I feel it in my blood, in the fire and the flood

[bragnificent]

WHO: BAPHOMET, HIS ENTOURAGE (REGGIE MANTLE & NICO MINORU), and YOU.
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, in the woods.
WHEN: June 21st
WHAT: Baphomet's concert debut!
WARNINGS: Possible drinking, drug use, fire hazards, and/or Wicked + the Divine spoilers; anything else, please mark your threads as necessary!




Although promoted across all four cities -- mostly via ominous posters and graffiti displaying a simple symbol and the date, June 21st -- directions to the concert are a little more obscure to come by, although those who want to find it will find their way. Part of it is via word-of-mouth, yes, but there's also a sort of... strange draw in the air, one that will just instinctively guide those who truly belong at the show, or are at least open to hearing it.

But however they find their way, it becomes much more obvious the closer you get. Reach a particular Maurtia Falls forest and one might start to notice that same symbol painted on some of the trees and nearby power poles, accompanied by arrows guiding attendees deeper into the woods.


The destination itself is obvious once you arrive to it: a large clearing in the woods, illuminated by a number of eerie floating red and gold lanterns and (what would appear to be) faerie lights. There is fog and, somehow, a cloak of dusk surrounding the area even before the sun really begins to set, and the ground is dark and illuminated by cuts of flame as if there were just a fire here. Visual effects courtesy of Nico Minoru's magic, no doubt. There's streaks of red paint smeared across several trees, the ground, and the props meant to look like blood, too, but it's probably not actually. One thing is for sure, which is that from a distance, from the outside looking in, it will certainly look as if there's a fire blazing within the woods the entire night.

The stage itself is made of wood and metal, elevated just a bit from the ground so it gives off the appearance as a dilapidated bridge, splintered and rusted, and is backed with black and orange curtains. Far from the stage is a merchandise table, which includes black t-shirts sporting Baphomet's insignia in white or red, as well as posters of the same design (some of which include also Baphomet's name, or flaming eyes below the symbol), various takes on the goat-skull, blades, and spikes theme via metal rings and necklaces, a Goatman plushie with burning red eyes, and then finally, shirts and encouraged donations promoting Linda Belcher's Lind-a-Care foundation. On the opposite side of the stage is a broad table with refreshments, sporting an enormous golden claw-footed punch bowl in the center which compartments a few different varieties of red-colored drinks (which Reggie Mantle will be happy to spike alcoholically, using his powers, should anyone want or ask) within itself, BAPHOMEAT (lamb kebabs), a broad spread of sandwich fixings and bread, elaborate fruit-and-cheese plates, a selection of fireball whisky, and of course, bottles of water.

Once it begins to get dark, the sun setting in earnest now... let the show begin.



( For a more individualized read on your character's reactions to Baphomet's godsong, please comment to THIS. )
The solstice sun burns low in the sky, descending quickly as dusk chases it, as stars speckle a darkening sky, when those red circles materialize. They glow into being in the field before the stage, neon yet ethereal, inviting yet taunting. And that metal stage-- there's a shimmer, like the atmosphere is melting. The stage becomes the opening to a cave, the audience situated in the "cave". You're in the cave, a lion in its lair. The outline of a neon red door appears, and you can feel the warmth from it on your face. It's like the hot high noon sun, it's like rage and war. It gets into your blood, this heat.

Baphomet steps through the door, onto the raise of stone that remained reminiscent of a performance stage. He raises both his arms above his head. He points to you, index finger out and thumb up.

One,

two,

three,

four.

The sound pours out of his mouth and it burns. You feel it under your skin, you feel it spreading -- infectious, you know it's viral. You know it is contagion. He screams a riot, incomprehensible yet intimate, he roars for you. He sings every surrender you've regretted, he sings your fists ripping at your own chains, of your searing and bloodied triumph. His eyes are catlike slits, his fangs displayed in predatory snarl.

Your veins glow with inspired revolution. You can break free, you can escape a hell of your own making. You can become your own plague, and lay waste those who would ever again hurt you.

⬤ ⬤ ⬤

It's also one of Baphomet's talents, to create what he calls image golems. They are illusions, mirages, a plague set upon your heart and your mind. They aren't real, but they seem real, they'll talk to you and react and provoke. Sometimes they give to chase. You may see it lurking, its blinkless stare looking back at you through thinning foliage. You may hear the twigs snap beneath its hooves. He will beckon to you, his all-too-human hand nearly normal, with only some fingers seemingly melded together. He walks with mostly a man's body, but he wears the head of a goat. Welcome to the sideshow.

If you approach him, he will speak with a voice familiar to you. The voice of someone not here, someone back home. Someone you miss. Everyone within earshot will hear.

