It happened two days ago, mostly. The flush of planes, aircraft, boats and private taxis that poured into the urbanised complex that had recently opened. Footsteps and the calming rumble of suitcases and equipment being dragged on minute wheels began to fill an hour's-worth of noise inside the incredible Daywing District. An aesthetic brilliance of sight and sound was the day's gift towards these new guests and inhabitants to the greatness of Cystra City. These two days filled the District with a splutter of new life. Buildings beginning to fill up, with rooms becoming occupied one by one. The doors would shut and open as suddenly people began to acquaint themselves with their new home, though many weren't comfortable enough to talk to the other musicians and producers dotted around the complex. Whilst this stigma of awkwardness and lack of comfort lasted for the first night, the gall would slowly melt away on the second day, where neighbouring groups began to talk and explore the very local buildings and restaurants around the area. Some even explored the complex itself, finding recording studios, design studios and practice rooms in large numbers. It was grand, grander than any other musician's dream. Some called it grander than the stage itself.
The rooms were also of peak interest for those invited. Spacious for what they were being given, but not over-sized to expand the egos of some of the more arrogant to-be celebrities around. The style was modernised, even further than some of the more traditional homes found in Europe and Northern America. Multiple rooms, or singles for certain users, thick walls to conceal privacy and stocked kitchens, as well as an en suite for each room. Their influence in beauty attracted most, if not all, the inhabitants as they went to their assigned rooms. Some slept alone, some with their groups or with a random partner of their own assigned by the assistant staff running the complex itself. It seemed like a wonderland, only better!
The third day was now in session, at dusk for the time being now, and the first batch of announcements made by an important member of staff was made. Yet, the third day was more of a first day. There were the actual opportunities being created for these people, and this was the day where they would find out. Yeah...this third day felt more like a first day; especially for people like Thom McNicholas.
Thom McNicholas was one of the invited, for two fields unlike some. Tall, lean and usually quite covered up with clothing, he wandered into the bustling complex, filled with chatter and already formed groups of acquaintances, on this third day. The rest of his band were already here, all of the other four. They had managed to get ahead of schedule by heading out as soon as they could. However, Thom couldn't. At first he was nervous, scared even. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the United Kingdom, nor did he want to detach himself from his current rehabilitation team that were available if he had any breakdowns throughout his daily life. Yet, Cystra City offered to ensure he had the proper medical applications, as did every candidate invited to the Daywing District. Everyone understood why, allowing him to have an extra two days to consolidate his decision. He was fearful, nervous of his own possibility of ruining the chances of success. Yes, the band themselves had made quite an image in Scotland and many areas of Great Britain, but here in Japan everything could down the shitter. It was only a matter of self-integrity that was going to get him through this campaign of success, and it was one that he needed to come to terms with. The two days were lonely, giving him time to think and call his local medical teams for advice. It was clear. He had a duty to attend to, and plus his band-mates were already in Japan by then. They couldn't perform without their bassist after-all, now, could they?
Initially, stepping inside the District was overwhelming. He felt a surge of happiness as a smile corrupted his worry and forced the joy of pleasure as he sought out what was presented in front of his own eyes. A living and breathing city within Cystra City. This place seemed like its own world, like paradise. But Thom knew that it wouldn't be paradise. There weren't going to be musicians that were perfect, or ones that would respect everyone else. There would be social issues, and social issues were the worst-hitting weapons Thom hated. Yet, he persevered and headed inside. However, before Thom could make his way to his designated room, he head a call from a centre stage in one of the main openings within the complex. Through the intercom an announcement to gather all musicians was made. It took only a few minutes for the 300+ talented individuals to arrive where called upon.
