[the most open please come play] WE'RE AT THE PIZZA HUT. WE'RE AT THE GATES OF HELL.

[pummelgranite]

WHO: anyone! everyone!.
WHERE: A very public McBurgers joint in Heropa
WHEN: Evening September 8th
WHAT: A spontaneous rockshow/spectacular public tantrum
WARNINGS: Definitely themes of death, depression, PTSD and self-destruction. References to suicide and drug use very possible.



[ There's some kind of commotion at yonder Burger Joint. People are crowding at the windows to look in. Someone from inside stumbles out and onto his knees to catch his breath.


And it's loud.


It's loud because someone's . . . singing? Even well before one is close enough to make out the lyrics (or lack thereof), the effect can be felt. It's something raw, and angry, and aching. But it feels good, good in that scream-along-to-Adele-after-a-breakup, belting-out-Journey-at-a-wake, Messiah-Chorus-with-the-highschool-band-backing-you-up kind of way. It's fucking rock and roll and it is fucking great.

Except that it's being sung by a woman standing on the counter of a fast food joint where people might be wanting to order burgers.

Not that any of the patrons seem to mind, if the clapping and cheering and number of phones out to record are any indication. ]



((OOC: Persephone is throwing a small public tantrum, by way of turning a Mc Burger Man in the middle of downtown Heropa into a mindfuck musical venue. Please check out her power post here and let me know if you want me to write out some custom effect for the song.))

Comments

[abandon_hope]

[ There's a second Greek god thing here in the form of a gangly teenager. He had been just sticking close to Persephone out of sheer curiosity, but...

Di immortalis. She wasn't kidding about that music, was she? Nico thinks he can see why this would be worshipful ... There's something desperately familiar and equally sour about the song. He feels like he's home in the Underworld. He feels like he's falling into Tartarus and being lost there for days ...

Slowly, he puts his hands over his ears. He doesn't know if he desperately wants to hear more ... or throw up. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Its the abyss. its grave dirt. its the blood under your fingernails when you claw your way to the surface. and its the defiance that keeps you clawing and kicking and struggling.

When she turns to look at him, her look is somehow apolgetic, but still merciless and pityless. We're in hell. What a shame. Life's a bitch, huh?

But she does extend a hand to him from the counter where she stands. ]

[abandon_hope]

[ He's slowly finding his equilibrium, even if there's still too much Tartarus in there for his tastes. In the end he's a child of the Underworld. And perhaps more importantly, he was good at surviving on his own long before he started living in the Underworld full time.

Shakily, he joins her up there. His own aura is reacting weirdly to all of this divine magic. Any fresh flowers in the room immediately wilt and die. (Sorry, dude trying to ironically have a fancy date in this burger joint, but it was a stupid idea anyway.) ]

[heckblazer]

[ John knows he should he skeptical. He knows he should be laughing it off, giving the little bird some space. He knows he shouldn't stare and he knows that he should shrug, remember that he was worse at this age, and carry on with his day.

John knows all of this and does not care, which is why he's standing slack-jawed, watching, a half-eaten burger going cold in his hand.

He thinks of many things at once. Most of them memories he cannot discuss in polite society, and has to remind his body how to physically breathe.

Plus, the music itself is pretty kickass. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Oh, this guy gets it.


How thin the ground beneath their feet is. How very very close Hell remains.


Also how fucking great 70s BritPunk is, am I fucking right? How does one woman's unaccompanied voice sound this much like Siouxsie And The Banshees? It's a mystery.


She just give him a little salute as she moves to the next song. ]

[heckblazer]

[ Oh, Sweet fucking backflipping Jesus. Where'd this kid come from?

Admittedly, he's a little jealous. She's doing what he always wished he could when he performed.

He almost motions to go up there. Thinks about how smashing it might be to pull out some more of the classics. He wonders if she could pull off the Freddie part in Under Pressure, but ...

nah. A twinkle of clarity pokes through his euphoric haze. She's doing fine up there without his help. Odds are he'd send people run screaming. ]

[abandon_hope]

[ There's another supernatural presence here, though he's thoroughly overshadowed by Actual Goddess Persephone next to him. He's a gangly thing too, still growing into his limbs at the age of fourteen. Still, a son of Hades gives off some pretty weird vibes of his own. The shadows in this place seem to dance along with the beat of Persephone's song.

He looks straight at John after a moment. Any weird supernatural pings from you, buddy? ]

Who are you?

[heckblazer]

I'm -- ah --

[ Damn it. He needs a moment to recall how to actually talk. ]

I'm me, mate.

