HangYourSecrets

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob’s time with his bandmates was melancholic at best; and not for any decent reason.

Aside from the vacant position of Jane in the group, something seemed to be in the air along with the rest of them. A quiet disconnect. Something he was simply unsure of.

Eventually, after a few of them broke off to order some food at the bar, Austin led Rob to the side.

“What’s going on with you, man?” He asked politely. “You haven’t spoken since randomly disappearing off. Where did you end up practicing, again?”

“I ended up jamming with Zoe,” Rob answered. He felt a bit odd talking about her around Austin—more and more recently, since Austin tended to play the intermediate between he and Jane. But Austin’s face seemed nonplussed at the response, and Rob continued: “I just missed playing with other people and having fun with it. Especially after last night’s show. I needed something that reminded me how much fun playing is.”

“Well, you should’ve told me,” Austin said. “I mean, Jesus Christ all you people do is hang with Vicarious. I want in on that action.”

Rob laughed with Austin for a moment. He and Sam seemed so blissfully simple on tour; always had, even when it was just them in a car, driving around California. Sure, they’d fuck around, but there was never any drama. Nothing like what was going on currently.

“Matt’s a decent enough guy,” Rob said, talking of Vicarious’ guitar player. “I haven’t seem much of him, but he’s low profile. Like you and Sam.”

Austin smiled. “Oh, so we’re low profile? What does that make you and Jane?”

“I don’t know,” Rob said honestly. “A clusterfuck?”

Austin chuckled and walked away. “You both need to figure yourself out. I’ll be with the others, if you want to play nice. But if you’re just going to mope, get yourself somewhere you enjoy.”

“Thanks, man,” Rob said. He gave Austin a nod as he turned and made his way to the others.

—

Rob ended up taking Austin’s words to heart, and had found the nearest record store using his phone in a bit under a half hour.

These were some of the only places Rob felt the most comfortable. The alluring sensations of flipping through old records, talking music with the local store owners, and finding LP’s you never knew you needed, all were some of the greatest parts of growing up in Long Beach and being so near to that scene.

Rob pushed open the front door to find a near-empty shop, as large and expansive as Aaron’s store back home, and Spread Your Love by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club playing over the conversations taking place within.

Rob couldn’t help but smile, but the state of his hands meant that he would probably need to wait before touching anything in here. A woman who seemed to be working there past by, and Rob caught her attention.

“You’ve got any grip tape?” He asked, motioning to his hands.

”Hvad? I dansk, tak.”

“Excuse me?”

”Giv mig et sekund.” The lady sighed, before briskly marching behind the counter and into a back room. Rob could hear her and other guy arguing slightly in Danish, before another man slipped out into the front.

“How can I help you?” He asked in a thick accent.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rob stuttered out. “Forgot what country I was in. Do you guys have any grip tape?”

Rob watched as the man’s eyes darted from Rob’s bloody hands, then back to his face. He quickly produced what Rob needed, and Rob simply set a band debit card on the table as he taped up the remaining wounds.

As he did, he noticed the first woman he had spoken to slip back out, and talk to the man who had supplied him the tape. Both looked to Rob occasionally with concerned expressions.

“Are you in a band?” The man finally asked.

“Yeah,” Rob said, “In Bloom. We’re playing tonight around here.”

The man smiled, and the two talked about In Bloom for a moment, before he slipped off to help another customer.

The entire experience, although short, was a bit surreal. The enjoyment of getting into stores like this was quickly negated by the ever-growing group of people that would recognize him. Rob browsed for twenty minutes, before, after getting stopped to take a photo twice by two different fans, he purchased a Deftones record and was quickly on his way.

On the taxi ride to the venue, Rob pulled out his phone. He had missed Jane’s text by several hours at this point, and now, in the heat of the day, felt far too late to really respond.

After the afternoons events, and particularly his brief time with Zoe, Rob was eager to return to Jane. Not only had he felt bad about spending so much time away today (which wasn’t helping how little they had spoken), but was also still tense from the adrenaline of the session.

There was a frustration in being this separated from Jane for this long. The more he thought of it, the more he realized they had barely spoken since landing in Europe.

He wondered what she had done today. He hoped, whatever it was, that they had spent more than enough time apart. If he could just be back with her, and things would feel so much more normal…maybe he wouldn’t feel so constantly bad because he went off to “feel normal” with Zoe.

Because the truth was, hanging out was Zoe wasn’t just casual for him. The reason he felt bad about being with her instead of Jane, if he was willing to admit it, was because she was normal when Jane was not. 

And that scared him to even think about.

Entering the bus, Rob broke straight for the back and, after making sure no one was walking about, stripped down and showered, rinsing any dried blood that might have formed. He was going to be paying for that practice session, alright. His voice was still hoarse, and his hands would probably tear open each night of the tour for a good week.

Afterwards, Rob slipped out, and pulled back the curtain from his bed, hoping to at least close his eyes before the show started.

And here Jane was. Fast asleep in his bed, wearing his own shirt.

There was a lot of things Rob wanted to do. He wanted to talk to her. To tell her he was sorry for disappearing off today, and that he didn’t mean to ignore her. That whatever shit they had going on between them needed to end, by any means necessary, because he missed their old connection. That he was quickly forming another one in their place.

But Rob couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. To force her to deal with this, when here she was, waiting for him in his own bed. All the thoughts from his mind drifted off in an instant.

Rob gently climbed into his bunk next to her, closing the curtain behind him. He slipped himself into the big spoon position, sliding Jane’s small frame close to him, and slipping his arm back into it’s favorite position. He nuzzled his head into the back of hers, and tried to forget about everything. In here, in this small bunk…this was all that mattered.

Or, at least, all that should have mattered.

—

“You guys planning on performing tonight?” A voice came, waking Rob up from his nap. His back was against the curtain side of the bunk, but the voice proved that Sam had come and interrupted Jane and Rob’s nap. “We go on in an hour.”

“Sure,” Rob muttered out. “Be up in a minute.”

Rob felt the curtain close behind him, and pressed himself against Jane, too comfortable to want to move. He certainly was learning the allure of his physical side with Jane. It was funny, how they influenced each other when they were on good terms. Made each other stronger. Complimented the other.

“I missed you today,” Rob whispered into Jane’s form. Which was true, certainly. As was his frustration with her silence, his (admittedly great) time with Zoe, and finally his own frustration at himself for feeling like an emotional cheater. “I’m going to call Harold as soon as I get out of this bed and make that hotel room happen.”

There was so much more that could be said, but Rob didn’t want to deal with that right now. Right now, he had Jane. And the longer he put off dealing with these problems, the more it felt like they didn’t exist.

So, instead of more words, Rob slipped a hand into Jane’s hair, gently untangling a few knots with his fingers. He sighed deeply, and slipped out of the bed, quickly dressing himself and arranging the hotel plans with Harold. Tomorrow, he and Jane would have a hotel room to themselves again, and hopefully things could improve then.

Afterwards, he slipped outside of the bus, and slipped a cigarette up to his mouth. He took a few drags as he entered the venue, and joined the few members of the In Bloom team that had already entered the theater for sound check.

He tried to ignore a few odd glances from members of Vicarious, and moved to the craft table. He opened the first caffeinated beverage he could find, and downed it as quickly as possible.

He’d need more than that for the pain he was about to experience playing on stage tonight.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Jane’s sudden aggression to Rob came as somewhat of a surprise to him. Sure, she had been forward in the past, but…out in the open?

”I’m sorry for last night.” she came again, sending a hand into his long hair, triggering what felt like waves of energy throughout his body. Jane’s physicality was not only illustrious—it was intoxicating. The contagious energy distracted Rob from where they were, and it was only when Jane had begun undressing him that he snapped back into somewhat of a reality.

“The others—“ Rob managed to say, somewhere between a whisper and a moan. He was cut off by Lyla, who had entered the area, and immediately let out profuse apologies.

Rob shoved a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it out once again. Jane had quickly hopped off of him, and both were left in a stage of shock and unresolved feelings.

Once the initial high had worn off, and he had left the bus with the others, he was free to think once again, as he always did.

How many times had Jane done that? Was the first of many thoughts.

In recent memory, most of Jane’s apologies were tied together with intimacy of some sort. Whether it be just today, on the bus, or yesterday in the bunk, or many times before it, Rob was starting to get the impression that most apologies came with an added bonus.

