August 1 - Watch Me
Title: Watch Me (Take Control)
Series: Watch Me
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Tin Man
Character(s): Oz, Azkadellia, Ahamo
Rating: FR-13/PG
Summary: "Surprise you to find that I'm laughing? While you were busy destroying my life what was half in me has become whole." Poe
Length: ~1790 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate. The song quoted below is my own original work.
Notes: earlier stories in the series found here.
Notes2: I've been writing this since post-midnight. That's probably why it's a mess.
***
They've been in the road a year when the OZ press pick up on it. Ahamo has come from Central City to celebrate his elder daughter's tenacity and success. DG would come, but it's hard to get away from royal duties.
He and Oz were sitting in a cafe, waiting for Azkadellia to come down from the little apartment they'd rented for the two weeks instead of trying to find decent, cheap accommodations in every tiny town they were playing in the area. Ahamo had pulled the newspaper out of his waistcoat moments after their coffee was delivered. "Look at this," he'd said. And then when it was clear Oz had finished, he said, "We can't let her see this."
Oz shook his head. "We promised each other no secrets in the band. She has a right to see this."
Splashed across the front of the Oz's arts and entertainment section was a picture of them onstage with the words POOR PRINCESS emblazed across Az's body. Her face was twisted with emotion, her head low, eyes closed, and the mic pulled intimately close with one hand as the clenched fist of the other pressed against her chest. The worm's eye-view photo nearly lost Oz entirely. What could be seen of his face watched Azkadellia intently.
Oz thought he knew which song she'd been singing when that shot was taken. If he was right, Azkadellia's eyes opened blazing fire as the song went into the next movement.
Nodding to himself, Oz read the actual article. He was vaguely aware of Ahamo drinking his coffee and eating on the other side of the paper, but the Prince Consort let him read uninterrupted.
When he was done, Oz set the paper down between them. "She has a right to know what people are saying about her. She has a right not to be taken by surprise at a concert, or backstage after one."
"What's happening backstage?" Az asked as she sat between her father and guard-turned-bandmate.
"Az, sweetheart, it's nothing worth--" Ahamo started, but Oz cut him off by flipping the paper so that the photo was face up and pushing it towards her. At the other man's furious glare, Oz said, "No secrets in the band."
Ahamo had already ordered the his daughter, so he signaled to their waitress to bring it out. It was sitting in front of her when she lifted her head. Reaching for her fork, she said, "There's not a lot here about the band. It mostly takes shots at the family. And the witch, of course.
"Then again there's nothing wrong with the band," she added with a smirk before taking a bite of her breakfast.
Ahamo sighed. "Az, there's nothing wrong with you or the family. I'll have the paper print a formal apology when I get back to Central City."
"No." Azkadellia put her hand over the top of her father's coffee cup. "There was no free press under the witch. Let them have their opinions. We were never doing this to be famous or popular."
Ahamo took his daughter's hand and kissed it. "Okay."
Oz, silently eating his breakfast, noted that Az hadn't actually agreed with her father that there was nothing wrong either with her or the House of Gale.
Their waitress came back just then, all solicitous smiles. "Everything okay here?"
"Sure," Oz said, answering for them all. "Maybe another round of coffee?"
"Can do! It looks like you guys could do with fresh cups, so I'll just--"
The moment she connected the still face-up article to the people at her table was nearly comical. "You're Princess Azkadellia."
She was behind Az but the princess was in her uniform: army green jacket over closely fitted black pantsuit and her distinctive short hair. Twisting to be seen clearly, she pasted on a polite smile and nodded. "I am. This is my father, Prince Consort Ahamo, and my badmate, Oz."
The waitress suddenly grinned and pulled out her order pad. "I can't believe I served breakfast to Shield For My Eyes. Can I get your autograph? I really like your music, but my roommate loves you guys. Like really, really loves you guys!"
Azkadellia's cheeks pinked as the reached for the pad and pen in the young woman's hands. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Kaydeen and Claire. Actually, just make it out to Kaydeen. She'll just black my name out and pretend it was just for her all along," she said, laughing.
Azkadellia scribbled out a message, signing it with a flourish, then flipped the page and signed another. "Now you both have."
The waitress' face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you so much! I'll just take these coffee cups. If they weren't cold and gross before, they definitely are now!"
As the young woman, Claire, turned to go Azkadellia said, "You probably know this already but we're performing in town at the end of the week.