[ He's still cursing internally. How many bloody teenagers have flocked to him in this place already? ]

[brushoff]

[ Dorian is amped. He's head Persephone's song before and, like an addict, he finds himself hooked. What she does to his brain...it's enthralling. It's something that Dorian's hasn't encountered in a while and God how he loves it. Whatever Persephone does is amazing.

So how come this rando is just watchin? Spotting John, Dorian gives him a wild grin. ]

Well stop standing there, old man. This a concert, isn't it?

[ Dorian is a hundred and fifty years old. He really can't call anyone 'old man.' ]

OPEN to anyone who doesn't mind getting hurt real bad and/or wants to restrain him

[hostage]

[Why am I here?

It's the last coherent thought going through Jesse's mind, buzzing with the opening chords of Persephone's song.

Why am I here? And then nothing - or rather, everything, all at once, hitting him with a rush the likes of which he hasn't felt since the days when his body was still capable of experiencing a high. It's exhilarating to the point of paralysis, a buzzing under his skin that seizes him up and holds him still as a statue. Everyone else is moving, shoving and whirling all around him, but Jesse is transfixed. His breathing comes rapid and shallow, sucked between gritted teeth. There's a familiarity to this overpowering sensation, and if he could organize even a single thought, he'd recognize it as identical to the terrifying adrenaline rush that he gets when he takes a life.

But Jesse isn't available right now. He'll remain frozen like this until someone lays a hand on him.]

cw c-word, underage drinking, implied drug use, etc.

[pillz]

Hey, sugarcunt. I've missed you.

[the voice over jesse's shoulder is familiar, loud, but probably lost a little in the morass of voice-and-other-noise. psychic noise.

kavinsky's drunk, as usual. it helps takes the edge off of what the music is doing to him— a good thing, because he'd hate it otherwise, loathe the parasitic seed of hope spiking its roots through his heart. but he's drunk, so it's easier, even if it isn't easy, riding out the queasy feeling of hamburger in his gut, the familiar high off jesse's cologne.

he grabs the older man's arm.] Needs more dubstep. You think?

[hostage]

[The sudden grip on his arm frees Jesse from whatever cage was containing him. What happens next is lightning-fast, like a crocodile snapping its jaws. His free hand darts up and closes around Kavinsky's throat, fingernails clawing into his soft skin. Jesse isn't especially strong in most circumstances, but this spell pushes his muscles to the limit the same way adrenaline can make a mother can lift a car off her child. It's the pure impulse of kill or be killed.]

Re: OPEN to anyone who doesn't mind getting hurt real bad and/or wants to restrain him

[pummelgranite]

[ She gives him a wink. The lyrics are still gibberish, but this verse is for him. The smell of kitchen grease and meat gives way to the cloying sweetness of lily-of-the-valley.


They're both in hell, but it's not unbearable, is it? So they're trapped and they're dying and everything is garbage but that's OK. That's fine. Let's invite some more company down here, huh? ]

[hostage]

[It's far from unbearable. Hatred has an addictive quality. Rage is a state that no one ever really wants to leave. That's what makes forgiveness nearly impossible for people. Violence - even the violence contained in someone's heart - satisfies some animal need in everyone. And that's where Jesse is right now, swept up in the righteousness of resentment and pain and betrayal.

He recognizes the scent of lily-of-the-valley. After Brock was poisoned, he'd wanted to know the stuff. Wanted to know what to be on the lookout for. The characteristics of that deadly flower became burned in his mind, and when the fragrance floods his senses, tears gather in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. His loss rises to the surface, running from the moment when Andrea first suspected him of poisoning her baby up till the end of it, when Jesse's little family was annihilated completely.

Yes, it is Hell.]

[hypodermicgurl]

[ The woman in the leopard print coat hadn't been there when the singing started. She hadn't walked in a door or crawled out of the bathroom. Five minutes into the concert, she was simply there, seated in a booth and enjoying a cigarette with her eyes closed, swaying to the music. ]

Beautiful.

[ Sally was going to pour this woman into a bottle and keep her on her besides. As soon as the show was done. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Huh, what's this? She can hear it- the emptiness, the pain. Misery's insatiable hunger for company. So she extends a hand to the woman, like the song is just for her.


We're in Hell. We will always be in Hell. But we can be in Hell together. Love me, worship me, get hooked on me, and you'll never be alone. ]

[shifting]

[Walking back from an evening at the beach, hair still wet, Sam was having a good night. Easy. The music got his attention as he passed (what the hell was a burger place doing having a rock concert?), but it was the crowd which kept it - a mass of bodies and emotion, screaming and sobbing. He could smell the adrenaline from a mile away, mixed with grease and sweat.

