Chapter Text
Brows furrowed, Vi marched over to the amplifier and yanked the cable out of the port, the dissonant roar of distortion coming to an abrupt and unceremonious end. “Mylo, I have been yelling ‘stop’ at you for the last two measures. You came in early! Again. Third measure, not second.”
Mylo’s wide eyes regarded her from under his unruly brows. “I thought I did!” But this wasn’t the first time he came in early on his part. It was a work in progress. A frustrating work in progress.
“Vi, cut him some slack, you know the boy can’t count,” Gert added, a playful smirk on her features. She ribbed him a lot, but it was never especially mean. He could be a bit annoying at times, but he was a good guitarist. Just a little over-eager. Mylo gave her a hurt expression, his ego just the slightest bit bruised.
Vi sighed, swinging her guitar behind her back to rest like a sword against her spine. “Okay, okay. Let’s just try it again. From the top. Let Gert get through two measures when we approach the breakdown, Claggor comes in on the second measure, then you come in on the third. Just like we rehearsed.”
“Uh, Vi… my cable?” Mylo asked, pointing at the cable still dangling in her hand.
“... right.” She plugged it back in, and feedback suddenly pierced her skull. Mylo quickly moved back so his guitar would stop feeding into the audio loop.
Claggor had been mostly quiet, watching the chaos unfold, a common occurrence during practices for The Lanes—it’s what they called themselves. Vi had always wanted to be in a band, to hear the crowds screaming out along with her music. She roped Mylo and Claggor into joining, both talented in their own rights. They used to have jam sessions in the basement of the Last Drop, but Vi realized they could actually do something with it. A “drummer needed” ad in the local paper later, and they found Gert to be the perfect addition to their little group.
And then there was Powder.
“Hey, Vi, weren’t you supposed to leave five minutes ago to pick up Powder?” Claggor said, finally.
“Shit!” With haste, she swung her guitar off, rushing to put it on the stand and grab her keys. “Shit, shit, shit!” Vi tried to be reliable, she really did, but damn if sometimes she got lost in the music. “Just keep practicing, I’ll be back in a few hours.”
A few hours. The bathysphere to Piltover was slow, and this would be her first time heading to the Conservatory. Powder was on a campus tour, her heart set on the new music production degree that they had recently instituted. It had been all she’d talked about for weeks. A chance to do something of her own outside of The Lanes.
She wasn’t a part of the band in the sense that she was on stage, but she was an integral part of the behind-the-scenes work, costumes, lighting, and sound design. She even rigged up some custom pedals for Vi and Mylo’s pedalboards. The kid was a genius. But Vi worried. The Piltover Conservatory of Music was incredibly prestigious; it was a tough school to get into, highly competitive, and if Vi was being honest, a bit pretentious. She couldn’t imagine they’d be all too happy with a Zaunite trying to get in. But if anyone could, it was Powder.
Even with the directions she had, she almost got lost on the way to the Conservatory. It was a few blocks away from the Academy of Piltover, another school that was tough to get into. Pilties had a way of letting it be known exactly what kind of people they wanted in the Upper City.
Shoving her hands into the pockets of her torn black jeans, she made her way up the stairs to the main entrance of the school. A place this big had to have a map inside. It must have been the size of several blocks in Zaun. Giant halls with high ceilings greeted her, the kind of place that she only read about as a child. It felt like this place was made for people who were larger than life, not the common folk. Not people like her.
A frown etched into her features as she approached the campus map by the reception desk. It probably would have been easier to wait out front for her, but why do that when she could be there to greet her as soon as things ended?
Vi and Powder were close—had been since they were little. Having lost their parents at such a young age, Vi rarely let Pow out of her sight, choosing to be her defender every step of the way; whether that meant stopping some of the lowlifes who weren’t above picking fights with kids, or telling Mylo to shut up when he was being too much. They forged their own family, and that bond was tight. She’d do anything for her.
Maybe it was just the nerves for Powder or maybe it was the unfamiliarity of this building, but something about this place made Vi deeply uncomfortable. For a music conservatory, the place seemed as quiet as a library. All these acoustics and nothing to show for it.
The attendant indicated the cafe where Powder said the tour would end was on the other end of the campus. Vi sighed, shoulders slumping under the mass of her leather jacket. Best to sign in as a guest and start heading that way; she could get a snack while she was there.
It wasn’t until she was further into the meat of the campus that she started hearing signs of life: the sounds of horns, strings, and pianos echoing out from under the massive doors of each classroom. Students studying music theory and notations, as opposed to more traditional academic courses. She got further down the hall, passing the doors to one of the major auditoriums, when she halted in her tracks.
Singing. She heard singing.
Not just any singing, either, but something she couldn’t quite put into words. A part of her hesitated, moving closer to the doors and leaning her ear against it. The voice on the other side was low, wrapped in a warm and angelic timbre. It rang out in a language she didn’t even understand; it certainly wasn’t Piltovan. Nearly entranced, she slowly opened the door, slipping inside the surprisingly empty auditorium, and gently closed it behind her. On stage stood a woman, tall and thin in stature, hair like the night sky.
But that voice. It was a siren’s call, and Vi couldn’t help but sit in the back row and just listen to a complete stranger sing a song she didn’t know in a language she didn’t speak. And somehow, she could feel it pulling at her heart in ways she couldn’t describe.
For the last few weeks she had battled with the idea that something was missing from The Lanes. A sound that would make them stand out from all the other heavy acts in the Undercity. This woman, her voice, she had to know her. Had to have her on stage with her. A complete stranger.
And, for the duration of the performance, Vi forgot why she was even here to begin with.