rose wine.

Thunderous love

The world can fade away into thunder and passion. The door is there, set on stands and wrapped with silk roses. The dreary rain beats upon the window with a desperate tapping, drumming out an incoherent rhythm while the wind picks up the melody.

He does not want to go to his drums. Even now, Machi stands there, staring at them with blank eyes. They are pulling him, calling him, begging him to release his anger, passion, and tears through their workings. They are storm-sirens, and he the lusty Jove who must make them boom and sound.

The color has drained out of his already lightly-powdered face - powder and only powder today. His long red hair, held back elegantly in a waving ponytail, has let loose the perpetual wide chunk near his right eye. Hands that wipe moisture off on black jeans reach out towards the instrument; steps guide him towards his drumset and command him to sit. He obeys with hesitation.

The storm is picking up and beginning to utter a cadence from far off. At the distant peal of thunder, Machi's eyes gain a sort of distant, hypnotized clarity, as if he saw a glimpse of another world. He lifts his drumsticks.

It is with hope of relief that he begins a simple beat. If he should tire of it, he would be free... and yet... if he lets his fingers dance, he will be alive. He begins to drum somewhat more powerfully to overcome the noise of the rain. As he drums, his thoughts wander again to the worries of his night.

He can feel the end approaching. The Elysium of Lareine cannot last
forever... but the end need not be now. It need not be soon. It can hold together, but he can feel its murderer closing in fast... a murderer he still yet loves as he loves the others...


Machi is unaware of the drums' command. As tears threaten to well in his eyes, he unconsciously picks up the pace of his beat. The thunder rumbles outside as if in competition, but Machi is unrelenting; he lets loose the torrent of his rhythm-song in heart-thumping tribal cadence that is far more its own music than back-up for a song.

His vision flashes and he can see and feel the warmth of fire, the passion of dance, the whirl of skirts, the sweat, the breath, the pain and the delirium. His hands move effortlessly, mindlessly from note to note, and they puppet him far more than he is their master. But the thunder still challenges, and so Machi still strikes with sure and violent strokes.

The flash of fire, the scent of perfume, the beat of drums that echo the heart. A rose's light in ebony hair on a head that whirls in the chaotic wind fueled by the dance.

He can feel the trance becoming more intoxicating. He is lost, completely lost within his own anger and grief, unaware of the few silent tears rolling down his ashen cheeks.


Only the thunder answers his call, a thunder which he beats back with his song.


The rose is falling from the ebony hair and landing on the hot ash. As it smoulders, flickers, and withers, Machi can feel its burning pain throughout his breast.


His final note and the loud crack of thunder overhead simultaneously break him from his spell, his drumsticks slipping from his graceful, trembling fingers and clattering to the floor. He doubles over, gasping, his pale hand held to his chest, the fingers slipping through the red fishnet and almost clawing at the skin beneath as if they could tear out the searing, pounding agony within. His breath is fast, his eyes watering, and his skin moist with cold sweat.

Emiru... don't leave us. Not yet. That will be the end; I can feel it.

There is still time, after all. They have more tours before he could. Machi knows he has been thinking of it.

Calming his breath and his heart, Machi straightens and wipes a hand across his brow and fingers under his eyes. The powder smears off from the tears and light dampness.

He rubs his face again and it loses expression. Bending down to take his sticks, he puts them in their proper place before standing shakily but surely, composed but ruined, and walks as steadily as he can to the bathroom.

He certainly must wash his face. What a sight you are, Machi - not at all gentile.
  • Current Music
    drumbeats echoing in the heart

(no subject)

:: Klaha did as he was told, though he squirmed a little under mana's brush::

"yare, Yare, what was all that about Mana san? Did the girl scouts call? I hear they can be very agressive, especially in America!"
  • Current Music
    Delete - Metronome

Re:..."What do you mean by 'you're out of the band'?"

((secret message to Mana: I was talking quietly on the phone just now because I'm in the school library and I don't feel like getting kicked out :F Just in case you were weirded out <3))


Tetsu blinked and took the phone away from his ear, staring at it like it knew what the hell was going on.

After a minute of contemplation, he realized that Mana had hung up on him.

..."Oh no you DIDN'T."

Hanging up, he quickly redialed, with a severe pout on his face. Ring ring ring ring ring rin--"Mana, I swear if you don't PICK UP YOUR PHONE AND TALK TO ME I WILL BUY SOME AUNT JAMIMA AN--"

"What do you want, Tetsu."

"Oh. You picked up. ...Um...GOOD. Anyway, I'm calling because my sister's having a baby shower. ...I need you to come with me and help me buy baby clothes. ...Because I assume that you'd be good at that. Soooo...pick you up at eight? <3"
kioku to sora

Re: ..."What do you mean by 'you're out of the band'?"

((OOC: Got permission from Kozi to use him here. <3))

Mana laughed at the fact that Klaha was so nervous and patted his head as he gathered brushes and various makeups. "Don't be so nervous. We don't bite...much.", he snickered as he sat the man down in front of a mirror.

Just then his phone rang. He answered, holding the phone with his shoulder, styling Klaha's hair while the other person talked.