But was it? Rob was not denying his libido. Being with Jane was always amazing. It was just that…he couldn’t help but feel a little manipulated by it. And he was sure it wasn’t the intention. Jane’s sex drive, both with and without him, tended to be massive. But recently, it had grown more intimate. More rough and volatile. Jane seemed to desperately want him, but suddenly be away was it wasn’t time to get into bed.

Tivoli Gardens was next on their list of places to visit, and yet again, in an instant, Jane was gone.

Rob paced with the others and quickly moved next to Lyla. “Where’d Jane go?” He asked.

“Last I saw, she grabbed a beer,” she responded.

Should I be worried? Rob thought, but decided against asking Lyla.

But then again, just that thought was frustrating. He felt constantly now that he needed to keep tabs on Jane. Ever since landing she had vanished, leaving Rob to look for her, worry about her, find out what was wrong.

Rob, for all his hesitation about the arrangement, at least figured that this was what Jane wanted. That this would clear up the bullshit between them and let them just hang out like always.

Rob cared deeply for Jane, but couldn’t help but feel a bit angry about all of this. He thought about how he hesitated from telling her that he had loved her back all those nights ago. Was that what was bothering her?

God, it felt like being in some sort of sitcom. Here he was, the clueless guy. No idea what was bothering the girl. Left to guess to the audience’s bemusement.

Well, he would appreciate someone telling him what was the matter.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Rob said to the others. “I’ll catch up.”

The others, namely Austin and Aaron, seemed to give Rob a concerned look as he bolted off down a pathway of roses. Rob was sure they worried for him, and was pretty grateful for that fact, but he needed a minute to process this.

He opened his phone to see a message:

2:45, Zoe: None of the boys want to get in practice before tonight’s set. Found a place near Tivoli Gardens that’ll take us in. No bullshit. You in?

She had sent it almost an hour ago.

The familiar feelings of infidelity swept across Rob again. Jane seems mad at you now, a voice told him. You think going off with Zoe is going to help?

But the other half of him felt his frustration with her. And more than that, clung to the text message and it’s words. No bullshit.

It felt like what he needed.

3:24, Rob: I’m down if you are. I’m in the gardens.

3:29, Zoe: I’ll meet you at the front gate in ten.

—

Rob and Zoe walked quickly across a few streets, making their way to what seemed like a rougher part of town. Local gave the two questioning looks, as if their appearance alone showed their american nature. Rob felt like an alien here, but followed behind Zoe, who seemed to know the way pretty well.

The two soon approached a glass door with the address on it.

“This is it,” Zoe said. She pressed a finger against the buzzer.

“Whozzit?” a distorted voice came in a thick accent.

“Zoe Davidson,” she responded. “Here for the space?”

The door made a loud buzzing noise, and Zoe pulled the door open with little difficulty. The two led themselves up a flight of stairs, to find a room thick with a concoction of smells.

Zoe moved to who seemed to be the owner of the place; a fat, balding man, highlighted by a backdrop of classic records hanging on the wall. The two shook hands.

“Good to see you,” the man said, before turning to Rob.

“Rob Pennie,” he introduced himself.

“Oh, I know who you are,” he said. He reached behind the counter and pulled out their latest LP—still saran-wrapped and price-tagged. “I keep a mint record of any new band that seems to make the news. Usually, I’ll get a fortune for a first pressing.”

Well, at least he’s honest, Rob thought. He tried not to turn his nose at the unholy mixture of cats and weed that filled the air.

But soon enough, the man showed them to a practice room, fitted with soundproof walls, and every instrument already prepared for them.

“Not sure what you plan to play as a rhythm section,” he said, “but have fun.”

The man closed the door, and the two were left alone.

Rob quickly sat himself behind the drum set. It felt good to be back here. Practicing, or just jamming, was something he was quickly loosing interest in on the road, or even time. He had brought a practice pad to play on the bus, but hadn’t so much as taken it out of it’s packaging. In the haze of touring and behind the scenes drama, he had lost that passion for playing with others. And last night’s show certainly didn’t help that.

“Ready?” Rob asked, tapping a few quick rudiments onto his knees as an impromptu warmup.

Zoe fiddled around on the floor, hooking up pedals. “I’m not done setting up my chain. I’m not a drummer. I can’t just beat the shit out of stuff and make it sound good.”

Rob laughed, and waited the extra minute for Zoe to hook up each pedal, then turn them up and tune up.

“What did you have in mind?” Rob asked.

But instead of a response, Zoe quickly turned on the desired pedals, and turned to Rob.

She was wearing a guitar.

“Warm up song?” She asked him.

“I didn’t realize you could do guitar,” he admitted, trying to wipe the dumb look off of his face. Luckily, she had quickly turned around, talking into the live mic:

“If you don’t remember this shit, you were never in high school.”

Zoe’s fingers slammed down a familiar chord, then another, followed by this grungely, thick riff.

Rob’s mind scanned every song he could think of with a riff like this. Who as this band?

Seemingly sensing Rob’s hesitation, Zoe moved up to the mic again, and hummed a familiar note, before descending down and playing again. A melody more recognizable when played on trumpet.

It was all it took for Rob to realize the song. Laughing as the did it, he counted the two off, and began Conquest by The White Stripes. This time, it was Rob who swung the microphone towards him, craning his neck to the side as he sang:

And then in the strange way things happen
Their roles were reversed from that day
The hunted became the huntress
The hunter became the prey

The song ended quickly, and the two were warmed up and ready to play.

“Damn,” Zoe said into the microphone. “The pipes on this guy. Ever record backing for In Bloom?”

“Jane does that shit,” Rob called back. “I beat these things.”

“Shame,” she said. “I got to do backing on one of our deep cuts once. Still one of my favorite songs to play live.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got then.” Rob joked, before raising the sticks and counting them into a fast jam.

—

An hour passed in seconds. The two played through almost every genre of music playable between the two instruments. From classic rock, through to 80’s rock and grunge, right into post-hardcore and even emo, they managed to cover nearly every song of the childhood, and a few songs they still secretly liked.

The impromptu performance ended with Zoe on guitar, using her chain to play two octaves simultaneously, playing ferociously over vocals and a thick drum beat laid down by Rob. It was their own cover of Hey Man Nice Shot, by Filter, except a good bit faster and twice as heavy.

Over the deep guttural barrage of noise, Rob screamed the final vocals, nearly shredding his vocal chords to hit notes far out of his typical range.

I wish I would've met you
I wish I would've met you
I wish I would've met you
I wish I would've met you
I'd say nice shot

Rob rolled on the cymbals, before feeling the left stick fly out of his hand, doused in sweat. In a fit of euphoria and rage, he chucked the other one across the room, striking a table of cans, sending a few flying off and crashing to the floor.

Zoe, meanwhile, held out the final note of the song, shaking the guitar violently, then striking the strings, again and again, feeling out the distorted noise that emitted from them. Then, she used a pedal, slowly lowing the noise into nothingness, bringing order back into the room once more.

Rob gasped for air, having played his all into that session. Looking down at his hands, he had managed to break the callouses he had formed this season of playing, and saw the torn skin begin to bleed again. Thick drops of sweat poured from his hair, and coated the entire kit from the session.

“Fuck me, man,” Zoe said. She had walked around the kit to see what was up. “You fucking killed your hands.”

“And my voice,” Rob croaked out. He stood up and walked to the table he had recently attacked, picking up a rag that was nearby and covering his hands.

“You can sing, I’m telling you,” Zoe said, having walking back over to him.

“I can scream,” he joked. “And not very well.” He laughed at his own joke, but felt a hand grab his face and pull it up to face Zoe’s.

“Don’t put yourself down, man,” Zoe said calmly. “Just cause you don’t play it in the band doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

The two locked eyes for a moment, and the next, Zoe immediately dove in, smashing her lips against his.

Last time this had happened, back in the states, Rob had immediately pulled away.

Not this time.

The kiss deepened, and the two slowly caressed each other, coated in the grime of the room, the sweat from the session, and the blood on his hands.

After half a minute, Rob eventually pulled away for air. But as Zoe came back for more, Rob finally pulled back.