"It's been too long. I miss you."

Something along those lines come out of his mouth.

And then he'll flee. You can either:
A. Give chase to him, catch him, and NPC him from there.
B. Take comfort in your company, who would have also heard a love one from the goatman's tongue.
C. Give chase to him, catch him, and kill him. An image golem of his nature will not hurt you. He will but dissolve.

Comments

A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

[baphlement]

So Baphomet's godsong has the potential to provoke temporary impulsive/violent behavior as a side effect! If you want your character to be susceptible to this and you want it to be witnessed, comment here with the characters who get in a fight with each other, or any property damage that might happen!

REGGIE MANTLE | ota

[bragnificent]

❚❚ PERFORMANCE

[ Reggie's outfitted a bit casually tonight, his hat sporting the Baphomet symbol in red and his eyes darkly circled with eyeliner as his compromise (aside from all the black he's wearing) to the overwhelming goth aesthetic™ that surrounds them. And as his simultaneous rebellion against any deeper commitment to a goth (joth) look, he tops his ensemble off with bright yellow star-shaped sunglasses.

He's been enjoying the show-- of course he is, of course he would, he knew from the start that Baphomet's message would speak to him, which is a big reason why he's been so drawn to him in the first place. A big reason why he's part of the entorauge now at all. He feels it in a different way than he feels Persephone's, or than he'd felt Dio's, and so especially without having been to one of Inanna's yet, either, this show strikes a chord with Reggie in a deeper way than the others have so far. It's hard to say why, exactly, but it just does. One, two, three, four.

So he'll dance, he'll grind, he'll scream and jump around like it's the best and hottest fucking rock show he's ever heard. At some point in the night he loses his shirt and his hat, but who cares? It's hot, he's hot, he in fact feels fucking invincible, itching for a fight or a fuck. It's a weird dichotomy, the passionate, restless energy the show's setting ablaze within him that makes him almost equally inclined to either kiss or punch whomever's close to him, depending on what they say or perhaps just the look they give him. ]

❚❚ GOATMAN

[ The Goatman apparition does take him by surprise; Reggie stumbles back when he first sees it, peering somewhat wide-eyed over his sunglasses, and attempts to maintain his carefree smirks and just shrug it off to his company -- or simply whomever's dancing or hanging out nearby him -- like pfft, special effects, I know it's all fake. But then the beast says in Archie Andrews's voice: "It's been too long. I miss you."

And Reggie goes pale enough that he suddenly looks like he might be sick. He knew this whole... "creature" would be part of the vibe tonight, yes, but this is on another level entirely. Adrenaline and emotion are buzzing through his veins by this point, making it feel much more real, much more difficult to shrug off-- and possibly he's also tripping slightly, but, you know. Just a bit.

He braces himself against the person next to him, or perhaps just a tree. He opens his mouth to speak: ]

Fuck. No.

[But that's all that he's capable of, before he tears off to run deeper into the woods. ]

❚❚ POST-SHOW

[ It's late, and by this point of the night (or, probably more accurately, morning) Reggie is rather spent, both emotionally and physically. He's exhausted, but mostly in a good way, his muscles still tense with leftover adrenaline. He can be found hanging out a bit deeper in the woods or just by his car at this point, his eye makeup a bit smudged, face flushed from the evening's exertion, but he'll still be open enough to chatting or doing whatever else.

Since he won't be leaving until it's fairly late anyway, so for now he's mostly killing time; he still has to help clean up and take everything down, after all. Frankly, it's not impossible he'll end up just spending the night there in his car and driving back in the morning, so feel free to stick around with him if you want should that be the case. ]

post-show

[couldbebeautiful]

Tell me you've seen my hat somewhere around here.

[Veronica looks and sounds exhausted—makeup smudged, hat missing, clothes shabbier than usual. At least one necklace has gone missing from around her neck, which, yeah, this is the last time she's wearing a Madonna outfit to a concert put on by one of the Pantheon. She does look satisfied, though—the adrenaline rush had been pretty good.

The clean-up's going on around them, apparently. Veronica glances around, then starts rolling up some of the mats herself, for those people who had passed out because of the godsong. Persephone is a hurricane, a storm that can't quite be contained, and Baphomet is a riot's seething rage and revolution and revenge. Forces of nature, she thinks, bound up somehow in people.]

You weren't kidding. That was—

[She stops. Huffs out a breath.]

That was a lot.

