How else could we throw these two at each other?
Characters: Seiya and Shannon
Setting: Park near downtown area
Time: Afternoon
Summary: Random meeting is random and will hopefully lead to good conversation.
Warnings: None.
Exactly how Seiya ended up on top of that picnic table, he wasn't entirely sure. There had been some combination of spontaneous singing, dares, and an unwillingness amongst his small group of "friends" to do much anything else with their time today. Such was what could happen when going out with choir kids. They'd started out with some show tunes, casually harmonizing when they remembered how to do it, laughing when they tried and mushed the chords instead.
Somewhere in there the music of choice had turned to pop, someone had started humming "Billie Jean." One of the girls jabbed Seiya in the ribs with her elbow, and the four of them were jeering and clapping and vocalizing the background music and he took the lead, having an appropriately high, almost androgynous tenor.
Then he was up on that picnic table dancing, moonwalking across it. It was no Three Lights performance, but it was the closest he'd gotten in months, and it felt so good. Perhaps it was this sensation that made him forget himself, that made him slip his power into the music. The visions it imparted, if any, would be indistinct. A sense that there should be three, one of either side of him, physically and vocally, and couldn't anyone hear the chords that weren't there?
The others fell quiet, watching. And he sang, his voice young, but strong and sweet and clear.
Setting: Park near downtown area
Time: Afternoon
Summary: Random meeting is random and will hopefully lead to good conversation.
Warnings: None.
Exactly how Seiya ended up on top of that picnic table, he wasn't entirely sure. There had been some combination of spontaneous singing, dares, and an unwillingness amongst his small group of "friends" to do much anything else with their time today. Such was what could happen when going out with choir kids. They'd started out with some show tunes, casually harmonizing when they remembered how to do it, laughing when they tried and mushed the chords instead.
Somewhere in there the music of choice had turned to pop, someone had started humming "Billie Jean." One of the girls jabbed Seiya in the ribs with her elbow, and the four of them were jeering and clapping and vocalizing the background music and he took the lead, having an appropriately high, almost androgynous tenor.
Then he was up on that picnic table dancing, moonwalking across it. It was no Three Lights performance, but it was the closest he'd gotten in months, and it felt so good. Perhaps it was this sensation that made him forget himself, that made him slip his power into the music. The visions it imparted, if any, would be indistinct. A sense that there should be three, one of either side of him, physically and vocally, and couldn't anyone hear the chords that weren't there?
The others fell quiet, watching. And he sang, his voice young, but strong and sweet and clear.