“Just—“ he sighed, turning to the table and opening a can of soda. “Just—give me a minute…”

He had expected her to react in anger, but Zoe simply bent down and found another rag, and began to wipe her face off. “It’s cool,” she said. “I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Rob said. “It’s that—“

“You can’t. Not yet.” She said. “Believe it or not I’ve been though this before. You spend all this time committed to someone and suddenly, you’ve got a license to fuck. And at first, it sounds like this glorious thing. Like, you get all the benefits of being together without any of the cost. But then, when you’re with someone else…it’s like you’re doing something wrong. But not because you’re physically with that person. But because you want to be with that person. You can’t just have meaningless sex anymore.”

Rob remained silent, but knew it only confirmed what Zoe was thinking.

“How did yours turn out?”

“It ended, obviously,” she said. “But I still see him everyday. So it’s hard to forget.”

”Andy?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“You told me you caught him cheating,” Rob began to question.

Zoe smiled. “It’s easier to explain to people like that. But…in reality, we agreed to just be casual after a while. It was becoming a strain on everyone else, so we decided to just take it back a step. Turned out, I just couldn’t handle being with him part time while he went off with other women. I cared about him too much. And that…was my biggest mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t really care about me.”

The two were silent for a moment, before both could hear Zoe’s phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out.

“That’s my ride,” she said. “See you tonight.”

And with that, she vanished out the door, and left Rob alone.

—

He ran back to the Gardens and met back up with the main group, after having cleaned himself off enough to be in public.

“Where’d you go?” Austin asked when he saw Rob, and no doubt how sweaty he had been.

“Found a place to practice,” he said. “I needed the time away.”

Austin nodded, seemingly satisfied, and continued on. He had only been gone 90 minutes or so, and Jane was still nowhere to be found.

“Rob?” Lyla asked, cutting his assumed veil of silence as they walked.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got blood on your hands.”

Rob looked down instinctually, to see the bandages he had hastily taped on had leaked, and thick pools of blood threatened to ooze out from their source.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I do.”

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Rob slept, but he certainly didn’t sleep well.

It was a rough first night on the road. Feeling every bump and bend in the road beneath him, in the darkness of his bunk, he felt more like cargo than a passenger. And that actually might have been true.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, Rob slipped out his phone, groaning at the bright cool light that shot from his screen. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked up the band on Instagram via their hashtag.

He couldn’t shake the feeling from his mind that what they had performed that night was just…lacking. The setlist was shorter than it should have been, and the passive energy that seemed to radiate from Jane affected everyone else’s playing.

Rob scrolled past the first few videos, seeing the shitty image quality of the band playing from the audience. Then a few selfies, a couple of photos of audience members wearing the merch…

Then a handful of images of Rob and Zoe outside of the Vicarious tour bus. The captions on photos with Rob, Zoe, or both of them ranged from reasonable to downright creepy:

Rob and Zoe from #InBloom and #Vicarious! Great show from both groups.

Couldn’t grab a pic with Jane but got one with Rob. Next best thing. #InBloom

Is #RobAndZoe a thing? Can it be a thing? #InBloom #Vicarious

Diese leute scheinen ziemlich nahe … #InBloom

Sie sind hinreißend. Ich hoffe, sie bleiben zusammen. #InBloom #Vicarious

Got this shot of Rob from #InBloom hanging with the #Vicarious bassist. Where’s Jane?

—

Rob closed down the app and stared at his home-screen, unwilling to look at any more of it. Smaller chat like this rarely made any publicity waves, but it bothered him that strangers seemed so very interested in his life. It may have sounded great to have adoring fans to some, but to Rob, it seemed like a hassle. And those girls who ran to the Vicarious tour bus in the first place seemed rather entitled to the photos, rather than requesting of them.

The frustration of a mediocre show, on top of the frustration that Jane would likely be seeing this if she looked into it, further on top of her unspoken anger, just left Rob with a general sense of dread. He dozed back off into a light sleep soon after.

—

Soon his insomnia subsided, and Rob found himself awakening to Jane’s form moving about him. When had she gotten into the bunk with him? What time was it?

His thoughts faded as Jane began to gently kiss him, apologizing for last night.

”I just had… a weird night…” she had said.

“Yeah,” Rob muttered. His voice had a deeper timbre this time of morning, and he could barely be bothered to enunciate his words. “Me too.”

But as soon as the moment began, Austin’s complaints of their noise ended them, and Jane was gone as quickly as she seemed to have arrived.

It seemed to be a rough thing forming between them. He was glad that Jane had joined him in bed, and that she had, at the least, somewhat made amends for whatever was up with her last night. But there was no real explanation, apart from admitting she wasn’t very sober. Rob didn’t but that it was the drugs alone that made her so mellow and grey. She had been far more fucked up in the past and put on a greater show than that. And for that, he was still slightly frustrated that she was gone again, even if it was more Austin’s fault this time than hers.

Rob groaned, rolled over, and kept his eyes shut for another few minutes. The relentless rolling of the bus had now stopped, and he was going to absorb every minute of that feeling.

—

“Ah, fuck!!” Was the first noise that Rob had heard after dozing off again. He looked up to see Aaron averting his eyes, after having opened Rob’s curtain. He must have tried to wake Rob up without realizing he was sleeping naked.

Rob laughed slightly, not even bothering to shut the curtain. “You should’ve known better man.”

Aaron shut Rob’s curtain for him, his eyes still buried in the crook of his arm. “It’s past mid-morning. I thought I would see if you were alright. Fucking serves me right…”

Rob kept up his laughter as he heard Aaron stomp away from the back of the bus. It was going to take some getting used to being this near everyone.

He slipped out of bed, putting on a clean pair of jeans and a dark red shirt, and slipped over to the front of the bus.

Out here, Rob made for the fridge first, pulling out an ale and drinking half of it straight away. It was probably a bit early to be drinking for most people, but Rob felt just slightly better with a little booze in his system. Especially after a mostly sleepless night.

On the couch, Jane sat, eyes closed and listening to music. Aaron was also nearby, outside of the bus but still visible through the window, talking to Lyla.

“Jesus Christ, Aaron,” Rob muttered to himself. “She’s probably got a boyfriend, dude.”

“She does,” a familiar voice came. Austin had slipped out from the back, his head a tangled, massive mess. “Trust me, I asked about it the first time we all met.”

Rob laughed. “You think Aaron knows?”

“Probably not,” Austin said. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. “Not that I would tell him.”

“Where are we?” Rob asked. He had yet to check the full itinerary they had formed.

“Copenhagen, I think.” Austin said. “I think the plan is to go up and do Oslo and Stockholm, then swing down and hit Eastern Europe, before going west.”

“We’ll be through twenty countries in like thirty days,” Rob said. “That’s fucking insane.”

“Welcome to Europe,” Austin said simply.

The bathroom door opened, and as soon as Sam slipped out, Austin slipped in, desperately needing a shower. Rob waited for a bit, letting Jane listen to her music, until Austin finished, then showered himself.

Afterwards, he glanced out the window to get a good sense of where they were.

It seemed to be some sort of rest area or gas station on the outskirts of the city. In the distance, Rob could see the buildings of the town. They had the whole day to themselves before playing another set that night.

Rob slipped himself onto the couch, taking the opportunity to mess with Jane’s hair and solitude, simultaneously. “Hey, J,” he said, trying to move on from whatever strangeness lay between them. “We’re in Copenhagen. Want to go check it out?”

Rob smiled, trying to play off his frustrations with her.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still a bit mad about last night, but he was still very much confused about the whole thing. This was what they agreed on. If it was Zoe that was angering Jane…well, he wasn’t sure he thought that was fair. Andy didn’t bother Rob, or get into his head as much as Zoe seemed to get into Jane’s. What was going on?

“Going into town?” Austin asked, having come from the back of the bus. He seemed already dressed to go.

Sam emerged soon enough behind him. “Mind if we come with?”

Rob tried to suppress his immediate negative reaction. One of the few moments he could have had alone with Jane, and it was already being taken away from him. Even if he did like his bandmates.

“Sure,” Rob said simply. He may have been dissatisfied with them coming along, but who knew? Maybe they all needed to hang out for a bit to get over last night’s funk.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

“It’s all set up?” Rob asked a stage hand, setting down the last of his drum hardware. The coolest part of these smaller venues were the knowledgable stagehands. Unlike huge venues, these people practically breathed these old buildings—knowing everything about acoustics, sound design, and more. Aaron had even been impressed, and impression Aaron in sound design was quite a hard feat.

