the sun's setting gold
She Tells Her Love Now, by Robert Ranke Graves
She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
majochan drew me a picture request . . . CYBERPUNK OMG. I so win at life.
This is a random snippet of the AU I previously posted, Saiunkoku: Gravitation, one which occurs chronologically some time afterwards. It continues my somewhat disturbing amusement with the "bases" metaphor. majochan send me this convenient diagram explaining it, courtesy of the folks over at xkcd.
It qualifies for the "Rock Band" prompt from the March Madness Challenge over at saiunkoku_fic. Do help us out if you feel so inclined!
If you're curious about what the microphone looks like, here's a picture.
Gravitation: Microphone
"Lights, check. Pyrotechnics, check. Remember, people, this is the biggest concert to date-- it's gotta be good to justify the HEPP venue."
"You mean it has to be great," Kouyuu said with a shake of his newly-dyed aqua hair. "I want two double-keyboard XQVs up there this time, and the Bosendorfer."
"You'll have them," Shou nodded shortly. "Requests, Shuuei?"
"Just the usual. Oh, and don't set me on fire, I can do that plenty well myself." The handsome guitarist grinned, self-assured and easy. "Long as my backup's on the stand I'm good to go."
Shou didn't bother to note it down; Shuuei's backup blade was part of the standard setup. "Ryuuki?"
"Huh? Something special?" The lead singer snapped back to focus from where he'd been staring vacuously out the window. "Umm. Maybe a mike? Yeah, a mike would be good."
Shou tapped his pen on the equipment list. "You'll have the wireless box-- what do you need a mike for?"
"The box isn't cool at all," Ryuuki protested. "A mike is much better-- and not a wireless one, a corded one."
"You want a corded mike?" Kouyuu frowned. "What are we going to do when you trip on the cord and fall off the stage?"
"Hey! What do you mean 'when?'" Ryuuki folded his arms and glowered. "I'm not a klutz!"
"You trip on the straps of your pants about three times a day," Shuuei pointed out. "What do you want to be tied down with a mike for, anyway? You're usually all over the place."
"I think it'll be good," Ryuuki said, vague as ever. "Oh, and not just any mike-- I want a Unidyne II."
"You want to go on stage with an antique?" Shou raised his eyebrows.
"If it was good enough for Elvis, it's good enough for me!" Ryuuki nodded definitely and crossed his arms.
Kouyuu was looking torn over who he should smack, himself or one of his band mates. He settled for Ryuuki. "Elvis was more than 50 years ago, dumbass! What kind of lame dork still listens to Elvis?"
"I do!" Ryuuki protested indignantly. "He was great!"
"Enough, you two," Shou said. He was sitting back in his chair, his shrewd eyes thoughtful on the band's lead. "Very well, you'll have your microphone. Shure makes a modern version, but the look is the same-- that okay?"
Ryuuki brought his arms down from defending his abused head and nodded. "Long as the pickup's good, that's great."
"No interference with the speakers with the new model," Shou nodded briskly. "I'll have a word with the tech crew and organizers. The limo will come by as usual to deliver you to makeup and wardrobe-- the rest is up to you."
* * * * * *
Setup for the concert went without a hitch. Ryuuki was his usual pre-concert self-- that is, preternaturally calm, even subdued. He slumped bonelessly into a chair backstage, his eyes closed. Shuuei tuned and then re-tuned his guitar; Kouyuu played endless and soundless chord progressions in the air.
"Time!" Shou said, and Ryuuki's eyes instantly snapped open. The sudden, scary intensity in them had freaked all of them out the first couple of concerts, but now they were used to it. Kouyuu and Shuuei followed him out and took their places in the darkness. A single light blinked on over Ryuuki's microphone, standing alone at the front of the stage: its retro curves gleamed in the harsh, sudden light. Something about that blinding image cast a spell over the packed-in crowd. Voices died, screams of anticipation echoed into nothing.
Incredibly, the silence held as Ryuuki stepped into the light, as Kouyuu's fingers danced the first notes from the keys. Shuuei positioned himself in the darkness as Ryuuki opened his mouth, sang the opening lines into the curved metal body of the mike-- and then he slammed down the first power chord at the very moment that the lights flared blindingly.
The audience was not silent again for the rest of the concert. Kouyuu was the rock-solid foundation of their music, brilliant and perfectly timed. Shuuei knew that he was dead-on, too, but this time no one was looking at him, not even when he was hitting the soul-searing solo riffs that normally brought him all eyes, if only for a little while. But then, he was having a hard time not staring, himself.
Ryuuki didn't leave the microphone for a moment, and didn't need to. He didn't have to perform any acrobatics to keep audience attention, because what he did with the microphone was more than enough. He cupped it in his hands, delicately, and whispered to it. He wrapped his arm around the silver stand in a sensual spiral. He slid the burnished metal across his cheek and down his neck, along his skin to the open collar of his shirt. He arched backwards to bring his whole body against the straight pole. He wound the black cord around his arm and in between his long fingers, clenching them into a fist in front of him. He held it possessively close, resting in the hollow of his shoulder as his hands moved up and down the stand.