"I know! It's all Kay can talk about, but rent is due this week too and… But meeting you totally makes up for it!"
***
When Oz had first landed in the OZ, he'd been astounded by it's incredible jazz scene. From what he had observed, rock n' roll had never splintered off from the genre. Subgenres of jazz had flourished instead, including the loosely defined alternative jazz that Shield For My Eyes had been practicing and playing for more than two years.
I hope you're reading this over my shoulder
I hope I'm a mystery that takes you over
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
It was the last show in the area -- the last show for the month, in fact -- but Az had found time to add a new song to their regular set. So far their audience had been receptive.
Darling I'm gonna puzzle you all of my days
Until your friend Sleep becomes your great enemy
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
Oz noticed that there also seemed to be a stronger female presence at show their shows. Many of the young women sported variations on Azkadellia's uniform: an army green jacket here, a severe bob-cut there, tailored black trousers with equally close-during black tops or even the entire pantsuit. Many of their male fans sported the utilitarian boots he and Az wore to spare their feet and backs more strain than necessary as they acted as their own roadies. He wondered if their fans would have also embraced the back braces they sometimes wore under their clothes be if they knew about them.
Or you could let me go
I'll even tell everyone I know
That you figured me out
Yes
There're no more doubts
You were never amazed
Never amazed
He and Az had agreed to reserve the song for an encore, assuming anyone asked for one.
Every night there was at least one request for an encore if not two. They sometimes spent months without an encore, happy to have captured the attention of anyone not yet drunk at the bar. By the third packed show, with it's fangirls and -boys, and it's two encore requests, Az was grinning pink stained cheeks.
"Should we send the Central City Gazette a heartfelt letter?" she'd asked Oz as he checked the tuning on his guitar before playing their new song. Her back had been to the audience and the mic pointed away from her face.
Oz's eyebrows had gone up as he strummed the opening chords. "I thought this was your heartfelt letter."
She'd turned to their audience, laughing.
Now, at the last stop on their tour before they took a much needed break, they seemed to be playing to a room full of clones. Not only were there a number of Azkadellias, but a few Ozes in the various style incarnations he'd had during their tour. For the first time, however, he noticed a number of their female fans with metal glinting from their foreheads. Some were clearly little tiaras, but many weren't as obvious.
I suppose you must have your way
But darling I am here to stay
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
Oz felt Az’s eyes on him as he picked an intricate version of the last chord on his guitar. She turned to their audience as the last note faded into the air. “Thank you and goodnight!”
The roar that went up from the audience staggered even Oz.
Ten minutes later the slightly less sweaty versions of themselves were mingling with their fans and signing autographs.
Oz noticed Claire, the waitress from the café near the apartment they were renting, before she reached them. He caught Az’s eye, indicating with a look that someone was approaching her from behind.
“Princess Azkadellia?” She beamed when the princess turned to her. “We made it!”
“Claire, right? And this is your friend Kaydeen?”
“Yeah, this is Kay. She’s too overwhelmed to speak right now.”
Kay smacked her friend’s arm then waved at Az. Who smiled at her kindly. “I’m so glad you could both make it. But I thought that wasn’t really possible,” she said, politely alluding to their financial situation.
Beaming, Claire and Kay flashed their ticket stubs at the princess. “The Prince Consort comped us tickets,” Claire said.
An answering smile blossomed on Azkadellia’s face. “That’s wonderful. I’ll have to thank him when I see him next.”
“Hey…” Oz said. “Um…what’s in your hair? I noticed a few of the girls in the audience wearing them.”
“They’re crowns, Oz,” Azkadellia answered.
“Um, they don’t look very crown-like to me.”
“They’re circlets,” Claire said.
Kay said, “We started wearing them to show our support.”
Azkadellia and Oz shared a look. “May I ask what you’re supporting?” Az said.
“You, Princess. After that Central City Gazette article, we wanted to show our support,” Kaydeen said as Claire nodded. She added, “We started calling ourselves Poor Princesses. You don’t mind do you?”
“I’m touched. Thank you.”
Blushing furiously, both women handed Az and Oz the items they wanted to be signed (“Something less likely to accidentally get thrown out with the receipts in on the kitchen table.”) then said their goodbyes. Azkadellia watched them slip into the crowd, then leaned close to Oz. “Maybe we should send the Gazette a bouquet of roses. To show our gratitude.”
Then someone else was tapping her arm, and they continued on.