“All set,” the stage hand said. Satisfied, Rob made his way back to the bar. He was nearly to Jane, who seemed to be talking to Andy and another guy. Something about the minimal interaction he had had with the frontman was beginning to bother him. The way Andy would look at him, he felt like…well, he supposed he felt like how Zoe felt about Jane.

Frustrated that someone would dislike him for no clear reason or motive. But, still, Rob wanted to find a course of action that would make amends. He was nothing if not pragmatic, and touring with enemies with not a goal of his.

He was just about in earshot of the bar, when a small hand wrapped itself around his wrist.

Zoe pulled Rob around and motioned for the back door.

“You’ll be playing an hour-long set here soon,” she said. “Don’t you think you could take a break from it?”

Rob shot one last look to the bar, before realizing he probably hadn’t had been noticed yet. Nodding, he followed Zoe to the door, slipping his hoodie on and sunglasses, and making a break for the Vicarious tour bus, and entering before a single soul could recognize either of them. Funny, how that worked out for them. The bassist of one band and the drummer of another could slip out in front of their own concert-goers, unnoticed. Rob was sure no matter how wrapped in clothing Jane got, she would be immediately recognized. Perks of being a rhythm section member, he supposed.

Inside of the bus, Rob and Zoe found themselves alone. Apart from the driver, who slept surprisingly still upright in his seat, each other person was either inside the venue or at some other location.

Zoe moved to the back of the bus, where the large bed sat as opposed to bunks, and threw herself on it.

“Shit,” she muttered into the sheets. “I can’t deal with that many people. Gives me a headache.”

Rob sat down on the bed next to her. “I guess I’m just frustrated at why I’m already enemies with some of those people.”

Zoe lifted her head from the sheets and looked to Rob. “Get used to it. It seems to be a running thing with these people.”

After that, neither of them spoke for a bit, and Rob laid himself down onto the bed and closed his eyes.

Zoe hooked her phone up to the speaker system set up in the room, and the odd meter and Radiohead-esque sounds of The Window by Thrice filled the room. Over the altering meter and beat, Rob could hear the words:

I found a note scratched in the wall
In a pained and earnest scrawl
The hand I recognized was somehow mine already slight with dread
There's no wind and there's no light
There's no song in here at night
There's nowhere to hide, we're terrified
It's all inside of your head

And as the song devolved into the breakdown, and ringing guitars and syncopated hits filled the room, Rob found himself longing for this sort of sound to be meshed into the sound of In Bloom. Sure, what they had was strong, but it always felt like a constant battle between Rob’s and Jane’s desires for the sound to be a certain way. Especially these days.

“So,” Zoe said soon after the song faded out, “I, uh, I don’t know how to ask this, but—“

“Jane,” Rob finished. Zoe’s silence was as strong as a confirmation from her.

“We’re doing good, I guess,” Rob continued. “We agreed on some better terms, so I think we’ll be far less dramatic going forward. I’m just glad for it since we’ll all be so close during this tour. …And I think that’s why the Andy thing frustrates me so much.”

“What terms?” Zoe asked simply.

“We’re casual now, I guess,” Rob said. “And yeah, after all that bullshit I caused asking that of her in the first place, here we are again. Except this time I’ve got a little more peace about it.”

“You didn’t seem to have peace about it back in Minneapolis.”

“That just feels like so long ago,” Rob said. His eyes were locked to the ceiling, but he felt Zoe inching her body closer to his on the bed. “And I know that was hardly a week ago at this point, but trust me when I say I feel like a different person now than I did then.”

“A lot has happened,” Zoe said, softer now.

“Yeah,” Rob sighed. “I guess it’s just nice to decompress like this. After all the traveling and touring. We’re locked into a better schedule with much less hassle now. It’s—“

Rob cut himself off as he felt Zoe’s arm wrap around his torso. It was only then that Rob realized what Zoe was doing the whole time he was ranting.

“Zoe, I—“ Rob uttered out. He felt Zoe place her head on his chest, and rest there.

“We’re just decompressing,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

Rob’s tension slowly left his body, and he instinctually raised a hand, sliding it into her hair.
There was nothing wrong with what was happening. So why did it feel wrong?

Rob’s eyes slowly shut, and neither of them moved for a few minutes. A knock came at the bus door after a while, and Zoe rose without a word to see what was happening. Rob quickly got up from the bed, and straightened himself out, before following Zoe to the door.

“Look at this,” Zoe said, beckoning Rob to the window.

Outside, two young german women were smiling and knocking on the door, trying hard to peer into the one-way glass that separated the outside world from the bus. Behind them, two security guards marched forward, probably wondering how the two girls had gotten this close to the bus.

Zoe reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Rob said. “If they see I’m in here—“

“They’ll what?” Zoe asked, “Make some blog post about it? At this point, it doesn’t even matter.”

Zoe opened the door before Rob could say anything else. She stepped outside of the bus, talking to the two girls and answering their questions as best she could. Rob slipped out of the bus as well, closing the door behind him and trying to keep a low profile.

Unfortunately for them, the rest of the waiting crowd had looked over to see the commotion, and soon, several of them made their way over.

By the time those two security guards had made it, they could only keep watch, as Zoe and Rob both engaged fans, trying to make their way to the venue.

In all of the madness, Rob hear a few shouts of “Jane,” and “it’s her,” and looked up to see what was going on.

He could only just see the back of Jane’s head, as she walked away, towards the venue. Why was she out here?

“Alright, move back!” The security guys chanted, and moved Zoe and Rob from the crowd to the back door, letting them into the back of the venue.

As soon as they had arrived, Zoe slipped into a green room labeled ‘Vicarious.’

“Catch up with you later,” she said. “Good luck!”

The door closed quickly behind her, and Rob was left in search of Jane and his other band members.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt this unnecessary guilt about what had happened. All the two had done was lay in a bed for a few minutes together. Why was he feeling this way? Perhaps it was because he saw Jane, or perhaps it had been because…he enjoyed it?

So much for simplicity.

“Where’ve you been?” A voice came from his right. Rob turned to see Sam, who tossed him a pair of sticks. “We’re about to go on.”

“Sorry,” Rob said, following him to the side of the stage. “It’s been weird today.”

—

During the set, Rob could help but notice Jane’s lack of enthusiasm on stage. No matter what was going on behind the scenes, Rob felt like Jane would always put on a great show. It was part of their act, and, if he was being honest, part of why they grew this large in this first place.

But here, on the first stop of the tour, Jane seemed to almost slur her words, hitting the notes but hardly doing much more than that. And the attitude seemed almost contagious, as Rob found himself keeping the tempo, rather than playing the part to satisfaction.

When it was time to play Weatherman, Jane had introduced the song afterwards just moments before Rob was going to count them off. Austin shot a glance back to him, to which he could only shrug, and count them into the next song. It was sad, really, especially since Weatherman was one of the more fun covers they played.

Once the setlist finished, the band slipped off quietly, and Rob ended up grabbing a microphone and thanking everyone for coming out themselves. He then made his way to the back, grabbing a drink from the table.

“Where the fuck is Jane?” Austin asked, approaching the table as well.

“I don’t know,” Rob said, “I haven’t talked to her much today. Did I miss something?”

“Not that I know of,” Austin shrugged off. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Hey, guys?” Somebody asked behind them. Both men turned around to see their new busmate, Lyla, standing around with a bundle of XLR cords. “I could use some help with teardown.”

Rob nodded, and both of them went off, helping Lyla pack up their audio equipment, and tearing down their own stuff, before helping Aaron load the merch back onto the trailer connected to the bus. By the time the band was set to leave, it was the early hours of the morning, and Rob was pretty confident he had been awake for nearly 24 straight hours.

Inside the bus, Grant was just beginning to warm the bus up for the trip to the next stop, and congratulated the band on the success of the first show. Rob thanked him, and slipped to the back of the bus.

A pile of clothes greeted him along the floor, and next to his head, Rob could see Jane had pulled herself into bed a while ago. In his own bunk, a joint lay on the clean sheets, and Rob silently thanked her for the gift, slipping it into his bag.

Within five minutes, Rob had brushed his teeth, torn off the clothes that had long since dried of sweat, and slipped into his bunk.

For a first show, things had gone much less smoothly than he had hoped. He was working through fighting of feelings of monogamy, on top of the fact that a growing schism was forming between members of the two bands. On top of that, Jane had acted increasingly strange, and the two of them hadn’t spoken since earlier on the bus.

