurl. No, they were packed tight in dark reds that echoed off the surfaces of the curtains, the cushions, the carpets framed in black. Black and scarlet, scarlet and black. She stepped forward to grip the microphone stand. The musicians behind her were hidden in the shadows, beards, long hair and the scent of rolled cigarettes that permeated their skin and hollow eyes. Fable's mouth opened and that's when magic spilled out. She closed her multicolored lids, the melody released sweet hauntings from her lungs and instruments bathed her in sound. For a moment the room stopped, their eyes which had been on lovers and prey, on blood, dance, sex and drink stopped. Stopped, caught by song and they fell on her though she didn't see them, even as they stepped closer. Lips lifted from skin, teeth from flesh, bodies from heat. They stopped. They stopped and listened to the Dream on the stage bathed in pale halos. Fable sang. She sang and the notes went higher, never wavering even as fingers lifted from the stand to hover near the mic, like a spell. She didn't see tall, blonde Erik smirking at the crowd as he slipped out the back, she didn't see the approving curl of Adam's smile, how his deep set eyes drew to a satisfied close. No, she just let the melody slip through her veins thicker than blood. Beats matched a heart that wasn't real, even so it was in her chest and it pounded, it thrummed, it hummed. Something not made from this world was so close she could feel it on her tongue along with every note. She couldn't look for Heath, or Harlow, or any other face that passed through her mind. She was alone. In the dark. In the red. In the song. Bodies drew closer to the stage. Was it the heat from them? Though some were undead. Some were corpse cold. Was it the lights from above? Warm. "I am running with the--" Stop. It ended. Voices. Music. A song done, a moment gone as quick as a waking dream. Lashes blinked open blue among pastels. Shadows looked back at her and their hands thrummed into applause. Fable smiled. |