Goatman

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew lets himself be used as a brace without complaint, and even reaches for Reggie's arm to support him. The creature, and the voice that came out of it has him stunned too, bewilderment and distress and homesickness piling on top of the already overwhelming cocktail of emotions stirred up inside of him by Baphomet's performance--feelings that Matthew has never known before, crawling under his skin like insects. He only snaps out of his shock when Reggie takes off, hesitating just long enough to see if anyone else is going to follow him. Nope, looks like it's just Matthew.

He breaks into a run, chasing after his friend, his heart thudding. ]

Wait, no-- Reggie, hang on!

performance

[crassidy]

[Cassidy's at a similar point as the night draws on, decked out in some thrown together casual goth, the Baphomet branded cap on backwards, eye liner heavy and nails painted black. He also lost his shirt somewhere during the show (the hat remains), his bare torso emblazoned with tattoos on every inch of skin, including a huge magpie across his chest and that recognisably glowing wrist tat, but considering the heat of the night and the masses of sweating bodies, he's really not too concerned where his clothing went.

Plenty of alcohol has been drunk, and maybe a few other substances ingested, and he spends the rest of the evening just losing himself to the music, revelling in that searing desperation to smash it all, to break free, to be who the fuck he's got to be. There's a vaguely concerning bubble of something else rising from the pit of his stomach, tugging at his heart and urging him to act on impulse, but even in this state of euphoria Cassidy knows better than to listen to that little instinct. One things certain, in 120 years he's never been to anything quite like this.

At some point during the evening he finds himself close to Reggie, bouncing on the balls of his feet and eagerly joining in with the grinding and writhing with an electric sort of energy, buzzing in practically every sense of the word.]

Feckin' fantastic! [He shouts over the din, probably about the show or maybe it's Reggie's dance moves.] Really top notch stuff.

post-show

[burger_king]

[ He hadn't planned on staying this long. Figured he'd keep Tate company, check the place out, maybe antagonise Reggie without actually doing anything other than show up - the most effective way to do it, historically. Stay an hour or two, make sure Tate had a ride home and then head back into civilisation. Nothing more than that.

Jughead keeps his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as he approaches, body still trembling in the aftershock of adrenaline and- and whatever the fuck that was. He's tired and antsy all over, left cheek flushed from a budding black eye that he can't entirely remember when or how he got. He hasn't crossed paths with Reggie all night - a miracle - and right now it feels incredibly important that he goes out of his way to say hi. ]

School project, huh?

Baphomet | The Wicked + The Divine || ota

[baphlement]

01 -- PERSONAL ENCORE
The neon burnt out like a supernova, a pop of excruciating red light searing into white, and then -- nothing, no lingering whisper, he was gone. The stage was once more visually made of metal and wood, bent in its bridging curve, concrete and earthen. Baphomet's illusions had vanished along with him. The chill of the Pennsylvanian night seeped back into the atmosphere, creeping along the absence of a god. You might blink, take a breath, you might compose yourself with the thought of a cold drink -- and then he's there, right at your side, his hand offered in greeting.

Suddenly.

"Saw you from the stage," he said. "Need just a touch more of it?"

02 -- AFTER PARTY
The post-show haze. Baphomet wouldn't partake in the Hunt for the Goatman himself; he was a magician proved jaded by his own tricks. He wasn't here for the dead, or the imaginary, he sought only the living. The living provided the best company, in his experience. Water bottle in hand, Baphomet sat down on the slope of his bridge-stage, close enough to the edge so that his leather boots keep solid contact with the grassy ground. His mind was on his image golems, what they could be, how they could affect people. What they could mean to those who knew personal loss too well.

"Hey there," he said, glancing at you. "What's the one thing you'd want to see, right now?"

01

[queenofseers]

"Yeah, I get it. Real fucking funny."

Cassandra is almost certainly the least sweaty and disheveled person at this concert, mostly because she- as she expected- got nothing out of it other than a general assessment of how Baphomet's powers effect most people (they make them violent dipshits, in her opinion). She's been leaning on a tree in the back, sipping an iced coffee, the entire time. You start to get used to watching people dance around aimlessly if you've seen it enough times, although things got mildly spiced up tonight by the fact that she nearly got accidentally punched more than once.

In other words, she's not in the best of moods. She felt obligated to come, but really wishes she hadn't.

"It's not going to work, trust me. And I'm...not sure I want to know what 'a touch more of it' means from you."

after party

[crassidy]

This company isn't quite living, not technically anyway, but he's at least more talkative than the dead.

When Cassidy approaches he's topless, moderately bruised and looking well and truly exhausted, sitting heavily onto the grass before Baphomet and then sprawling backwards with a satisfied sound. Even a vampire's endurance had been tested to the limit on this night.

"A comfy bed and a few pints of blood," he answers with a smirk, sprawling dramatically as he stares directly up at the night sky. "Alright there, mate?"