Was that going to be the new normal? Rough sex, then silence? Rob hoped not. Loosing one of the most constant people in his life was what Rob had feared the most. It was why he hesitated to tell her how he felt in the first place, why he mistakenly suggested the new terms of the relationship, and ultimately why he agreed to those terms in the first place. After all of that, things were still growing stranger by the day, and Rob had to admit to himself…it was only serving to make him long to be away from it all.

He thought of Zoe as well. What they had done. How calm it had been. If only things were so simple with his own relationship.

If only things were so simple with Jane.

Descension [CLOSED]

Kiran of HIGHCOVE

The chambers of High Keep were sparse and empty.

Thrayne I filled these halls with great feasts and sculptures from around all the known world, and Thrayne II would occasionally hold a great feast with the Lords of Dyraen, filling the halls with the beautiful music of Pare and of Central Valley.

Thrayne III was much less inclined for the matters of music and feasts. After the sudden death of his father, he ordered much of the Keep’s treasures either sold or returned to his homestead of Delta. As such, when Kiran roamed these halls in thought, his footfalls could be heard from hundreds of feet away.

Kiran was much more introspective now, more than ever.

He was, among many other things, a servant. For Kiran was a Stout, and the Stouts served the Thraynes for nearly a hundred years.

He remembered a time when Thrayne III was much younger than before; back when he was simply known as little Alvar, during a visit to Delta:

—

”Lord Stout?” Alvar had asked one day, as Kiran explained to the boy the lands under his father’s rule. “You said you were from Yulden Rise.”

“Yes, my child,” Kiran had answered simply.

“Why did you leave your home for Highcove?”

Kiran pursed his lips, unsure of how to explain such bloody history to a young child. After a moment, he came with his response: “Remember, child, how I told you that Dyraen was many countries in one, once?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Alvar responded.

“Many years ago, my grandfather was the ruler of one of those countries. That was Yulden Rise. He was good friends with your own grandfather, Thrayne I. And our grandfathers knew, that separate we were a weak people. The magical creatures of the land knew this. From the Tigan and Kulerians, to even the ancient Bachazar, they would soon sense our weakness. So we decided to join together, and unite the nations under our own.”

“So why must you live in Highcove?” Alvar asked again.

“Because of the unity,” Kiran explained, “Our families were joined together. The Thraynes are a family of strength and power, so they were the family that would rule the new nation. And the Stouts were powerful in material, industry, and wisdom, so they remained in Yulden Rise, and sent their firstborn to aide the king.”

“Do you want to aide my father?” Alvar asked. “Or was it because you had to?”

“It is a great honor to serve the King,” Kiran said. “I don’t take it lightly. I was bred for this position, just as you were bred to serve as King after your father.”

“I don’t want to be King,” Alvar had said. “I want to stay here, in Delta.”

“We do not get to choose our circumstances, dear Alvar,” Kiran explained. “Only what we do which the life we are given.”

—

That was years ago. Now, Thrayne II was dead, and Alvar was now Thrayne III, King of Highcove and all Dyraen, sovereign Lord over All Men. And Kiran would serve him, as he served his father before him, and as his father served him before, and on it would go.

Perhaps one day Thrayne III would be ready for the full truth of the matter. How has grandfather and Kiran’s had actually not united the great nations, but crushed them and beat them into submission. Why it was dangerous for Ira of Irianson to be his wife.

For Ira was of Irianson, and how rebellious Irianson grew by the day.

There was much to fear and much to do, yet little work being done.

A sad time indeed. It was times like these that Kiran felt his age, his waning years approaching him. He would need to retire soon, and his son Ian would reign. The new generation learning from the past, crafting a better future.

Hopefully Kiran would leave behind a world worth living in.

Emara of PARE

Morning had come to Pare, and yet the storms over Pare remained.

A few leaks had sprung about in the brothel; causing Emara and Alren to loose sleep, placing buckets to catch the water before it rotted their wooden floor.

Once the last of their patrons had left their work and home, Emara and Alren emerged, taking stock, claiming their shares of the prostitute’s wages, and helping them clean up after the men who had laid with them the night before.

One of the wenches, Harlen, approached Emara, asking to speak with her alone. Typically, issues concerning patrons were sorted through Alren, but Emara agreed, and the two women closed the door to Harlen’s room, and sat on her working bed.

“The man I was servicing last night,” Harlen started, “he grew into a furious rage when he learned I had slept with a Lleylian.” Her red locks of hair shook in front of her face, and she seemed very near crying. A spot upon her face was still stained a crimson red. “He struck me hard across the face, and demanded a refund.”

“Alren told me,” Emara admitted. “I’m very sorry you had to experience that.”

“He went to another brothel without a refund, or so he told me,” Harlen admitted. “But he told me I would pay for having touch him with unclean hands. He threatened to bring his whole party back to beat me.”

Harlen let a tear fall down her face, and Emara held the young woman to her. Many of her prostitutes were experienced, hard women; still young in face but old in wisdom. But Harlen was a new recruit; her doe-like eyes and deep, red hair set her apart as a beauty, no doubt, but she had never spoken of her origins or her past.

“We’ll have the other girls buy your goods for you,” Emara said. “You don’t have to leave until you feel comfortable. And I’ll get Alren to find out who this man is for you. We’ll tell you when he leaves.”

“Thank you, Emara,” Harlen said, now more solemnly. She held Emara in a tight embrace, which worried her. Growing close relations to these girls was a dangerous game. Playing favorites could lead to accusations, or worse.

“Do not be ashamed to admit your fear,” Emara said. “You must embrace your fear if you wish to overcome it.”

Harlen nodded into Emara’s shoulder, letting out a shudder. She seemed little more than a girl.

“Is it true,” Emara asked. Her curiosity had gotten to the best of her. “You have been with a Lleylian.”

Harlen composed herself, sitting up and wiping her face clean. “It’s true,” she admitted. “I am from Lyrran, where the Yulerd Forest envelops our lands and the magic of the forest may sometimes escape. I was good friends with a Lleylian as a child. He was my best friend, and, in time, a lover of mine.”

“What came of this Lleylian?” Emara asked.

Harlen looked to her mistress with pained eyes. “He was killed by a man of Irianson. Over a matter of thirty gold.”

Alvar of HIGHCOVE

Ira tended not to be physical with Alvar, but that standard was easily broken when she seemed to want something.

She had ambushed Alvar easily in his chambers, as his servants helped dress him for his meeting with aides and Lords. It would be here he would decide what would be done with prostitution in their lands.

“Your grace!” She had exclaimed, shooing away his servants with no more than a motion of her hand. “It feels like it’s been so long long since I’ve seen you.”

Ira approached Alvar, and stroked the stubble upon his face. “You could grow a respectable beard if you wished, your grace. Like your fathers.”

Alvar winced at her words, but couldn’t deny her fully. Ira was a older woman, sure; her age showing in gentle wrinkles along her eyes and face. But she remained as sharp and beautiful and the Wretched Peaks. And just as scary, too.

“Perhaps when I’m older,” Alvar dismissed.

“You are nearly twenty, Thrayne III,” Ira announced. “You are rightfully of age to do as you please. Do not be swayed by those far older than you.”

It was an ironic statement, coming from her.

Alvar looked up to Ira, giving a gentle grin. “You think me as naive, my wife. I know you want my ruling to be in your favor.”

“Oh, let us not talk of rulings now,” Ira said, pulling her husband to her breast. “When is the last time we simply enjoyed each other?”

Alvar frowned, although he doubted Ira could see it. The number of times the two had made love since their marriage less than a year ago, Alvar was unsure of. But he was sure it seemed to coincide with various rulings, demands, and favors. Still…it was hard not to take advantage of the situation.

“Can we discuss this later?” Ira breathed out, her body motioning for the bed. Alvar sighed, but moved with her to the bed. Dressing himself would need to come later.

—

An hour has passed, and now Alvar found himself surrounded by many men with many titles. This was the Regency Room - a place where Alvar would decide matters of the nation.

He sat to the left of his wife, Ira, and Lord Stout, High Chancellor of Highcove and personal aide to the King. Two very different people to him, both far elder, and of highly different minds.

Ira, his wife, was of Irianson—stronghold of the east. Few ventured into the high walls of the castle city, and even fewer ventured out. She had been married to him in an effort to make amends for Thrayne II and his distaste for the Irianite people.

