Re: By the pond, under the lights : open
Talk about awkward timing. Witnessing one's muse and maker, miss punk rock star of stage and screen, have what seemed to be breakdown beside the water, it was uncomfortable. Difficult and strange, really. Anything raw and exposed had a way of making him backtracking. But when the eponymous blonde wig was ripped from Hedwig's head, he felt inexplicably forced to walk forward from the shadows and into the honey aura of firefly lights. This was nothing like the bright lights of stadium stages, and maybe that's why he looked so uncomfortable.
"Should I... go?" He felt stupid for speaking up as soon as he'd actually done so, but there was no going back now. Time, even just a couple of years, had been good to him. It often was with rock gods , letting them live forever with distinguished tattoos, immortal liver enzymes, and centerfold wives. Time for Gnosis, it really only meant looking just that little bit older than the last time they'd crossed paths with paparazzi to cement the event in lawsuits and tabloid ink.
He'd started the night in a shirt, for sure, but had probably peeled out of its dark cotton on stage - it was long gone now. Gnosis was slow-simmered babyfat melted lean to the bone, a delight to ticket holders and record producers alike. His skin was streaked silver with stage paint, glitter thumbed thick in the hollows of his bone, packed heavy in places like where collarbone met neck, and where his hungry ribs stretched away from a drug binge stomach so concave. His eye makeup was streaked prom queen pitiful down both cheeks, but it didn't make him look any less famous, not with that silver face-paint cross still emblazoned on his forehead.