01

[herrstory]

Herr Starr was here, like a fish out of water. An older man standing away from the crowd of younger teens and looking rather uncomfortable all the while. He was nearly ready to give up on this whole thing. It wasn't worth it. There were better ways to investigate David's gods.

And then Baphomet performed.

It didn't exactly inspire rage, but it was inspirational in its own right. Starr listened and he felt empowered. He felt that he could effectively change the world. He felt that he was on the right path. Both here and at home. He could save two universes. Order, as he deemed it fit, would be restored.

At the end of it, his fingers itched to call Chilton -- to speak to the man at length. But that thought was interrupted when Baphomet appeared before him, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Ah. No. I've had my fill. Do you often offer private encores to your audience members?"

THE LATEST TAG IN... after party style but a little different

[yol8]

Of course, there was Dionysus, front and center for Baphomet's performance. Of course he was there, cheering the loudest amongst the crowd, wearing one of Baphomet's merch shirts. He is nothing if not a Full Support Bro, right now and forever.

"Hey! That was fucking fantastic, Baph! I'm really glad you came out and did this! I haven't been to a show like this in- almost a year? Over a year? Shit!"

And yet he's laughing, clearly somewhat affected by the show, but it takes it's own form when mixed with Dionysus' energy. It's revolution, yes, it's rebellion, but instead of it being a tortured anger, it's a kind that feels more like furious hope, a determination to be free.

"Come here, man!"

He's going in for a hug. You can't stop this hug. (Okay, you can, but do you really want to?)

nico minoru | mcu | ota

[sanguinespell]

preshow
[while reggie mostly just made concessions to the night's aesthetic, nico went all-in. her look is more theatrical than her normal style, dark hair teased up into classic 80s crimps and Big Goth Hair beneath her dress's oversized hood. the Staff of One stays in her grip, its ring glowing. she places a finishing touch here or there as she mingles--she's used to doing a bit of gladhanding here or there at her parents' charity events, but this is so much more her element.

still, the experience helps, and she's liable to approach any attendees once they finally make their way to the space, and have taken enough of the sight in. Or, more likely, she'll seem to appear by their side, or behind them, with little but a sudden rush of air announcing her presence.]

So, you made it.

performance
[she knows the vibe of Baphomet's song already, but the righteous anger and rebellion it inspires--words, just being told beforehand what it does hadn't done it justice. The Staff is out of her grasp now, left active in a safeguarded location nearby so as to not dispel her not-insignificant share of the night's illusions. nico dances, she screams, she feels nothing but the inspiration and divine fury as she goes among the crowd. rage swells at PRIDE, at Thanos; it's a rejection of all of the evil and wickedness that she's witnessed at home, and that she knows is coming if she goes back. all of the fucked up things that have happened in this world, too.

this is a moment she's waited for for months now. and it feels incredible.]

goatman
[she's run through the plan for this part of the show with reggie and baphomet before. nico knows what to expect, but that doesn't make it any easier when she first spots it. and the adrenaline, the post-show energy, is still coursing through her. coupled with a fair amount of sativa and alcohol, of course. she curses, stumbling back, steadying herself on her staff. and then the damn thing speaks, in her dead sister's voice. "It's been too long. I miss you." then it seems to slip out of sight, no doubt moving deeper into the trees.

she doesn't seem to take it well, eyes widening as she grips the staff, white-knuckled beneath lace fingerless gloves.

that wasn't amy minoru. she knows it wasn't, but--]

No.

[nico glances around to anyone else who might have heard it, not sure what the next move should be.]

wildcard
[do your own thing! hmu at clockworkbrain if you want to talk specifics]

preshow

[couldbebeautiful]

[A year in this place, and Veronica still startles every time someone sneaks up behind her. She doesn't spill cranberry punch over her top, at least, but some drops fall to the ground anyway as she lets out a soft little curse.]

Shit—sorry. [She turns to look at Nico.] Of course I did it. Wouldn't miss it.

preshow

[queenofseers]

[ Cassandra has come here holding a cup of coffee (as per usual) and expecting to be either bored or annoyed out of her mind. She didn't particularly want to come anyway, and on top of that, she's already pretty sure Baphomet's power won't work on her without even hearing it.

That said, her mood meant she wasn't especially on-guard, and upon Nico materializing near her she looks like she's about to jump out of her skin. ]

Jesus fuck, don't fucking do that! [ She takes a deep breath. ] Yeah, of course I made it? I'm here. Who even are you?

goatman

[shesalittle]

I miss her too. [They should just ignore that. It's not like it's a totally inexplicable phenomenon. It's thematic. It does occur to her that the voice is probably personalized, that somebody standing next to her would have heard the voice of the person they miss most. But for her and Nico, that person is the same.