Lord Stout was another elder man, this one given to him by his late father. As a Stout has always served a Thrayne, Alvar took him on ceremoniously, but was growing to like his ideals. However, dealing with both of them took some dealing, and usually Alvar took to conceding to whoever seems the more arguable.

Also present in the room was the Chief Officer of the Dyraenian force, as well as the Heartspeaker— a representative of the “heart” of their nation, and specifically of Pare and of Lyrran. His position was creative to quell a strike on timber and textiles years prior.

“I urge you, your grace,” Ira continued from her earlier digression, “prostitution causes nothing but suffering for our people. It is a spreader of disease and of low class lust. Irianson has done long and prosperously without condoning such acts.”

“We’re well aware of Irianson’s laws, Queen Ira,” the Heartspeaker interjected. He knew Ira on a personal level, and loved to drop the ceremonious “your grace” in order to prove it. “You bring up such matters each time we convene here, in the Regency Room.”

“Your grace” Ira muttered under her breath, cut off by the Chief Officer’s statement.

“You see,” the Chief Officer spoke, “Your grace’s military force is mostly unaffected by these matters. If crime moves from the brothels to the taverns, it will take the same prudent vigilance to remove it. However, I must concede it improves morale for our men.”

“Is that how you want to be remembered?” Queen Ira said, grasping at Alvar’s shoulder. “As the man who let his army lay with whores?” 

“The removal of prostitution does not come freely,” Kiran finally spoke. His weathered tone rang fresh in the king’s ears. “Our cities such as Lyrran hold wealth in the matter. And Pare depends on it’s traveling guests. It will be of great cost to them to impose such a law.”

“Lord Stout is right, your grace,” the Heartspeaker said. “Our people need the money these travelers bring in, and slavery is not tolerated in our lands. Each worker is of their own free mind to do so. To bring prostitution to an end would spell doom for Pare.”

“Then let Pare suffer,” Ira said, her intonation taking her into the realm of screaming. “It is of no use to us. That center for sin and indulgence has been allowed free reign far too long. Not only does it harbor sin, but those against our own kind as well.”

“Might I remind you, my Queen,” Kiran spoke, “that those of all races are freely permitted in all cities. Even those who wish to enter Irianson.”

A deep silence entered the room, for it was common knowledge that only suffering would ever come to a nonhuman creature that entered Irianson—law or no law.

But again Ira spoke: “I speak not of other races but of deceitful creatures in other races. They nearly brought an end to Irianson. Let them not bring an end to the center of our country.”

“So now you fight for Pare?” the Heartspeaker asked. “I understand the history of Irianson is long and bloody. So is that of many of our cities that were once their own country. But we are united now, and we must remain so. The law must be uniform throughout all Dyraen. There must be no exception. If anything, Irianson’s ban on magic should be further discussed—not this talk of prostitution. Our draconian laws on magic are half the reason the people starve in the streets.”

Ira ventured to speak, but was silenced by Alvar’s hand, which raised quickly and demanded silence. The other hand ventured to his face, grasping the bridge of his nose.

He had heard enough.

“I must sleep on these matters,” he spoke. “I do not take these matters lightly. We reconvene here in the morning. You are all dismissed.”

Nodding, each member of this meeting rose, bowed, and exited. All except for Ira, who remained.

“Your grace, I—“

“You are dismissed, Ira,” Alvar cut off. “I do not wish to discuss this further.”

Ira froze at first, than delivered a cut nod, before excusing herself from the room. She might have been an Irianite at heart, but she new decorum, and she knew when Alvar as not pleased.

Alvar had once thought the crown meant bringing hope to his people. Yet he sat in a Regency Room, listening to the quarrels of elders, while his childhood friends fought in his army and indulged themselves in his city.

Above all, he felt rather wasted here. If the elders wanted to bicker about their future, perhaps he should simply give them what they wanted.

That was, if they could ever agree on anything.

Descension [CLOSED]

Alvar of HIGHCOVE

Ira had left her side of the bed cold and bare as the King awoke from his sleep.

It was not an unusual occurrence, for the Queen to rise far before him. Not only was she nearly twelve years his elder, but she was also very dedicated to ensuring that their keep was in working order. She had little trust for the work of aides and their subservients.

King Alvar Thrayne III was a long title for a man little more than a boy, but it was his own. And while the long illustrious history of great works all file under the work of the name Thrayne, Alvar had little use for it.

Ira concerned herself far more with the business of Dyraen than Alvar even cared to. Had it not been for rights of secession, Alvar would’ve rather she handle the business of the lands he ruled than he. For this was a position he did not enjoy.

The Thrayne Family hailed from Delta—the city-turned-military base that made it easier to brief former and future royalty on the inner workings of the Dyraenian Force that the King held under him. It was there that Alvar grew in age, and there that Alvar longed for the most. Where most saw a stronghold of power, Alvar simply saw home.

It wasn’t very long ago at all.

But his father grew ill and passed in a fortnight, and the next day Alvar had left Delta for their nation’s capital of Highcove, and he had been present in these lands ever since.

Here, he was no longer Alvar, but King Thrayne III, boy ruler of Dyraen and surrounding lands. A position he thought he would assume in his later years. He was married off quickly to a woman nearly as old as his mother, in order to affirm the power in the Thrayne name. The elders in his family had held royal power for over a hundred years, and did not plan to let anyone take this away them. Even if it meant marrying a child to a grown woman.

Ira was nice to him, no doubt, but seemed happier in meetings with military leaders than at dinner with him. And he supposed he could not blame her. At these meetings she would tell him what others said, and he would either agree or disagree with their will. Mainly, agreeing seemed easier for him.

Lately, a new topic of discussion has come up—Ira wants to see to the end of prostitution on a national scale. She claims the immorality is damaging the reputation of Dyraen and causing the food shortages. Alvar feels like it’s unimportant, but only wants to appease her. His aides tell him such a ruling would be damaging to Pare and other cities reliant on the industry, but Ira claims otherwise.

Today would be the day he needed to decide.

So Alvar climbed out of bed, and prepared for another day of sitting and listening. Best to let the others decide Dyraen’s fate. He hadn’t lived in it for very long anyways.

Emara of PARE

Emara leaned her small frame up against a post near the back of the theater.

In front of her, rows upon rows of travelers and locals alike would soon fill the space, all gathered and ready to see what sort of tricks and magic would be performed on the stage.

Currently, each entertainer had been running through their typical routines. Men with their rowdy and sexual stories. Dwarves would come and make men livid as they performed party tricks with their women. A traveling Tigan would soon follow, with light forms of magic—something hard to find in Dyraen, but not so much in Pare.

Pare was the town each person in the Known World would visit at some point or another, but few would dwell longer than a weekend. It was the kind of town known for it’s crude nature and simple pleasures. All walks of life traveled here, either human from the east and west, or supernatural from the south. The only safe path for the nonhuman to travel to Pare was through another magic-friendly city to the south and east by the name of Lyrran, and even then, it was a dangerous path.

Once here, however, things grew much happier. There was no need to fear magic when it was celebrated all around you for cheap tricks and more gold. So the other races would come and go as they could, all venturing out the Yulerd Wood at some point or another, where all magic in Dyraen lie.

Satisfied with the practice performance, Emara slipped out from the theater and traveled quickly to her work.

It was dreary out this particular day—the sun was blotted out by grey, and the dirt floors became caked onto Emara’s boots and dress as mud. By the time she found her way to the staircase to work, she looked dreadful.

“I wouldn’t want that ‘one” Emara heard a voice to her left call out. She turned her head to see a burly, massive man pointing to her. His friend, another brute, laughed as they locked eyes.

“You said they’d be a cleaner lot,” the friend said. Emara paid their perversion no mind, ascending the steps and opening the door inside.

“If only they knew who they’d spoken to,” Emara muttered to herself.

In here, many of her employees milled about, cleaning the last of their bodies and dressing themselves accordingly. One of them, a wench that had grown rather fond of Emara, made her way over to her.

“Heavens, you’re filthy,” she said, kind as she could. “Is it that bad out?”

The wench approached Emara, but she pushed her away. “You’ve already prepared for the evening,” Emara said, “No need to make yourself filthy again. But yes, it’s miserable out.”

The patter of raindrops could be heard on the ceiling as Emara called attention to her workers. Her co-owner, Alren, was nowhere to be found, so Emara would need to start the evening of work herself.

