Chapter Text
The bar was noisy. Crowded, and full of rowdy attendants passing drinks about and chatting with each other. So, in all, not too unusual for the man currently seated at an elevated platform in the late-night establishment. His standing red hair making him pop out somewhat in the moodily lit hangout spot. In his hands was a red and white electric guitar and in front of him was a microphone propped on a stand. He was there to make a performance.
https://youtu.be/nADTbWQof7Y
As the man begins with the first few strums of the guitar strings, a couple heads turn towards him as music begins to fill the scene. What starts as a few repeating notes then shifts into a beat. His digits move across the wired instrument as each finger finds a string to pick, producing sound and then chords. The red-haired man taps his foot rhythmically as he plays the place a little song.
“Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low”
A deep voice escapes the lips of the performer, causing a few more heads to look towards his direction. But he pays no attention to the crowd. Instead, only minding the guitar in his hands and the melody in his voice.
“Baby, we ain't got no place to go”
He hopes this gig will bring him some cash tonight. That’s one thought that crosses his mind.
“I've been thinking 'bout this all day long
Never felt a feeling quite this strong”
Lately, the man has been going from one job to another. Each night he tries a different place and does yet another odd job or two. The only things he brings with him was a guitar he liked to play and a motorcycle he liked to ride.
“There's no hurry, don't you worry
We can take our time”
So, for now, he does this gig in hopes of whatever income it brings him. A lone wanderer. A sole survivor. One who persists in his travels and keeps going, having no real destination in mind. Only the sound of strings being plucked accompanying him.
“Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low
And put some music on that's soft and slow
Baby, we ain't got no place to go
I hope you understand”
And like that, Griffin Rider plays a humble tune. Making ends meet is a challenge, but at least he gets to do so with a passion he loves. The voice of the red-haired guitarist serenades the attendants of the late-night establishment. Looking the audience over, he can see a few heads turning, a couple lips parting and arching into a smile, and even one or two bodies swaying to his playing. Looks like it was a satisfactory performance. Maybe he’ll gain a little more tonight with that kind of reception?
…
“Are you kidding me!?” Rider exclaims as he was handed his humble sum. “Oh, come on, I played worth more than this!” The broad-framed man shakes the handful of bills handed to him. “Give me a break!” Frustrated, he shakes, but the bar staff wasn’t having any of it, seemingly already used to outbursts like this. “Fine! But I’m not playing here again!” He grumbles as he slings the guitar case on his back and heads to the counter for a complimentary drink.
It was then, when just as the man sits down, a little energy taken out of him, the front door to the place opens and a couple figures walk in. Barely giving them a glance, Rider only takes note that it seemed to be a black-haired woman with someone else accompanying her. She seemed to be a young-looking woman, but her ponytailed long, pink hair definitely made her stand out among the crowd. She looked like she had some form of instrument case slung over her shoulder as well. He supposes another performer. A youth too. As if she can make more than him.
Alright, maybe she did catch his attention more than he would like to admit. Turning in his seat, Griffin Rider observes this girl. Wearing sunglasses indoors, black and red apparel, stylish enough for looks, and – from what Rider could tell – a rather pretty face. Maybe he can go for another drink later with her? That’s what he would think, if the silent but giving off an ‘do not approach’ aura woman, he supposes a guardian or something, wasn’t right beside this girl at every turn. So, the man just watches as a deal gets made after hushed lips and negotiated terms. He could’ve left earlier, and gone off his merry way, but something about this little girl just seemed to catch his eye tonight. Maybe it was also the alcohol in his system, but he wants to give her a shot, in the alcoholic and courtly sense.
…
“Are you ready for this?” Enma asks the young Mori Calliope. “You’ve got everything down on your own?”
“Of course, I do.” A blunt response from the younger girl as she unfolds her keyboard and sets it up on a stand. “Do you not trust me, Enma?” She asks, rather passive-aggressive for someone talking to a woman several years older.
“If you say so.” The guardian sighs, once again having to deal with this girl’s attitude. “Good luck up there, kid.” She gives one last supportive message that was only met with a brief grunt in response.
Enma tolerated the young Mori Calliope. From an outsider’s perspective, it would look like the two had some seeping aggression towards each other. But, in the deeper connections between the two, one would know about their true relation. Mori Calliope, currently a girl lost in her emotions. Still in mourning after the tragic loss of one of the only people truly close to her, whose only outlet is holding on to the one thing that was left behind in her, the music she plays and the voice she speaks. Enma Holo, a rather mysterious woman, tended to keep to herself most of the time. But there was one thing consistent with her. She would always be there for people even when they expect everyone else to have just left them behind already. She was no different with Mori Calliope.
And so, as the electric keyboard keys sound with the respective keys as the performer for tonight tests them, Mori Calliope looks beyond the audience and into a world beyond this mortal existence. As if she was searching not for some face in the crowd. No, she wanted the man already beyond this world to see her for what she’s become. So, she sings, a rather enchanting song, unlike the ones she’s made before. Ones she’s made when she had a partner to help her. One who also told her she would always be there. One who lied to her. One who held back, betraying the trust they had as people there for each other. But tonight, it wasn’t about her, or the smile Mori Calliope saw turn sour as she ruined their relationship forever, or so she thought. She sings a melody, on this rather cursed night.
…
https://youtu.be/VYu3PvRPZR8 (Cursed Night)
Griffin Rider hears the girl on the stage start to play. Her voice accompanying hands whose digits press down rhythmically and elegantly on pristine white keys. Her voice was enchanting, her playing melodic, her emotion a miasma of feeling. He knew not of this girl’s story, nor her name, but this was a person speaking from heart. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one in the audience feeling this. When it was his performance, heads turned while glasses of shots still clacked as people made conversation. This one, however, had nearly the entire establishment’s eyes on her. This girl, she was staring off into somewhere. He could feel it. She may be looking into the crowd, but she was seeing something else. It felt like she was missing something. Her words were full, but her heart seemed empty. Her posture held vigor, but her vim felt forced. She was pushing herself to go beyond. Something about this performance mattered to her, as if her life depended on it.
And as song being played ends, a still silence hangs over the air. For a performance witnessed by a select few enchanted the presence of all who bore witness to the wandering melody. Though, it didn’t take long for the guests to return to their visual routine of clinked glasses and drunken slurs.
Mori Calliope walks off the stage after picking her instrument back up. Walking back towards Enma who seemed to have recorded the whole thing on her phone. The woman had a smile on her face, a rare sight. But Mori played no heed to it. What she needed was the money, and that she got. A decent sum for something quick done in a place like this. Looking back towards Enma, the two silently agree to end it tonight and be done with it.
That was, however, until a certain red-haired man decided to stand up from his seat and make an approach that would become the start to a set of events. A single note that would change the melody of the whole song. Griffin Rider approaches Mori Calliope and Enma Holo, to have a conversation that would set in stone the occurrences of a story that was told.