Work Text:
Bearing a crimson note branded on their arm
From the masked conductor’s sinister symposium,
They strike their bow and swipe the strings as he whips his baton
In his crusading symphony, trancing the audience with fake melodies,
Carefully playing his prophetic music.
But they are not snared by the golden songs.
As the curtain falls, ending the conductor’s hidden lies of a giant’s corpse,
They hide backstage with other merry bards,
Writing secret scores of freedom against the tainted notes of the horned madman.
Their countless sheet music is laced with deception, rebellion, and freedom.
To save the audience from his hypnotic melodies,
Their band readies their instruments to strike the conductor’s orchestra.
Oh branded bard, their inspiration for these songs are more than justice and rebellion.
Their muse still lingers within the strings of their heart,
Strummed by her wild and whimsical fingers.
Each pluck slowly reignites the duet shared by two similar souls.
In youth, their whimsical charm met with her chaotic pranks,
Dancing a new waltz that only two kindred spirits can perform.
Closer together, their inseparable companionship sparks into budding love.
The two atop a hill, they practice the violin and her the lute,
Their fiddler’s fingers caressing her sweet strings,
As she brands a moniker into your heart.
Alas, the sweet serenades performed by their duet
Begin to turn into sour notes,
Their muse afflicted by a curse of a beast,
Dormant inside but threatening to release its monstrosity:
Orange feathers grow and golden eyes are consumed by darkness.
Her fingers once strumming strings of their rhapsody
Turn to sharpened talons ready to strike
And her gorgeous smile shaped into a sinister fanged maw.
It screeches and roars a maddening tune
While she slumbers into the void,
Remembering her unknown perpetrator or chased by the real beast within.
Only the sun-swirled serum can tame her feathered beastly form.
They yearn and plead to reach her,
But your muse’s once melodic voice is sealed.
Unsung woes swallowed in the jaws of her curse,
Caging her heart in its claws,
As she spews lies to hide her broken soul.
Their heart cannot bleed for her anymore
And they snap the strings binding their duet.
Branded to the bard, yet free to betray their marking,
They swipe their trusted violin into songs of rebellion.
Their tune reunites the muse of their music.
Years of the curse changed her.
Orange mane decayed to silver
And one iris turned gray, while the other adorning its golden hues.
Her wild scarlet soul cracked but not broken,
As her chaotic spirit continues to dance.
Outcasted by the masked conductor’s concert halls,
Yet free of his chained symphony.
Their duet rekindles lost love with a different tune,
Of decay and affections,
Only for a short time.
Reunited once again,
The sweet sounds of their stringed companion
Play a song of trickery.
Her heart crumbles from their veiled harmonics,
But they never halt until her ears capture the lies
And run from your deceitful tune
To keep her safe from plaguing the now unmasked conductor’s orchestra and destroying her soul.
They continue the solo similar to your cursed muse.
The same song played until they hear her desperate pleas,
Her voice reaches their heartstrings, untainted by the poisonous clutches of the enemy.
Revealing your secret symphony for the final concert
Of the unmasked conductor.
The battle of two orchestras is about to commence.
Their muse bears the same crimson note
Adorning their wrists.
A concert of rebellion to free the audience of the conductor’s true melody.
As the players ready their instruments,
Five familiar hued musicians take the stage
And they stand atop a pedestal instead of her.
Under the spotlight from the blood moon eclipse,
Light spreads to the audience and musicians
Stealing their essence from their marks.
All trapped in an amphitheater of hell.
Weakened and wounded,
The screech of their decaying muse
Defies the agony of the lying light.
Their crimson brand spreading poison gold in their veins
Is nothing to the sounds of their howling muse.
Tearing her demise apart,
They fall, their voice lifeless and scarred.
What shall become of this tragic symphony
For the audience above and below
Awaiting the rekindled duet of the branded bard and their muse.