“Take care of yourselves tonight, girls,” Emara said. “I’ve seen more cruelty on our streets as of late. Be sure to keep a mindful eye.”

“Yes, Emara,” the girls said in unison. Over years of work, Emara and Alren had built up enough blind trust into these women to ensure both their security and their income.

Owning a brothel in Pare was hard and dangerous work. But, in Emara’s mind, if she did not fight for the place she had built, she’d soon be forced to work within it.

Better to be the pimp than the whore.

At that moment, Alren finally showed his face, and Emara took her leave.

“I leave you with Alren,” she said to the girls, “I’ll be back once I’ve cleaned up.”

“Yes, Emara,” came the unified response, and Emara made her way into her private room, taking the time to bathe the filth away.

Sometimes she wondered how she had become the co-owner of one of Pare’s finest brothels. Perhaps it had been her resilience to prove her worth, or possibly a matter of luck.

Either way, the past did not matter now. All that mattered was the gold she could bring in to finally retire from this dreadful place.

“Emara,” a voice came, gently. She turned to see Alren at her door. Her co-worker, as well as her lover, he was truly a partner in crime. That is, if Dyraen even got around to banning prostitution. “A customer has a complaint. I wanted to ask what you thought I should do.”

“What is it?” Emara asked, sitting up in the bathtub.

“He’s upset that the girl he is with has slept with a Lleylian. He claims he wants his money back to go to a brothel with honor.”

Emara thought for a moment, frustrated. This is Pare, she thought. Not Irianson. Did he expect me to turn down customers due to their race?

“Tell him he is free to choose another girl,” Emara said, “but there will not be a refund.”

Alren nodded, dropping his ceremonious conversation, and talking to Emara as she was—his wife.

“I wanted to give the bastard a refund,” he admitted. “Just to get him to leave.”

“We can’t afford to be rash anymore, Alren,” Emara said. “Not when business has been slowing so much. Not when Thrayne III weighs our livelihoods in his mind. If he bans prostitution, we need to be ready. And that means saving all that we can.”

Alren nodded, and left Emara in peace. She feared the power a young boy hundreds of miles away from her had. And it was not only fear, but anger.

Anger that the King has yet to visit their town when it brings so much gold into their country. And anger at his new wife from Irianson—a town known for it’s strict bans on prostitution and magic.

Only time would tell what would become of Emara and Alren’s way of life.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Walking around on a moving bus was going to take some getting used to.

Although it was a quick drive to the venue, something about the ground moving from beneath you was starting to make Rob queasy. Anything longer for a half hour, and he would probably need to close his eyes.

Good thing he was spending the rest of the month and more in the wretched little thing. Large enough for the four of them, plus three extra was one thing. But given enough time, any place is too small for someone.

Rob spent some of that travel time in his bottom bunk. Aside from having to stoop down to nearly the floor to climb in, it seemed roomy enough for him. A lamp could bring down enough light for reading, and the curtain which he could open and closed was definitely thick enough to bring him near-total darkness. After weeks of this he assumed this was going to be the best feature.

He closed the curtain and felt around the bed, especially the ceiling and how much room it would give him. Or rather, as he was currently accessing…them.

“Yeah…” Rob muttered to himself, imagining positions in his head. “…Maybe it could work.”

The bus came to a stop soon enough, and the doors were opened. They were parked presently in a fenced-off dirt lot, which lined up against the back of the venue. The venue itself was a small black building, and from what Rob read from documents Harold sent occasionally, the audience pit was little more than the space between the bar and the stage.

Somewhere between 200 and 300 people this night… Rob remembered from a conversation he had with Harold back in Atlanta. Or was it St. Louis? He was too tired to recall.

Either way, In Bloom had never really played a venue quite like this. Not headlining. Or…rather, half-headlining. One of the deals Harold struck with Vicarious’ tour manager was that the two bands would alter who went first on a night-by-night basis. The difference in their popularity overseas was razor-thin (although Harold hinted that the edge went to In Bloom), so it seemed to be the best was of settling the matter.

The venue itself was open and accepting of the two bands, or so Rob had been told. One of the nice perks of this particular venue (and hopefully some others) was that they’d be able to look and feel all around the stage and location hours before a single patron entered the doors. The element of surprise was just a bit higher this time around, rather than setting up as the audience watched.

It all felt a good bit more traditional than the festival circuit, which was a welcome change to Rob. But he wasn’t ready to check out the inside just yet…

As everyone exited the bus, Rob slipped a hand around Jane’s arm, holding her back. With the other, he pressed a button, closing the bus door.

“You know,” he said, “this might be our only chance today.” He stood behind her, and slipped his head around her’s, kissing the side of her neck.

“Let’s see how these bunks work out.”

As the two made their way to the back (where no windows lie, thankfully), Rob caught a glance from Austin, who seemed to be heading back to the bus. He stopped in his tracks, and furled a brow.

Rob simply gave him the finger, and both he and Jane slipped to the back of the bus, and closed the curtain.

—

Afterwards, Rob found himself in the venue’s bathroom. Space had been tight in the bus, and Rob needed a more open place to wash his face off and make sure he gave off no obvious signs of what had happened.

Not that it really mattered. Not to anyone in the band. Grant would probably be nonplussed, Aaron supported, and Lyla…Rob didn’t even know. The two had barely exchanged words, but he was sure he’d get to know her at some point.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he found himself more worried about Zoe than anything else when it came to showing marks. Which worried him. Why did he care so much about that?

Trying not to think too much on it, Rob slipped a thin hoodie over his body, wearing the sleeves down, instead of his usual pushed-up style. He found it uncomfortable, but both of his forearms contained scratches that still shined a bright red.

Splashing water on his face, Rob finished up and slipped out into the venue.

It was a clean enough place.

The walls were styled in an older, almost victorian fashion. The bar was open already for the band, and Austin, Rob, and Aaron talked here. The old wooden floors led Rob to the stage, raised just three feet above the ground. Tonight, Vicarious would open, so Trent was already hard at work setting up his kit. Once Vicarious finished tonight, he would help Rob set up his kit in order to minimize time between sets.

“What’s up, man,” Rob offered, sitting at the edge of the stage. “Wie gehts?”

“Dude, I don’t know shit about german,” Trent countered, but looked up, wiping his brow and smiling. “But I’m good.”

Rob stood to his feet and helped Trent set the rest of the kit up. “Manage to sneak your stash across the pond?” He asked.

Trent shook his head. “I’m just as desperate as you,” he said, “but I’ll let ya know when I find someone.”

“I hate to ask, but—“ Rob started. Trent quickly cut him off:

“Zoe?”

“Yeah.”

“Still on the bus, I think,” Trent said softly. “probably arguing with Andy again.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know man,” Trent sighed. “Shit’s been stressful lately. It isn’t like this normally. Or ever. We’re not dramatic people.”

“Sorry,” Rob started. “I don’t know how much of that is me or any other In Bloom person, but—“

“Don’t be,” Trent said. “We’re got our shit to deal with, same as you. Hopefully no one kills anyone this tour. But don’t count on it.”

Rob laughed. “Fuckin’ weird, isn’t it? Being here?”

“Yeah,” Trent responded. “Fuckin’ weird indeed.”

Rob slipped away shortly afterward, grabbing a beer from the bar and googling the band—something he picked up doing in the downtime, just to see what was being said.

The usual stuff graced his screen. Odd rumors, responses to Jane’s last interview, various talking heads…

…and an article concerning Zoe and Jane.

It was weird reading about two women he had grown to care for like this: some impersonal article claiming they have some sort of rocky relationship, and how it would ruin the tour. Rob, being the intermediate between the two, couldn’t help but feel just a bit responsible for the article even existing. Even if it had nothing credible in it.

“What’s up?” A voice same. Rob’s phone nearly shook out of his hand as he looked up.

Lyla, of all people. This was the first time they had directly spoken.

“Shit, sorry,” Rob stuttered out. “I got caught up in this article.”

“About the band?” She asked. Rob nodded, then: “There’s some crazy stuff out about you guys these days.”

“Yeah,” Rob agreed. “It’s starting to really get to me.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” she started, grabbing a beer from the counter, “a good bit of the people you’ll be playing at tonight hardly know English.”

Rob laughed softly, and saw Lyla extend a hand out. He shook it. “Good to meet you,” he said honestly, and she slipped away as soon as she came, without so much as time to get a read on her.