He should have kept walking.

The music washes over him when he slips inside, pricks his ears and then his nerves, and then it's like being caught in a current, yanked into the riptide and he's drowning, drowning. Sam sucks in a quick, shallow breath, his eyes fixed on the woman on the counter. Sam stumbles back like he's been hit, blinking against a wet film of salt water which has nothing to do with the stink of the ocean still clinging to his clothes. Waves of Persephone's song crash against him, rocking every careful wall of repression built over a lifetime of blood and loss, desperate hope, betrayal, and abandonment, and rage, oh Christ, but he's shaking with it.

Someone bumps into him. Or maybe they don't. Maybe they're just in reach when she hits that high note and it all comes crashing down like Sam's fist towards the face nearest to him.]

[brushoff]

[ And then Dorian gets punched right in the nose.

He is not a fighter. He is 100% not a fighter. But he's so wrapped up in the emotion and in Persephone's song that of course he's going to retaliate. So, wide grin on his face as the blood trickles down his nose, Dorian swings a terrible punch in Sam's vague direction.

That's what they're supposed to do, after all. This is more than a concert. This is an event. ]

[rathercommon]

[ Kitty had seen the crowd, and it had made her nervous. Put her on edge. Big crowds in Heropa tend to mean imPorts, and tend to therefore mean powers. And powers mean danger, especially to the locals. So she'd come.

The music...well. There's something to it that pushes at the edges of her consciousness, but does no more than that. Her resilience - both her magical resilience and her own emotional resilience - keep her safe from succumbing. So she watches the chaos, face drawn with growing fear and growing horror. ]

[pummelgranite]

[ Through the window and across the dining hall, Persephone's attention turns towards her and holds there. Does she know? Can she tell? Her singing doesn't chance at all, she doesn't seem to draw the crowd's attention to Kitty. She's just . . . watching her. ]

uh hell yeah

[brushoff]

[ Dorian is just 100% affected. Persephone's song pulls at him, tugs at his brain, dives right into Dorian's soul. It's his brief spans of depression mixed with his hopes mixed with his despairs and it's just slamming into him like a brick wall. He's enrapt. He also straight up has blood on his face, thanks Sam Merlotte but that doesn't matter in the slightest, not when he's here and Persephone's still singing.

So when he sees Kitty just sitting there and watching, he can't help but be confused. Kitty's no fun. That much is obviously apparent. But surely even Kitty "I'm a stuck up bitch who doesn't know how to have a good time" Jones should recognize the power behind this song. This is Persephone, after all. ]

Isn't it wonderful?

[ said in a tone that implies that yes, it is wonderful, and you should probably agree with Dorian's assessment. ]

[bonding_moment]

[Keith can hear it, of course. The intensity, the depth and pain, the splendor of it. From the moment the singing starts he's frozen in place, staring stricken up at Persephone.

At least until some poor patron makes the mistake of jostling him in an attempt to get closer to her. He jolts to life all at once and wrenches the poor sap by their arm to flip and throw them across the room and, after a few challenging glares around the room, goes right back to staring awestruck and more than a little distressed at the goddess on the counter.]

[pummelgranite]

Oi! Knock that off! You want cops? Because that's how you get cops.

[hisheartsdesire]

[Sitting outside to watch the sunrise and dying in his lover's arms was one of the most traumatic experiences Toby has ever had. Coming back to Dorian was another. Toby is merely passing by when he hears this song, this... incredible, beautiful song. It seems to resonate with him and connect with something inside him. Perhaps Dorian's soul that Toby himself doesn't even know about.

Why... Why is he crying? Toby finds himself swiping at his face, his hands coming away streaked with tears. He can't stop himself shaking as all sorts of memories and emotions just flood through him. It's not long before he finds himself crumpled on the floor, trembling and unable to handle the intensity of this paradoxically painful yet hopeful song.

Looking up at someone passing by,]

Excuse... me. I. I'm. Sorry. Could you tell me... if Dorian is nearby? Dorian Gray, he's. He's here, somewhere, I think, isn't he?

[brushoff]

[ Whereas Toby's wracked with sobbing, Dorian's just wracked with ecstasy. Persephone's song is simultaneously so depressing and so hopeful but the thing that Dorian's taking away from it is that it's beautiful as hell. He looks past the words and looks past that feeling of depression sitting in the pit of his stomach and is swept away by the beauty.

So, as he sees Toby, he can't help but smile. His beautiful Toby, here among the beautiful music. Dorian scampers over to Toby, still smiling. ]

Isn't this wonderful?