And the sound is hard to ignore. She's heard Amy's voice a few times since she died -- on videos, at the funeral, in weeks-old voicemails that she hadn't gotten around to deleting before it happened and couldn't bring herself to after. But it's been a long time.

And that didn't sound like a recording. It sounded real. It's not, she knows it's not, but it felt real.

]

IF THIS IS TOO LATE IT'S OKAY YOU CAN IGNORE MEEEE also goatman

[yol8]

[Baphomet's plan of leading confused strangers into the forest chasing after illusions with the high of rebellion and rage on their minds: maybe not the best idea. But he's absolutely not going to get down on Baph's show, not when it took so much out of him to do it, and so Dio'll help out, finding those affected by the Goatman and seem to be struggling a bit.

There's a girl, that he's seen briefly on the network before. Hasn't ever spoken to though, but...

She doesn't seem like she's doing so hot. ]

Hey?

veronica sawyer | heathers the musical | cw: mentions of murder, attempted suicide

[couldbebeautiful]

[one: pre-show]

[True to her word, when Veronica shows up, she looks like she stepped out of an 80s music video, with a couple of concessions made to fit in more with the theme: there's a goat-skull symbol emblazoned on the top, and a wide-brimmed black hat sitting on top of her head, a blue ribbon tied around it. She drifts towards the refreshments, taking a drink before the show starts.

She leans against the table, looking for all the world like she fits in here. She pins the netting of her hat up, takes another sip, and spots someone coming towards her. She smiles a little, straightening up.]

Did you see that little Goatman plushie? I'm kinda thinking about giving one to a friend of mine. [Kay would appreciate the sentiment, she's sure. At the very least it isn't a Furby.] The burning red eyes are a little much, though.

[two: performance]

[One.

JD's smile. JD promising maybe prom night, maybe dancing and looking in her eyes. JD, smiling, beatific, smoking gun in his hand and dead body at his feet. Our love is God—and she'd surrendered, and regretted it, and she's still trying to claw her way back up out of the pit that surrender put her in. The song seeps in, and she remembers the bomb in her hands, the gun in her hands, JD's body under her.]

You were wrong. [Just saying it out loud feels good. Like taking something back. There's something manic in her eyes, in how she snarls the profanity out, like it's been seething inside her for a long, long time. But she doesn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular..] You were so fucking wrong.

[Two.

Heather, smiling cruelly, leaning over Martha's unconscious and broken form on the hospital bed. Heather, tilting her cheek up, this could be beautiful, cold cruelty marring her beauty. Heather, dead beside her, drain cleaner dripping from her lips.

Three.

Brendan, gone. Justine, gone. Archie, gone. Jyn, gone. So many of her friends gone and her still here, her left behind, dead girl walking and yet somehow still alive and here. She is still alive—everyone else is dead and gone, JD and Heather Chandler and Ram and Kurt, and she is still here and maybe that in itself is something like rebellion, something like freedom. She tastes copper on her tongue, licks her lips, bounces, screams at the top of her lungs.

She's still alive, she's still here.

Four.

She whips around, reaches for the first person to her right, heart pounding in her chest—]

[three: goatman]

[It's been too long. I miss you.

(You're with the Heathers now! That's exciting.)

Veronica freezes in place, when the Goatman says that in Martha's voice. A last image swims up from the forefront of her mind: Martha, so still and so small in her hospital bed, wrapped in white like a ghost. Martha Dumptruck took a belly-flop off the old bridge last night, and it had felt like a punch to the gut. It still feels like a punch to the gut, and she's frozen, stock-still.

I miss you.]

Martha, I'm so sorry. [The Goatman watches her, for a moment, before it suddenly turns on its heel and runs. Veronica swears, snapping back to life, and gives chase after it, but she doesn't catch up to him before she slows to a stop and leans against a tree, like she's winded. She seems like it.

She slumps down to her knees, shoulders shaking. She reaches up to her eyes, and her fingers come away wet with tears.]

two

[burger_king]

[ He's too wrapped up in it to really notice her beside him, too enthralled by how the music seeps in, igniting the little pockets of gasoline that's always coursing in his blood. He's not the screaming kind, not the jumping kind, but he's still in it, letting it consume him.

She makes a reach for him and he turns to her, grabs her by the wrist but doesn't pull away or towards. Just looks at her, eyes dark and glinting with recognition that he knows her, that he knows that in this moment they're a part of something greater than everything. ]

( goatman )

[girlybruiser]

Are you alright?

