(*⌒▽⌒*)θ~♪
Okay I have two basic story idea outlines and we could even combine them should we feel so inclined. Most of the stuff I've written on this page is for the first plot, but I'm gonna work on some stuff as like proof of concept for the second today.
Story 1: The Kids Are Not Alright (i just needed a simple title to refer to)
Story outline:
- Nonanomalous cult discovers one of the scores, tries to complete and perform it or something
- I'm thinking there's a band of young adults in the cult that do music for the cult
- Personally I (oboe) wanna move away from the more explicit christian themes, or at least have them called into question more
Characters:
- Oisín - Oisín is a musician/music theory nerd with a rocky history with the church; he was raised in it his whole life then nearly banished from it just before he went off to college out of state. He's back and everyone is trying to smooth things over, but he's not ready to let go of the past.
- Instrument: I dunno, guitar and vocals?
- Katerina "Kat" - Kat is a headstrong but generally likable girl. She's incredibly friendly, but not naive and not afraid to speak her mind. She's basically the only one who still remains in contact with Oisín after the big fall out in high school.
- Instrument: Drums. 100% sure she plays drums
- Patrick - Patrick is the former best friend of Oisín. Something their senior year of high school, and he just wants to forgive and forget. (Also if we wanna include any sort of love story I'm 100% convinced he has a crush on Oisín).
- Instrument: Bass and vocals i guess
- Jonah?? - Idk in my test draft I named one of the kids Jonah. I think I said he plays guitar. Idk much about him yet.
I'll include more stuff in this as we get further i promise -oboe
The city stood tall and decadent. As those inside fell to chaos, the screaming only became quieter and more sporadic. This only made the situation more terrifying.
But Oisín could not stop writing. A quarter note here, a trill there, that note was missing an accidental. Shattered glass, the sound of seagulls, hot pinpricks, the bickering of thieves. Revising, audiating, revising. It had to be perfect.
And he could not be the one to make it perfect.
He didn’t realize he’d started crying until he saw the tears start to mingle with the blood on the page, diluting the potency and ruining his work. The shrieking came back, louder than before. He couldn’t. Vermillion, envy, more brass. It was too much. Key change, paranoia, pizzicato. He wasn’t worthy. Irrationality in every sense.
But he couldn’t stop. His patrons were watching. The Ambassador, the King, even the Saint. How many others had come before him? How many had given their life, their heart, their soul, their blood, just for him to come along and fuck it up? He’d never asked to die on the mount, he’d never wanted it. He’d only stolen that which was taken from him, why should he be punished? Why should Patrick be forgiven? And why the hell should the third be the one deified?
He slowly looked up. Katerina looked pack, her expression completely unreadable.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice inscrutable. Between his shallow breaths, her face seemed to shift and change, like there was something just underneath her skin trying to get out.
“It’s impossible,” he said, trying to find the words. “It’s impossible, I can’t… I can’t finish it, Kat.”
“No, Oisín,” she replied. “You’re the only one who can.”
Blood rained through the city, obscuring his vision as Katerina, the patrons, and the scores all faded from view, leaving him only with a familiar sound. It had to be written down. It had to be played.
A soft, rounded tone. One note, D, repeated. Staccato, but not short. Bursts of six, seven, eight, definitely eight, then silence. He wrote it down, trusting his pen would find the proper place in the score. Again, eight quick tones, then silence. Then again. Then again. Then…
Oisín scrunched his eyes tight before opening them for the morning. He slowly rolled over and started to understand what was happening. He grabbed his phone from beneath his pillow, looking at the name. He yawned as sat up, finally silencing the incessant ringing as he answered the facetime call.
“So I was trying to write this email to my professor and I just had to tell you because it may legit be the stupidest thing I’ve ever written,” Katerina said with no preamble. Oisín was used to this, but first thing in the morning, it was pretty disorienting.
“Mmhm,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Wait, did you like, just wake up or something?”
“Technically, you woke me up,” he said with a snarky smile. “That annoying ringtone that facetime does. Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.” He paused for effect. Kat was about to speak when he continued: “Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.” Kat waited longer this time, but he was done.
“That is like the mildest ringtone. And if you’re too lazy to change it, that’s on you my dude.” The two chuckled for a second.
“Frankly, I’m glad you woke me up. I was having a fucked up dream.”
“Oh yeah? What was it about?”
“Um… I’m honestly having a hard time remembering. I’m pretty sure you were in it. I just remember feeling scared. And…” He tried to remember the dream more vividly but he could only remember one thing. “Blood. I remember blood. Lots of blood.”
“Well that’s super creepy,” Kat said bluntly. “Maybe it was about your anemia?”
“Maybe? But I’ve had the treatment situation figured out for years. I’m not the freaked out little boy hearing about it for the first time. Why would I be having a dream about it now?”
“I dunno. Brains don’t make any sense, especially when it comes to dreams.”
“Yeah, well if nothing else I’ll have plenty of inspiration for creepy song lyrics.”
“When do you come back? I wanna harass you in person.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I don’t know if you’re gonna get to harass me that much, though. My family wants me to do work for the church while I’m back.”
“Whaaaaaat??? Weren’t you, like, excommunicated?”
“Not officially. And then my family ‘smoothed things over.’ Without telling me. So now I have to do shit for them.” He sighed. He’d been dealing with this all his life, the constant internal contradiction between loving his family and kind of fucking hating them. All his frustrations with them, with the church, they were constantly written off as disobedience, teenage angst, and recently ‘making the family look bad.’ He just wanted them to listen to him.
“Well, good news, we can get the band back together!” Kat said excitedly.
“Yeah, right,” Oisín scoffed. “You think Patrick’s ready to let go of that grudge?”
“Are you?” Kat countered. Oisín sighed. He didn’t blame Kat for remaining friends with everybody from high school. It just made things hard sometimes. “Look, the others miss you. Seriously. Despite all the dumb shit that happened, it’s been weird not having you around. And I promise, if you can behave with Patrick around, he won’t be too snarky.”
Oisín weighed the options.
"I'm honestly not sure if I wanna start the band back up, Kat. We split up for a reason."
"We split up because we were dealing with dumb teenage drama and because you decided to go to college out of state. Just say you'll think about it?"
"Whatever," Oisín said, shrugging. "Now what were you writing this professor about?"
[I wanna add one more scene here]
From: | Oisín <oc.liamj|seyenisio#oc.liamj|seyenisio> |
---|---|
To: | Kat <oc.liamj|taklook1#oc.liamj|taklook1> |
Subject: | can't fucken sleep |
e
Sent from the depths of the ocean
Attachments:
voice memo 56.m4a
Melody 14.png
Hey, Kat. I can’t sleep. I’m not really sure why. I want to sleep, but I’m just not tired. And I don’t wanna call you and wake you up. So… voice memo. Uh. There’s uh, there’s this melody I’ve been hearing in my head recently and I wanna share it with you. Maybe you can show it to the guys, and we can talk about turning it into something for the band. I thought about it, and I do wanna get the band back together because… God, I miss you guys. Even Patrick. I miss him so much, but… I know after everything that’s happened, things just can’t go back to the way they were. But maybe that doesn’t have to be bad. I guess we’ll see how it goes. Right. The melody. Uh, C… phrygian, i think? But theres a lot of chromatic stuff. [He sings a melody]. I’ll notate that out tomorrow morning. I don’t know, maybe Jonah can turn it into something cool on guitar. It’s just… [long pause] Does the word ‘Alagadda’ mean anything to you? Sorry, that’s… stupid, i think it’s from a dream. Sorry. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.