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Rated: E · Draft · Music · #1186963
Just a random thought. If I do anything with it, it'll be a fanfiction
Screams rose and fell over the darkness and a keep pair of green eyes skimmed over the immense crown with a mild interest. Hands, faces, everything swayed drunkenly like the rolling waves of the sea.
Just like the insects these mere mortals were, with a twist of her lips she raised her hands up to caress the microphone with delicate fingers. She leaned forward, as if she were leaning into the kiss of a beloved, and her lips hovered just inches above the round front of the mic. She could feel the intensity around her, like the string of a guitar pulled to just right, ready to explode in sound. The eyes of her human spectators looked on in awe of the sight before them. They looked like deer in the headlights, and Aradia had to stifle a laugh. That would destroy the tension, and she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted it to go away.
She took in a deep breath, savoring the moment, and looked out at the nearest audience members. Best to let them think that they were special. Best to let them live in their fantasies at least for one night. She curled up her lips in a smile, and stood straight and tall for all to see the glory that was Aradia.
“Good evening to you.” She purred into the mic, pausing as the shrieks of her fans exploded into the air, like a lovers’ scream. She chuckled to herself and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Is everyone excited for tonight’s performance?”
The roar of cheers left her deaf for a moment. She shivered with her excitement, and stepped back from her place at the mic. Her eyes darted over to the man on her right, his hands poised on his guitar. She smiled briefly at him. The poor, sickly man that had tried so hard to achieve what could never be achieved. The man that had laid his life on the line for the woman he loved. The man that now would never be able to walk on his own two feet again. Lewis, the man that had given her the breath of life, now looked like little more than a sickly young man, with little more than the fire in his eyes to prove that he really lived. She smiled at him, though not with love. She knew that she didn’t “love” anything. Just as quickly as the smile had crossed her lips, it was gone, and she turned her attention back to her audience. Back to the humans who would soon not only be seduced by her looks but also by her voice.
Lewis ran the pick across the strings of his guitar, and signaled that the show was to begin. Aradia smiled and took the mic in both of her hands.
“Alright.” She murmured and closed her eyes. “You better hope you’re prepared for the hell you’re about to go through.” She grinned again, an almost sadistic look to her delicate face, and let the shrill cries of the mob echo in her ears. The lead guitar added with its own metallic screech, followed diligently by the bass guitar, then the percussion, and finally the keyboard. She swooned in the ecstasy of the music. Oh how the rifts and harmonies filled her to the brink and almost had her screaming in the pleasure of it all, and she moaned softly into the mic, her body pulled like a bowstring. She felt like a slave to the music. The music was her master now, and nothing, not life, not Lewis, nothing mattered.
“It begins now, you beasts.” She pressed her lips to the mic, and took in a breath.
Maybe the humans drooling at her feet, and her inability to drive off the seductions of the music weren’t that different after all. Maybe, just maybe they were the same to some extent.
© Copyright 2006 Erin White (fuyusakura at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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