[ Haru has been stalking through the forest in search of the Goatman (her father? Baphomet? Whoever it is...) to no avail. Her inability to catch up to him brings her to such frustrations it borders on murderous, perhaps evident by what looks to be a large axe she drags behind her.

But she finds Veronica instead, a girl who looks familiar enough to give pause, but the darkness makes it difficult to discern right away. ]

iii

[bragnificent]

Whoa, dude. Relax. It's just me.

[ Reggie didn't see or hear Tate's version of the Goatman just then, but he recognizes what probably just happened based on his own experience only a few minutes ago; he still feels tense and uneasy from hearing Archie's voice out of the ether, himself, and while he's quite keen to shake the feeling off, it's a lot easier said than done. It's been such a fucking great evening, otherwise. Reggie wants to bring that back, fan the flames of that, not have them all doused by a memory he's in no mood to reflect upon here and now.

So, Tate's a strangely welcome distraction. He needed to catch up with him at some point tonight anyway, and though they've both been here for basically the entire time, right now is the first time he's really noticed him. Reggie pulls him lightly -- just in case, because he doesn't know him well enough yet to know how he'll react to that -- aside by the arm. ]

And that was just a special effect. It isn't real.

HARU OKUMURA | open

[girlybruiser]

♛ PRE-SHOW

[ There is always that one person at any event that seems to stick out among the crowd, largely because they stand out in such a way that many would believe they accidentally wandered into the wrong event. Tonight, Haru is the odd one out, a delicate looking young woman surrounded by all sorts of interesting types. She has made an effort to participate in the aesthetics and themes, dressed in mostly black, even her stockings a solid black instead of patterned tonight. If she's going to attend a concert, she best look the part, no?

There's a quiet eagerness to her as she attempts to mingle with others. She's come with Yusuke tonight, although she splits from him at times before the show to scope out the venue. Though she may be a bit shy, she's more than approachable and ready to strike a conversation.

Gravitating toward the merchandise table, Haru's eyes appear to light up with interest as she picks up a spiked ring. ]

Isn't this both fashion-forward and practical for defense?

♛ PERFORMANCE

[ It's exhilarating.

Once the show kicks off Haru is immediately seized by what Baphomet's song invokes from her own heart. It's an adrenaline rush she slips deeper and deeper into, letting herself go among the crowd as she dances and gets loud with strangers. Sometimes she gets close enough to drape her arms around their neck, regardless of who they are, just for the thrill of having someone pressed close to her.

It's almost euphoric, this feeling, almost comfortingly familiar. Rebellion has always been nestled in her heart, waiting for opportune moments to burst free. The rhythmic beating of the music is both loud and sharp in her ears, her heart pounding harder and faster now along with the beat. Her chest feels hot and as if pricked by several sharp needles, and soon even her head begins to feel it. But it feels good -- no, it feels freeing. This is what she had to endure the last time when she awakened to her true self, the pain beyond anything she had ever experienced, but wholly worth it.

As the song continues and Haru wants to claw at her own skin, she is reminded of all that suffering, that righteous, hot anger buried in her chest that made her freedom worth striving for.

❝ You can break free, you can escape a hell of your own making. ❞

She is free. ]

♛ GOATMAN

[ The golem's presence doesn't alarm her initially. She's eerily calm, staring back at him as if he were an old friend.

He sort of was when he had lent his power to her friend. ]

... Baphomet.

[ But he doesn't look quite the same. Before Haru can peer closer, a voice she hasn't heard in what feels like a lifetime, but could never forget, comes from the goatman's mouth. She's startled, taking a step back almost defensively at first. ]

F-father?

[ The shock doesn't fade; Haru, though, begins advancing instead of shying away as she was once prone to do in front of Kunikazu Okumura. She moves cautiously, her gaze almost manic, breathing hard and fast. ]

But how?

[ Her thoughts are too muddled to comprehend what's transpiring before her, but before she can inquire further the golem hightails in the opposite direction.

And she follows after him, as fast as her legs will carry her. She has to know what he wants after all this time, if it really is her father. Her mind races, unable to formulate coherent thoughts as the adrenaline kicks back in. She continues after him, bumping into people one after another. It slows her down much to her frustration and the thought her father has shown up somewhere she thought she could be free is even more aggravating.

It makes her feel small and volatile in that moment and all she can do is stand there, lost in a haze. ]



( ooc: there is a possibility of haru becoming violent, either by drawing a weapon or summoning her own persona. if you would like to plot something for that, please pm me on this journal or @ kitties! )

pre-show

[queenofseers]

[ Luckily, Haru isn't the only one at this concert who seems to be out of place. Despite her usual goth get-up, Cassandra really doesn't seem excited to be here- she's here partially because Baphomet kept bugging her, and partially because she promised at least one friend she'd go. Nonetheless, she's done nothing but frown and feel like she wants to go lie down from the moment she arrived.