Fin[ite]
Series: Watch Me
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Tin Man
Character(s): Oz, Azkadellia, Ahamo
Rating: FR-13/PG
Summary: "Surprise you to find that I'm laughing? While you were busy destroying my life what was half in me has become whole." Poe
Length: ~1790 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate. The song quoted below is my own original work.
Notes: earlier stories in the series found here.
Notes2: I've been writing this since post-midnight. That's probably why it's a mess.
***
They've been in the road a year when the OZ press pick up on it. Ahamo has come from Central City to celebrate his elder daughter's tenacity and success. DG would come, but it's hard to get away from royal duties.
He and Oz were sitting in a cafe, waiting for Azkadellia to come down from the little apartment they'd rented for the two weeks instead of trying to find decent, cheap accommodations in every tiny town they were playing in the area. Ahamo had pulled the newspaper out of his waistcoat moments after their coffee was delivered. "Look at this," he'd said. And then when it was clear Oz had finished, he said, "We can't let her see this."
Oz shook his head. "We promised each other no secrets in the band. She has a right to see this."
Splashed across the front of the Oz's arts and entertainment section was a picture of them onstage with the words POOR PRINCESS emblazed across Az's body. Her face was twisted with emotion, her head low, eyes closed, and the mic pulled intimately close with one hand as the clenched fist of the other pressed against her chest. The worm's eye-view photo nearly lost Oz entirely. What could be seen of his face watched Azkadellia intently.
Oz thought he knew which song she'd been singing when that shot was taken. If he was right, Azkadellia's eyes opened blazing fire as the song went into the next movement.
Nodding to himself, Oz read the actual article. He was vaguely aware of Ahamo drinking his coffee and eating on the other side of the paper, but the Prince Consort let him read uninterrupted.
When he was done, Oz set the paper down between them. "She has a right to know what people are saying about her. She has a right not to be taken by surprise at a concert, or backstage after one."
"What's happening backstage?" Az asked as she sat between her father and guard-turned-bandmate.
"Az, sweetheart, it's nothing worth--" Ahamo started, but Oz cut him off by flipping the paper so that the photo was face up and pushing it towards her. At the other man's furious glare, Oz said, "No secrets in the band."
Ahamo had already ordered the his daughter, so he signaled to their waitress to bring it out. It was sitting in front of her when she lifted her head. Reaching for her fork, she said, "There's not a lot here about the band. It mostly takes shots at the family. And the witch, of course.
"Then again there's nothing wrong with the band," she added with a smirk before taking a bite of her breakfast.
Ahamo sighed. "Az, there's nothing wrong with you or the family. I'll have the paper print a formal apology when I get back to Central City."
"No." Azkadellia put her hand over the top of her father's coffee cup. "There was no free press under the witch. Let them have their opinions. We were never doing this to be famous or popular."
Ahamo took his daughter's hand and kissed it. "Okay."
Oz, silently eating his breakfast, noted that Az hadn't actually agreed with her father that there was nothing wrong either with her or the House of Gale.
Their waitress came back just then, all solicitous smiles. "Everything okay here?"
"Sure," Oz said, answering for them all. "Maybe another round of coffee?"
"Can do! It looks like you guys could do with fresh cups, so I'll just--"
The moment she connected the still face-up article to the people at her table was nearly comical. "You're Princess Azkadellia."
She was behind Az but the princess was in her uniform: army green jacket over closely fitted black pantsuit and her distinctive short hair. Twisting to be seen clearly, she pasted on a polite smile and nodded. "I am. This is my father, Prince Consort Ahamo, and my badmate, Oz."
The waitress suddenly grinned and pulled out her order pad. "I can't believe I served breakfast to Shield For My Eyes. Can I get your autograph? I really like your music, but my roommate loves you guys. Like really, really loves you guys!"
Azkadellia's cheeks pinked as the reached for the pad and pen in the young woman's hands. "Who should I make it out to?"
"Kaydeen and Claire. Actually, just make it out to Kaydeen. She'll just black my name out and pretend it was just for her all along," she said, laughing.
Azkadellia scribbled out a message, signing it with a flourish, then flipped the page and signed another. "Now you both have."
The waitress' face flushed with pleasure. "Thank you so much! I'll just take these coffee cups. If they weren't cold and gross before, they definitely are now!"
As the young woman, Claire, turned to go Azkadellia said, "You probably know this already but we're performing in town at the end of the week.
"I know! It's all Kay can talk about, but rent is due this week too and… But meeting you totally makes up for it!"