At some point towards the end he muscled out of his sweat-soaked buttondown shirt-- one-handed, because apparently he couldn't bear to be out of contact with the mike for even a moment. At that point Shuuei figured it was pretty much incidental-- it didn't seem like the audience could scream any louder, even if Ryuuki was stripping on stage. Going up to join him for the choruses of the next song was probably also incidental, but Shuuei did it anyway, leaning in so both of their faces were close to the pickup, and closing his eyes for good measure.
It turned out that the audience could scream louder.
* * * * * *
They finally made it offstage after the second encore, standing in a slight daze among the electric cords and plywood crates and frantically running stage crew.
"So," Ryuuki said brightly. "I think that went well." He had forgotten his shirt on stage.
"That-- that was-- that--" Kouyuu apparently didn't know what to say.
"Good work!" Shou came out of nowhere and walloped Shuuei on the back. "Was that your idea, Shuuei?"
"I definitely didn't tell him to make love to his microphone for two hours," Shuuei said, his voice a little strangled.
"Well, it was great! Hakumei!" Shou spied the young photographer walking by in a daze. "Hakumei, my boy, tell me that the camera crew caught all of that. Tell me that you were taking pictures."
Hakumei nodded. "Five gig's worth," he said, clutching his camera. He caught sight of Ryuuki and promptly went red to the tips of his ears.
"Excellent! We're going to the publicity department now. I want posters. A photobook. T-shirts. A DVD special. I want all of it tomorrow. Get some rest, and for god's sake take a shower!" Shou called back to them over his shoulder, already trotting Hakumei out the door to the loading docks.
"How long do you think they'll keep screaming?" Shuuei murmured, wondering at the noise still filtering back from the auditorium. "We already did two encores."
"I think they liked it," Ryuuki said, beaming. "Maybe I'll try that again next time."
"You will not," Kouyuu said. "That was dirty."
"Hey, it was not!" Ryuuki cried. "And anyway, it was consensual!"
"How can you have consensual sex on stage with a microphone?" Kouyuu roared back.
"That is so not what happened! You can't even get to second base with a microphone!"
"Second base, nothing. I think you were well on your way to third," Shuuei noted.
"Do none of you have sense?" Seiran was there abruptly as always, draping a blanket over Ryuuki's bare shoulders and giving both Shuuei and Kouyuu one of his patented death glares. "Do you want him to catch a cold?"
"I want him to refrain from molesting inanimate objects on stage!" Kouyuu shouted, and stomped off to see to his piano.
She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
majochan drew me a picture request . . . CYBERPUNK OMG. I so win at life.
This is a random snippet of the AU I previously posted, Saiunkoku: Gravitation, one which occurs chronologically some time afterwards. It continues my somewhat disturbing amusement with the "bases" metaphor. majochan send me this convenient diagram explaining it, courtesy of the folks over at xkcd.
It qualifies for the "Rock Band" prompt from the March Madness Challenge over at saiunkoku_fic. Do help us out if you feel so inclined!
If you're curious about what the microphone looks like, here's a picture.
Gravitation: Microphone
"Lights, check. Pyrotechnics, check. Remember, people, this is the biggest concert to date-- it's gotta be good to justify the HEPP venue."
"You mean it has to be great," Kouyuu said with a shake of his newly-dyed aqua hair. "I want two double-keyboard XQVs up there this time, and the Bosendorfer."
"You'll have them," Shou nodded shortly. "Requests, Shuuei?"
"Just the usual. Oh, and don't set me on fire, I can do that plenty well myself." The handsome guitarist grinned, self-assured and easy. "Long as my backup's on the stand I'm good to go."
Shou didn't bother to note it down; Shuuei's backup blade was part of the standard setup. "Ryuuki?"
"Huh? Something special?" The lead singer snapped back to focus from where he'd been staring vacuously out the window. "Umm. Maybe a mike? Yeah, a mike would be good."
Shou tapped his pen on the equipment list. "You'll have the wireless box-- what do you need a mike for?"
"The box isn't cool at all," Ryuuki protested. "A mike is much better-- and not a wireless one, a corded one."
"You want a corded mike?" Kouyuu frowned. "What are we going to do when you trip on the cord and fall off the stage?"
"Hey! What do you mean 'when?'" Ryuuki folded his arms and glowered. "I'm not a klutz!"
"You trip on the straps of your pants about three times a day," Shuuei pointed out. "What do you want to be tied down with a mike for, anyway? You're usually all over the place."
"I think it'll be good," Ryuuki said, vague as ever. "Oh, and not just any mike-- I want a Unidyne II."
"You want to go on stage with an antique?" Shou raised his eyebrows.
"If it was good enough for Elvis, it's good enough for me!" Ryuuki nodded definitely and crossed his arms.
Kouyuu was looking torn over who he should smack, himself or one of his band mates. He settled for Ryuuki. "Elvis was more than 50 years ago, dumbass! What kind of lame dork still listens to Elvis?"