She approaches Haru after seeing her mostly as an excuse for something to do, on top of knowing the girl already. She knows enough about Haru that the question she asks shouldn't really be a surprise...but she still takes a second to answer. ]

I'm not sure if defense was the point when they made it... [ It's Baphomet merch, after all, and Baphomet is Baphomet. ] But I guess it works. Is the spike actually sharp?

DAVID BLAKE | OTA

[halfblaked]

ᚫ PERFORMANCE ᚫ

[ Out of many of the people there tonight, one was only an observer. Unlike most, he didn't get into the performance, he watched. Prior to the performance, he could be found jotting down in a small notebook, clumsily fiddling with a recorder, and all-around looking about as out of place as a fifty year old man could. Surprisingly, after prompting from other members of the pantheon, he had decided to change up the wardrobe. Dressed in jeans, a smarter looking button-up, and a casual black leather jacket, he at least looked like a dad trying to be cool.

But when the performance started, David watched, his eyes intense. It wasn't adulation on his face, but concentration. As if he listened hard enough -- could he hear it? Could he finally find himself affected by a song? Or was it something else? The recorder peeked out of his jacket -- he made no show to hide it, but instead jotted down notes. Occasionally, he moved position, to see more, eyes narrowed, as he watched the headliner of the night.

Baphomet was good -- different without his companion. David tapped a pen against his chin, his voice low. ] Fascinating...

[ Clearly he was into it. Just... not affected. Odd. ]

ᚫ THE SIDESHOW ᚫ

[ David hung back, after the performance. He watched, he listened, he almost looked like he was just as keen to watch the faces of those who'd been affected, still observing, still watching. He never let his gaze linger too long, at first. Just took stock of the reactions of the crowd, how they reacted to this particular god's song, how it affected people.

His eyes lingered, when the Goat-Man came around, even moreso when he saw the way individual people reacted.

A miracle, then. Something tied to the god's powers? At first, he was interested, and after a few didn't run, or move, he approached, his voice soft, and mild. ] Excuse me? What happened?

[ It went on a bit -- asking for details, curious about the nature of the miracle, until David was caught unaware, he hadn't realized how close he'd gotten, a voice familiar to him in his ear -- somehow, he'd missed the goat-man nearby, and he slipped, and fell to the ground, before he tried to scramble up. Fuck. ] Son of a b -- [ He caught himself, and scrambled up, before he tried to collect himself, his things -- and he left.

Unless someone caught him on the way -- Was he going deeper into the woods? ]

sideshow

[queenofseers]

[ In the mess of teens in black clothing, it's a wonder that Cassandra didn't notice David until he fell down, startled by the goat-man. She herself had been curious as to why it was scaring people, but didn't think she'd be able to hear it in the first place. After all, none of Baphomet's song has been working on her; she's had a lovely night of dodging people getting into fights, and it's gotten to the point where she's put her hood down to drown out screaming.

She'd have gone to track down the Professor anyway, but she moves a little faster once she realizes he's going deeper in the woods- why the hell would he do that? Did he see something?

After a moment of getting herself through the crowd, she eventually comes close to him, enough that she thinks he can probably hear her despite the noise of the concert. ]

Professor? What's going on?

Ronan Lynch | OTA

[nightmarist]

performance

[Ronan shows up fashionably late with the rest of his squad. He's looking very typically Ronan, which means he blends in perfectly with the crowd, and when the music hits his ears, he disappears right into it. Any concert has a good chance of inspiring him to get rowdy, but this one drives him mad from the get-go. He moshes like he's in a cage fight with a hundred other people, hurling himself against the bodies around him and swinging his fists toward random faces. He's a practiced boxer with a hulking build, so though he takes a number of punches himself, anyone he slams into is probably going to be hurting a lot more than he is. Not that he cares. A good fight, in his opinion, is the best kind of fun.]

goatman

[It's his father's voice that he hears. And because Ronan is all too aware that Niall Lynch is extremely dead, he takes offense to the illusion. He's in a violent mood already, so he doesn't let the insult go unanswered. Head snapping toward the beast, his lip curling, he snarls:]

What the fuck did you say?

