Neko

The Artist



 
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 The Artist

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viperess

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Posts : 2554
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Location : In my underwear O.o

PostSubject: The Artist   Fri Apr 13, 2012 3:03 pm

The rain poured over the blacktop, pounding against the roof. The beat seemed to match with the rain, giving the song more of a natural tone to it. The drummer in the background pounded steadily, his rythym vibrating throughout the large room, poudning with the pulsing lights. The crowd quieted as guitar began to break through thye small beats of quiet between each drum snare. The drummer stopped, leaving the room in solid darkness, but the guitar kept going, the chords getting more rich and complicated. Piano picked up as the drum started up again, but then everything stopped except the piano.
A single light turned on the guitarist and the lead singer. The electric hung at her waist, ready to be played again, seeming eager to sound. Her voice rang through the hushed fans;
Ruuun! If you wanna survive to the night! Run! Don't stop until the light dies! She plucked strings on the guitar as the lights began to pulse again. The drummer picked up, and the piano riff grew more complicated. Her screams cut through the music, even though it still blared behind her. The logo behind the band read a single word, "Bloode."
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lilsuzu1

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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Fri Apr 13, 2012 5:53 pm

(Hey I'm not as good as you but I need the practise.. okay if I join?)
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Fri Apr 13, 2012 7:13 pm

[Of coarse!]
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sat Apr 14, 2012 2:16 am

(Thanks! I'll try my best to write a lot)
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sat Apr 14, 2012 2:34 am

Rebekah Van Helsing stood, still as stone, against a wall. Cool shadow cloaked her, clinging to her skin and rendering her almost invisible. She was tall and thin, with a waterfall of red curls cascading down her back. Her grey eyes observed the scene around her. As the room went dark, her eyes quickly adjusted to the black.
The comments of the guitarist seemed to amuse her. She did not run from danger, nor did she accept, work with or listen to threats from strangers that she didn't know. She sat down on a chair, making the simple movement as fluid as water, and began to polish a golden harp she had brought seemingly out of nowhere.
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sat Apr 14, 2012 12:18 pm

The song slowed for a moment, allowing the bridge. The heart breaks to easily. The light comes to quickly! We move too slowly! After a few more hurried verses and screams, the song ended. Her breath gasped into the microphone, in tune with the drum. The music stopped after her maniac laugh had broken through. The gig was up; so the cash practicly flew in her hands, thanks to the managers "generosity." The lights faded back to normal and the band began to pack up their stuff. Ania looked up and spotted a harp, sitting in the lap of a redhead who was seemingly unaffected by the heavy guitar and drum from the song. That was a rare sight; most people either headbanged and injured themselves jumping to the music or ran away covering their ears. Strange. Her eyes lingered on the stranger for the longest time, studying her. Was she deaf or something?
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sat Apr 14, 2012 2:14 pm

She polished the harp quickly with long, quick fingers. The harp began to shine golden. She polished it around once more and then placed her fingers on the strings and pulled back, creating a beautiful, high sound that highly contrasted to the heavy music that had just been blaring around the room. She continued to play with the strings, creating different notes and pitches, before she began to play a melody that sounded like a mixture of the saddest tunes ever played.
It wasnt long before she sighed and opened her mouth. Still looking down and still playing, she softly murmered
If my music offends you, I will stop.
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sat Apr 14, 2012 9:47 pm

I'm not offended; I'm practicly mystafied. Most people are somehwat affected by the music Bloode plays, if not the darkness we play in. You seem... Idunno, different. Her eyes glided towards the womans fingers, flying across the strings as her own did on the guitars. Her white shirt contrasted with her black jacket, leather pants, and sneakers. Her blue eyes were shining with the joy of music.

[Gehh. Crappy. No muse. Apologies.]
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sun Apr 15, 2012 3:14 am

On the contrary, my dear, I find your music very quiet compared to some of the noises that I have had to deal with.She sighed. The tune on her harp changed to play something close to a war tune, choppy and loose and about as low as the harp could physically go. She sighed again and then put the harp away, tucking it somewhere that most people couldnt see. Grey eyes looked up from under her hair and peered into the singers eyes. Her eyes seemed to freeze the room, dropping the tempereature and creating small icicles on some of the furniture.
Although your passion with your music impresses me greatly.

(Sokay :-) i have a permanent muse issue going on here)
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sun Apr 15, 2012 2:17 pm

Thanks, I guess. Its my stress releiver. I do it for the venting; but I love the sound too. If I don't have passion I have no music. And it was true. Passion was required for this sound; complicated guitar riffs required much practice. Loud screaming required a very strong throaght. Nearly every instrument played an important role; if you took away anything you were left with a hollow noise.
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PostSubject: Re: The Artist   Sun Apr 15, 2012 2:27 pm

She smiled. It looked unnatural somehow, like it took her a tremendous effort.
I can see that. If a group doesn't work as one, they may as well not work at all.
She got up in one smooth, graceful movement, the relaxed muscles uncoiling. Her arms stretched out behind her as she worked the stiffness from sitting for too long out of her muscles. Her hair fell in red curls almost down to the bottom of her back.
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