a winter labyrinth

[townmusician]

断ち切るしかないんだろ
注いだ冬は心のラビリンス
後戻りなんて出来ないから
やりきるしかないんだろ
黒い気持ちと手を繋いだって構わない
抱きしめたっていいh

I have to break free
This pouring winter is my heart's labyrinth
I can't go back anymore, so
I have to finish this
I don't care if you took my hand with dark motives
I want you to hold me close

Comments

[prozaic]

[IT'S TIME.

Shalem gives the shadow a nod, before he gets up on stage. But he doesn't take a soundcheck-- no, he does something else. He quickly picks a slower, softer song from the playlist on the system, one suited for his preferences, and starts to shed some of his layers. Katana, his regular jacket, the pilfered jacket, shoes, socks, even his shirt, baring scarred skin stretched over large muscles, and a scattering of small black crystals growing out of his chest and the left side of his neck.

Then he stands at a corner of the stage, feet comfortable due to the lights Schneider turned on warming the stage.]

Haruka, I hope you're watching, else I make a fool of myself for nothing.

[Then he begins.

As a stage performer, Shalem doesn't merely dance, but acts. He is a body on stage, a role to be performed, a doll waiting for a script-- and right now, the lyrics are his script. Every move, jete, pirouette, prance and even drop has weight behind it, and his tail doesn't flail around, it curves and curls with him. His expression is anguished, pained, whatever the song requires of him.

When it's over, he's flushed and winded, his feet are sore without any padding and he's sure he's developing new callouses, he hasn't danced this hard in so long, even if ballet is one of his best styles. But he forces himself to finish properly, standing straight and holding his arms up, feet together as if awaiting the clapping of his audience. He holds it for just a few seconds, then slinks off to get dressed again.

The shadow gave him five minutes. He finishes in four.

Hopefully Shadow Haruka likes this offering. (19)]

[townmusician]

[It's when he's pulling his jacket on that he can see a flash of gold at the edge of the stage, but... there's nobody there. If Haruka saw his performance, there's no sign of him around.

Still, there's the feeling of something pressing down on his shoulders, even though he can't see what it is, and there's no marks left on his skin or clothing.

His performance was seen, though. Whether it was appreciated or not... well, he can always ask if he ever gets to see Haruka face to face again.]