[It isn't a very long chase, only a few steps before Ronan's leaping onto the thing and tackling it to the ground. Then he punches, and punches, and punches - and he'll keep doing it until someone physically drags him away from the golem.]

after the show

[Ronan has neither supernatural strength nor a supernatural rate of recovery, which means he's in terrible shape by the end of the night. His clothes are torn in a few more places than they were previously. His lip is split and his nose bloody, two black eyes in the process of swelling up. He's beaten his knuckles raw and skinned both knees at some point, leaving him limping over to grab a final drink. But, oh, he's happy. He's thrilled. He rarely gets to kick ass and have his ass kicked so thoroughly, which always gets him high on adrenaline and endorphins. Though he's shaking and bleeding, he's also laughing.]

after the show

[crassidy]

[Cassidy's made a vague effort to keep with the style of the show. Although his top got lost somewhere in the heat of the night, still decked out in all black; leggings with gym shorts thrown over the top, dusty old converse, aviator shades (yes, at night) and a Baphomet branded cap on backwards for the ultimate fuckboy look. His eyeliner's smeared over time to give a more panda eyed look, but even with that and the bruising scattered across his tattooed torso he's still looking a whole lot better than Ronan.]

Looks like you had a good night there, boyo. [He calls out with amusement, smirking around a straw as he slurps from something hidden away in a paper bag.]

[burger_king]

Pre-show

[ Tate asked and Jughead agreed and now he's here, in the middle of the Maurtia Falls woods. He wasn't sure what to expect but he has to admit that the production value is a lot higher than he thought - the atmosphere is promising and he finds himself in a surprisingly good mood as he wanders around, on the look-out for familiar faces. He's made exactly zero effort to embrace the goth aesthetic, aside from picking clothes from the darker spectrum of his closet, but you can get pretty far with a leather jacket and a practiced brooding scowl. ]

Performance

[ This isn't his scene, or at least he thought it wasn't. He's not so sure now. The music is - consuming and although Jughead isn't a dancer or a jumper or a screamer he does allow it to swallow him up whole, to ignite the pockets of gasoline he's always got burning in his blood. It hammers against his chest, like the Gauntlet all over again, like the cool steel of a switchblade in his hands. It's a riot, the deep sense of belonging, of burning right through bureaucracy and protocol and just get shit done. Right some injustices, break through every barrier that stands in his way until his knuckles are bloody and bruised.

With a feverish glint in his eyes Jughead pushes through the crowd, wanting to get closer to the stage. ]

Goat man

[ Curiosity killed the cat. It doesn't hurt that it's kind of his job to investigate the weird - there's very little hesitation as he approaches the figure, fuelled by the feeling of invincibility that comes with youth and loud music. Besides, it's fake, right? An illusion, all part of the show? And then it speaks, in a female voice so familiar to him and in that moment he knows it's fake because she doesn't miss him. If she did, she would've let him come home.

He doesn't pursue. Instead, he retreats back into the crowd, shaking with pent up adrenaline that's now poisoned with the cold dread of helplessness. There's so much to be angry about and only so much he can do. Feeling sick he backs up against a tree, breathing deep as his knees buckle under him, back pressed against the bark. Fuck. ]

Ryūji Sakamoto | ota

[imaphantomthief]

1.
[Breaking free is an old familiar song to Ryūji. Even in his relatively short life there are so many things he’s broken alongside of captivity. He doesn’t bow his head to many people anymore, and far fewer of the people who demand it. His shoulders slouch, though, taking on a managing posture as he wades into the crowd.

He doesn’t live near here. Doesn’t recognize the symbols that he’d casually followed from the trains. He’d just found them interesting. His curiosity might have lead him in, but he can’t blame all of it on that. Curiosity isn’t enough to draw someone to an apparently burning forest. There’s something else about it.

He isn’t interested in the alcohol, which is probably not what people assume when they see him sniffing the drinks. He’s just trying to find some fruit punch or whatever. Really!]

2.
[When the music starts, things click into place. The symbolism might not be familiar, but that strange rush in response to the song is. This must be someone from Luci’s world. Ryūji’s pulse quickens. It doesn’t take him long to elbow his way to the mosh pit.

Someone pulls his shirt over his head and it tears. He shoves back blindly, throwing someone into the mud. Blows are exchanged, someone laughs, and it becomes a mud wrestling match with dancing breaks and maybe even some break dancing in between.

It’s absurd, violent enough to draw blood, hilarious. It’s freedom. Every punch he takes is fuel on the fire. He gives as good as he gets. These guys aren’t his dad or his coach, but they’ll do for now. Any passers by might want to watch out for flying dirt and firsts.]

1

[deathboss]

[Eikichi was...well...he didn't look out of place with the outfit he had come into this world with. In fact a few people had commented how different it looked.

That being said, Ryuji's not the only one who isn't interested in the alcohol. Eikichi's got a boring bottle of water in his hand and he hands it to the other.]

Here, if you're thirsty. I ain't touching any of this shit myself.