***
When Oz had first landed in the OZ, he'd been astounded by it's incredible jazz scene. From what he had observed, rock n' roll had never splintered off from the genre. Subgenres of jazz had flourished instead, including the loosely defined alternative jazz that Shield For My Eyes had been practicing and playing for more than two years.
I hope you're reading this over my shoulder
I hope I'm a mystery that takes you over
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
It was the last show in the area -- the last show for the month, in fact -- but Az had found time to add a new song to their regular set. So far their audience had been receptive.
Darling I'm gonna puzzle you all of my days
Until your friend Sleep becomes your great enemy
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
Oz noticed that there also seemed to be a stronger female presence at show their shows. Many of the young women sported variations on Azkadellia's uniform: an army green jacket here, a severe bob-cut there, tailored black trousers with equally close-during black tops or even the entire pantsuit. Many of their male fans sported the utilitarian boots he and Az wore to spare their feet and backs more strain than necessary as they acted as their own roadies. He wondered if their fans would have also embraced the back braces they sometimes wore under their clothes be if they knew about them.
Or you could let me go
I'll even tell everyone I know
That you figured me out
Yes
There're no more doubts
You were never amazed
Never amazed
He and Az had agreed to reserve the song for an encore, assuming anyone asked for one.
Every night there was at least one request for an encore if not two. They sometimes spent months without an encore, happy to have captured the attention of anyone not yet drunk at the bar. By the third packed show, with it's fangirls and -boys, and it's two encore requests, Az was grinning pink stained cheeks.
"Should we send the Central City Gazette a heartfelt letter?" she'd asked Oz as he checked the tuning on his guitar before playing their new song. Her back had been to the audience and the mic pointed away from her face.
Oz's eyebrows had gone up as he strummed the opening chords. "I thought this was your heartfelt letter."
She'd turned to their audience, laughing.
Now, at the last stop on their tour before they took a much needed break, they seemed to be playing to a room full of clones. Not only were there a number of Azkadellias, but a few Ozes in the various style incarnations he'd had during their tour. For the first time, however, he noticed a number of their female fans with metal glinting from their foreheads. Some were clearly little tiaras, but many weren't as obvious.
I suppose you must have your way
But darling I am here to stay
Cause I've been bent, I've been broken
I've been unmade
I've been molded
But you won't see me
No you won't see me hiding anymore
Oz felt Az’s eyes on him as he picked an intricate version of the last chord on his guitar. She turned to their audience as the last note faded into the air. “Thank you and goodnight!”
The roar that went up from the audience staggered even Oz.
Ten minutes later the slightly less sweaty versions of themselves were mingling with their fans and signing autographs.
Oz noticed Claire, the waitress from the café near the apartment they were renting, before she reached them. He caught Az’s eye, indicating with a look that someone was approaching her from behind.
“Princess Azkadellia?” She beamed when the princess turned to her. “We made it!”
“Claire, right? And this is your friend Kaydeen?”
“Yeah, this is Kay. She’s too overwhelmed to speak right now.”
Kay smacked her friend’s arm then waved at Az. Who smiled at her kindly. “I’m so glad you could both make it. But I thought that wasn’t really possible,” she said, politely alluding to their financial situation.
Beaming, Claire and Kay flashed their ticket stubs at the princess. “The Prince Consort comped us tickets,” Claire said.
An answering smile blossomed on Azkadellia’s face. “That’s wonderful. I’ll have to thank him when I see him next.”
“Hey…” Oz said. “Um…what’s in your hair? I noticed a few of the girls in the audience wearing them.”
“They’re crowns, Oz,” Azkadellia answered.
“Um, they don’t look very crown-like to me.”
“They’re circlets,” Claire said.
Kay said, “We started wearing them to show our support.”
Azkadellia and Oz shared a look. “May I ask what you’re supporting?” Az said.
“You, Princess. After that Central City Gazette article, we wanted to show our support,” Kaydeen said as Claire nodded. She added, “We started calling ourselves Poor Princesses. You don’t mind do you?”
“I’m touched. Thank you.”
Blushing furiously, both women handed Az and Oz the items they wanted to be signed (“Something less likely to accidentally get thrown out with the receipts in on the kitchen table.”) then said their goodbyes. Azkadellia watched them slip into the crowd, then leaned close to Oz. “Maybe we should send the Gazette a bouquet of roses. To show our gratitude.”
Then someone else was tapping her arm, and they continued on.
Fin[ite]