"I do!" Ryuuki protested indignantly. "He was great!"
"Enough, you two," Shou said. He was sitting back in his chair, his shrewd eyes thoughtful on the band's lead. "Very well, you'll have your microphone. Shure makes a modern version, but the look is the same-- that okay?"
Ryuuki brought his arms down from defending his abused head and nodded. "Long as the pickup's good, that's great."
"No interference with the speakers with the new model," Shou nodded briskly. "I'll have a word with the tech crew and organizers. The limo will come by as usual to deliver you to makeup and wardrobe-- the rest is up to you."
* * * * * *
Setup for the concert went without a hitch. Ryuuki was his usual pre-concert self-- that is, preternaturally calm, even subdued. He slumped bonelessly into a chair backstage, his eyes closed. Shuuei tuned and then re-tuned his guitar; Kouyuu played endless and soundless chord progressions in the air.
"Time!" Shou said, and Ryuuki's eyes instantly snapped open. The sudden, scary intensity in them had freaked all of them out the first couple of concerts, but now they were used to it. Kouyuu and Shuuei followed him out and took their places in the darkness. A single light blinked on over Ryuuki's microphone, standing alone at the front of the stage: its retro curves gleamed in the harsh, sudden light. Something about that blinding image cast a spell over the packed-in crowd. Voices died, screams of anticipation echoed into nothing.
Incredibly, the silence held as Ryuuki stepped into the light, as Kouyuu's fingers danced the first notes from the keys. Shuuei positioned himself in the darkness as Ryuuki opened his mouth, sang the opening lines into the curved metal body of the mike-- and then he slammed down the first power chord at the very moment that the lights flared blindingly.
The audience was not silent again for the rest of the concert. Kouyuu was the rock-solid foundation of their music, brilliant and perfectly timed. Shuuei knew that he was dead-on, too, but this time no one was looking at him, not even when he was hitting the soul-searing solo riffs that normally brought him all eyes, if only for a little while. But then, he was having a hard time not staring, himself.
Ryuuki didn't leave the microphone for a moment, and didn't need to. He didn't have to perform any acrobatics to keep audience attention, because what he did with the microphone was more than enough. He cupped it in his hands, delicately, and whispered to it. He wrapped his arm around the silver stand in a sensual spiral. He slid the burnished metal across his cheek and down his neck, along his skin to the open collar of his shirt. He arched backwards to bring his whole body against the straight pole. He wound the black cord around his arm and in between his long fingers, clenching them into a fist in front of him. He held it possessively close, resting in the hollow of his shoulder as his hands moved up and down the stand.
At some point towards the end he muscled out of his sweat-soaked buttondown shirt-- one-handed, because apparently he couldn't bear to be out of contact with the mike for even a moment. At that point Shuuei figured it was pretty much incidental-- it didn't seem like the audience could scream any louder, even if Ryuuki was stripping on stage. Going up to join him for the choruses of the next song was probably also incidental, but Shuuei did it anyway, leaning in so both of their faces were close to the pickup, and closing his eyes for good measure.
It turned out that the audience could scream louder.
* * * * * *
They finally made it offstage after the second encore, standing in a slight daze among the electric cords and plywood crates and frantically running stage crew.
"So," Ryuuki said brightly. "I think that went well." He had forgotten his shirt on stage.
"That-- that was-- that--" Kouyuu apparently didn't know what to say.
"Good work!" Shou came out of nowhere and walloped Shuuei on the back. "Was that your idea, Shuuei?"
"I definitely didn't tell him to make love to his microphone for two hours," Shuuei said, his voice a little strangled.
"Well, it was great! Hakumei!" Shou spied the young photographer walking by in a daze. "Hakumei, my boy, tell me that the camera crew caught all of that. Tell me that you were taking pictures."
Hakumei nodded. "Five gig's worth," he said, clutching his camera. He caught sight of Ryuuki and promptly went red to the tips of his ears.
"Excellent! We're going to the publicity department now. I want posters. A photobook. T-shirts. A DVD special. I want all of it tomorrow. Get some rest, and for god's sake take a shower!" Shou called back to them over his shoulder, already trotting Hakumei out the door to the loading docks.
"How long do you think they'll keep screaming?" Shuuei murmured, wondering at the noise still filtering back from the auditorium. "We already did two encores."
"I think they liked it," Ryuuki said, beaming. "Maybe I'll try that again next time."
"You will not," Kouyuu said. "That was dirty."
"Hey, it was not!" Ryuuki cried. "And anyway, it was consensual!"
"How can you have consensual sex on stage with a microphone?" Kouyuu roared back.
"That is so not what happened! You can't even get to second base with a microphone!"
"Second base, nothing. I think you were well on your way to third," Shuuei noted.
"Do none of you have sense?" Seiran was there abruptly as always, draping a blanket over Ryuuki's bare shoulders and giving both Shuuei and Kouyuu one of his patented death glares. "Do you want him to catch a cold?"
"I want him to refrain from molesting inanimate objects on stage!" Kouyuu shouted, and stomped off to see to his piano.