"Mmhmm...mmhmm...yeah...", he said gradually, stifling histeric laughter. As he finished Klaha's hair, he sat down in front of him to work on his makeup. "Yes, we'll take a box of thin mints, and 2...wait...", he hesitated to count the people in the room, pointing around with eyeliner, "Make that 3 boxes of peanut butter. Thank you!", he said as he hung up.

Kozi walked in with tea for Klaha and set it down in front of him. "Who was it?", he asked.

"Tetsu.", Mana stated simply. "Look up!", he directed Klaha and continued about his merry way.


..."What do you mean by 'you're out of the band'?"

((OOC: Hi guys. It's me. Tetsu. Imma cool guy. First post. I'm playing just a bit for Mana just so my post isn't all of one line, and she's cool with it so y'all best be gettin outta mah grill :F Anyway, yeah. Uh, glad to be here. ......*point* OMFG WHAT'S THAT? *runs.*))

Mana blinked as a muffled 'doodilllydoo' sounded from somewhere in the folds of his clothing and he reached about until he pulled out a flashing cellphone. Frowning a bit at the unfamiliar number that showed up on the caller ID, he flipped it open and put his mouth near the phone, uttering a quiet "Mana desu."

"Okay, seriously, here's what happened. I was getting out of bed and I went into the kitchen and apparently somebody forgot to buy more milk. And you KNOW I can't have my crunchberries without milk. So I put on some slipper and I was just going to run to the store really quick but on the way this chick pulls over and asks me if I've seen her cat. I say 'No, crazy hoe, go away I'm getting milk', but she keeps following me with her car so finally I was just like 'Fine, I'll help you find your damn cat!" and she pointed to this alley. So I went in the COMPLETELY OPPOSITE DIRECTION from the Quicky Mart and was all "Here kitty kitty..." and the HUGEST rabbit appeared out of fucking NO WHERE and it wanted a carrot! What was I supposed to do, right?? So I ran back to my appartment and hid in the shower, and that's why I missed practice. ...Sooo....'sup?"

Tet-SU! (godblessyou.)
kioku to sora

((OOC mod stuff))

((Ok guys, made some modifications to the community. Kana left, so I removed her, and I removed anyone from the members list that isn't an RP journal. This doesn't mean that you can't see us on your private friends' pages, just that the community's friends page is now only for the characters. So no worries ^^

Also, welcome a new co-moderator, kozisama. She'll be the one to check the RPG mail and help me with decisions.

I'll gets to posting soon, just wanted to let you know what was going on. ^^

  • _vulgar

What's Misery Without Kyo?

[ Kyo's been alive the whole time, but, uhm. I never got around to posting because no one said OKAY EKYO, YOU CAN BE KYO. THANKS FOR YOUR AUDITION. So, I thought that I wasn't Kyo? xD A bajillion years later, I am told "YES, OKAY, EKYO, YOU CAN BE KYO. THANKS FOR YOUR AUDITION." and wee! @_@;; ]

Kyo stared down at the black ashtray full of old cigarettes, reaching over to brush the ash off the desk into his near by trash bin. As he watched it fall into the mess of crumpled paper and tissues, he wondered to himself.

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

(no subject)

:: Haruna smiled to his new boss, trying very hard not to faint from happyness.::

" Sure, whatever would make the band happy. Though if I may give some imput, Black and white are my best colors I think. Sort of like a penguin..."

:: He smiled letting a slight blush be fall his cheeks. He asked the host if he may have a drink of tea to so sooth his nervous vocal chords and took a seat next to Mana. Mana could feel the man's shaking body, he was still trembling. ::
  • Current Mood
    ecstatic ecstatic
Main//Credited to Sakuraso

(no subject)

Days had passed since his evening on the town. Although the evening was delightful and he found young Kana's company calming and moving, he had found himself itching to get back to work on his final song for his first full length CD as a solo artist. He had bid Kana a friendly goodnight, offering to take her around the town again. The girl seemed flattered but had decided it was best to stay out of the city and up at her cabin for awhile. Gackt was disappointed, but understood an artists desire to perfect their work.

He sat on the living room couch again, nice and clean of all the staining red fluid he had left on it in his anger a few days ago. On the table lay a large glass of water, papers covered in music notes and lyrics, and a burning cigarette in the ashtray. He picked up the cigarette and brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply. A moment later, letting the tobacco settle in his lungs, he exhaled on a frustrated sigh. The final lines of the song had still not come to him. He was at a complete stand still.

Glancing down at the words before him, he sat with his cigarette dangling in his lips. He tapped his fingers in the rythm of the song before him. Tap tap tap. He paused, cocking his head to one side. He tried it again, this time switching around the cords that lead into the lyrics. He blinked and did it again. Then he quickly grabbed his pencil and fresh sheet of paper. Quickly his hands began writing down the new beat, writing every note he heard in his head. He scribbled on for six pages, the music just coming to life through his hands on its own.

After six pages, he stopped, snatching the written pages in his hands and running over to his piano. He sat down and slowly brought his hands to the keys. What came forth made him smile. He sat back, gazing at the notes before him.

With some fine tuning, MARS was ready.