The stage itself flashed of a few colours, lights being tested to make sure that everything was in order. Thom was surprised that he had managed to arrive on the right time, even being later than almost everyone. This right time was critical, as the first group announcement was about to be made. A figure took to the stairs, wandering up the right flank of their presentation and came into view. An elderly Japanese man, most likely in his 50s or 60s, brought himself closer to the microphone. His body was also lean, and his beard remained thin and slightly grey. The man had aged well, but he still was recognisable for his life-span. Unknowing to who this was, and the fact that this was an announcement, Thom stopped where he was to listen like everyone else did. After a short silence, he raised a hand, as if waving to greet everyone there. His English wasn't awful, but it definitely could be seen as confusing during certain words and phrasing. The man began to spoke, quite passionately...
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Kuroba Tadashi, Co-founder of the Daywing District. Today, I would like you to be welcomed personally by myself, as well as Arthur himself, in spirit." There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, representing his closeness to his ally and friend, Sir Arthur Daywing. The two had built and planned this place and event from the start. To have him pass away before the grand opening like this must've been quite emotional for everyone, not just the design team. "My friends, I want to remind you all of how important you are to this City. We're here to revive music! We're here to make statements and names, on top of records and projects. Films, games, concerts and solo compositions! Everything here is going to be achieved by you, if you can prove yourselves! I'm here to remind you all of your fortunate states of being here. And I must say, I and my team are fortunate to have you all here as well."
He smiled, pointing to a few nicely dressed men and women bearing the logo of the Daywing District upon their backs and breast pockets, each holding posters and promotional material for what looked like events. They had dates, similarly close by a few months in correlation to the day it was today. Thom looked closer, scrutinising what he saw with care. Before he could make out the words fully himself, the voice of Kuroba cut his mind off with the information required.
"This here, my friends, are the upcoming projects of the year. We have, firstly, a combined musical concert in late-November, early-December. This will require the sign-ups for several bands, solo-artists and what-not. It's a two-to-three hour event, and will be there to present what we have to offer on a smaller scale. A chance for everyone to perform comes in January as well. However, we also have a film festival coming up. There'll be several films for the long-term composers, producers and sound designers to find a place to employ themselves. However, there are the, if you research, smaller projects to get you off your feet in the city and build a portfolio along the way. Sound interesting, right? I hope it serves a good purpose. However, if there are any queries, please ask me for more smaller details, or any of my executive staff around the district's offices. And just so you know, my wishes to your enjoyment are here. Please...feel free to talk to me when you need to."
An applause of those who found his speech and introduction welcoming and somewhat inspiring filled the area for a brief moment, before the groups started to diverge to where they were before once more. Thom stood his ground for a moment, looking around and seeing multiple people. He was staying in Block B, a collection of rooms on the Eastern side of the apartment-centre of the District. It suited his desires, as there would hopefully be a view of the city in the distance. Though, knowing the concerns of his "leg", they would put him on the ground floor. A bunch of small booths opened temporarily. Some were there to explain the upcoming events, whilst others were there for general information. Heading over, he requested for his room location, knowing his equipment had already been delivered to a safe and desirable location. To his surprise, he found where he was.
He was within a room far away form his band-mates. They were in Block C, the next one down. It wasn't what he expected, especially seeing as he hadn't even seen his band-mates since he arrived. They were lurking around somewhere, awaiting his arrival, but that might have to wait until the next day. The sheet and key-card that showed the location of his room was simple. Room 6, the furthest to the right on the ground floor. The buildings of each block arched around at the base, meaning that his room was on the very end of the Block. It was interesting. There was another name on that room-list as well. No one he'd have heard of, unfortunately, which could have been a treat. Hikari Whitaker. Clearly of a more localised descent, judging by the name, but that could be just a bad assumption. Either way, once he had finished limping his way to the door, he found himself stuck, locked outside as his keycard failed to open the door. The several attempts saw frustration in his eyes, as a thin chuckle left his lips. What cruel irony. First late, then locked out. It was likely the room-mate of his wasn't in, which made him feel more vulnerable and alone for where he stood, here...Finally in the Daywing District, complex of opportunity.
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