Aaron came up like clockwork behind her, having broken away from some conversation with Grant across the venue. He immediately pointed over to where Lyla had gone.

“Oh,” he said, nervous, “you met Lyla. How was that?”

Rob gave a questioning stare. This was unlike Aaron. “Fine, I guess. Just said hey.”

“She didn’t, you know, mention me or anything?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Rob through out in an exasperated tone. “Already?”

“I’m just curious,” Aaron said. He seemed embarrassed, more than anything.

“Enough people are fucking each other on this tour, trust me,” Rob said. He pointed to the few unfamiliar faces from Vicarious’ side. “Go try for one of their roadies or something.”

Aaron walked off without another word, leaving Rob to laugh at what had happened. He supposed it wasn’t surprising, given Lyla’s looks. Somebody would be going after that. If not Aaron, than Austin or Sam for sure.

Rob got himself up from the bar and walked over to another free person: Andy. Having never had a conversation with the man, he figured it would be now or never.

With each step closer, the more he began to want to turn back. Perhaps it was better if this didn’t happen. Perhaps if they didn’t talk—

“Hey,” Rob tossed out before he could turn back. He found Andy by a window looking down to the front of the venue. Out here, a crowd of about twenty people stood, waiting.

“Already people waiting for us,” Andy said, without looking to Rob. “I wonder who they want to see.”

Soon, a fan noticed the two band members, and a few looked up, waving and cheering. “I don’t know,” Rob said honestly. “Hopefully both of us.”

It was Andy to leave this time—turning on his heel and sliding over to the others, who were seemingly all getting to know each other.

Rob, Jane, Austin, Sam, Grant, Aaron, Lyla.

Trent, Andy, Matt, Zoe, David the roadie, and another guy and girl Rob couldn’t recognize.

Fourteen of them touring together.

This could be a mistake.

Descension [CLOSED]

DYRAEN

Nation: Dyraen

Race: Humans (95% population), (5% others)

Race description: As a vibrant community, those in the lower classes may live until 60; noble classes until 80 or longer.

Culture: Feudalism

Geography: Dyraen is a prosperous nation partially landlocked into the greater continent of the Wold. Along the shores of the Great Expanse, Dyraen holds it’s western border. The nation stretches across from the shorelines inward and slightly northward nearly six hundred hundred miles, and is roughly two-hundred and eighty miles thick. It’s southern border is aligned with the Wretched Peaks, and it’s lands populate the valley until the northern border, aligned partially with a dense wood (Yulerd Wood), and partially by empty space.

Approximate Population: 15 Million (Civilians and Military)

Capital: Dyraen’s capital is Highcove, an enclosed stronghold with surrounding villages, all located on the eastern shores of Dyraen.

The population here is made up of 100,000 Dyraenian soldiers (the rest located in strongholds throughout Dyraen’s shores and mainlands) and 500,000 civilians, for a total of 600,000 people. Of that total, about 70% live within the confines of the walls and the other 30% lie outside of it. Most work either in providing for city needs or in textiles, all from materials imported from farmlands in the Central Valley.

Highcove is known for it’s immense size and capable defense by sea; the city’s western border is a sheer 500 foot drop, and many rivers that flow from the Wretched Peaks make their way into the city, and out through the waterfalls.

There is a way to the ocean from Highcove, however.

The land Highcove was built upon was highly riddled with caves and caverns, and a deep underground maze runs beneath the city, known collectively as the Boroughs. These are used both by the Dyraenian Force as well as the homeless and local civilians for illegal trade.

Notable Cities:

From West to East:

Delta - Only other major city along the shore. A military outpost primarily, Delta functions as the main port along the Great Expanse, funneling imports and exports north to Highcove via a highly militarized road. Namesake is due to a river which runs past Highcove, alongside the militarized road, and pours out in the center-west of the city into the sea.

Yulden Rise - City north and east of Highcove, Yulden Rise derives it’s namesake from the 1,000 step rise which leads citizens from Central Valley to the city. The city itself is literally built into the base of the Wretched Mountains, and serves as the hub of the nations stone workers. It’s people are hard and are generally known to be self-sufficient.

Pare - City nearly in the center of the nation, in the heart of the Central Valley. Serving as a terminus for eastern cities to western cities, Pare is vibrant with passing travelers and known to be a place few wish to stop in for longer than a night on the town. Much magic is performed here, primarily for show.

Lyrran - The smallest of the notable cities, Lyrran lies south and east of Pare, and serves as the primary hall of the wood supply for Dyraen. Yulerd Forest extends north of the designated border here, breeching into territory controlled by Lyrran for harvesting. Freemen and raiders are a constant issue here, and Lyrran’s only real partner this far east is Irianson.

Irianson- Strongest city in eastern Dyraen, lying slightly north of Pare and far to the east, Irianson serves as the stronghold of Dyraen from all oppressors coming to the nation by land. This is the second largest city of Dyraen and holds the second largest Army - a local militia of 75,000 men. A large, vibrant lake to it’s west fuel it’s industry, Lake Maytel. The city holds a special contempt for westward folk—even though they’d defend them from intruders.

National history:

Dyraen was forged from the ashes of a great empire that ruled all of the lands nearby and surrounding the nation, built up from the ruins, intentionally secluded by the world. Kings ruled, lived and died for a thousand years of peace. But Dyraen grows anxious, and food grows scare in these lands. The shortage of food threatens to drive citizens to madness. The King of Dyraen faces choices that could mean solace for his people—or war. He’s fortified the Dyraenian Force in response to the unrest and near-civil war, but will he need them for use against other nations?

Major Exports: Stone and stonework, Timber, Textiles, Iron Weaponry

Major Imports: Livestock, Spices, Wines and Oils, Rare and Choice Articles

Army:

Of the lands of Dyraen: Local militias holding a combined force of 100,000 men total, and the Dyraenian Force (all branches of military) holding the strength of 200,000, for a total of 300,000 armed men across all of Dyraen.

By Major City (Dyraenian Force and Local Milita):

Highcove - 100,000

Irianson - 75,000

Delta - 50,000

Yulden Rise - 35,000

Pare - 15,000

Lyrran - 5,000

All other cities total - 20,000 across hundreds of minor towns in all of Dyraen

Navy: The strength of Dyraen lies in it’s fortified location—strongholds to the east and west, the Wretched Peaks in the north, and the Yulerd Forest to the south. As such, the navy is quite small by comparison. The entirety of the navy is based in Delta, with it’s fleet comprising of 20 ships; half of which sail purely for trade (non-militarized) and the other half patrolling the shores of Dyraen.

Magic: Most of Dyraen lies without the need of magic, with Pare being the only city with magic practiced openly for show and theatrics. A small sect of magic users (known as the Yulerd Mages) are located in Lyrran, and primarily protect Dyraen from supernatural threats within the forest, which threaten to come out from time to time. Sects of Elementals can be found in the Boroughs of Highcove, but otherwise, magic is scare, and in some places, highly doubted to even exist at all. Rumors spread of healers in the Dyraenian Force, however, centrally located in the stronghold of Delta. Even further rumors talk of a city by the forest, filled with magic and wonder. But stories in Dyraen are known for their exaggeration.

Descension [CLOSED]

Placeholder text.

In Bloom [HangYourSecrets x megatrash] [18+]

Days Later...

They were flying into Berlin.

Outside the windows of the dimmed airplane, the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean shone slightly as if a brilliant flare of light, as the first sun rays of the next day began to peer out over the horizon.

The past several days had been a blur. First, travel to St. Louis, then a final US show. Then, packing the instruments into crates and a drive immediately to the airport. Next, first flight into Atlanta. Several hours of layover in Atlanta, before a nonstop flight.

After the first several hours, all sense of time began to stop. The trip seemed to stretch far into the night, into the early hours of the morning, and once again back into darkness as America faded far behind them. There had been some interesting moments, and a few fans who had caught up to them and gotten their fair share of autographs, but it had mostly been a silent acceptance of the fatigue that had long since set in.

The fame and fortune of the life of the musician was certainly appealing, but the bitter reality of playing songs constantly, sleeping terribly, and the sheer amount of traveling was one of the least appealing parts of the job.

Still, Rob found some solace in it. There was something interesting to him about flights. Sure, it came with caveats, but overall, being able to travel hundreds of miles in an hour, far above the earth, never lost it’s novelty with him. He enjoyed takeoffs and landings, and the experience of it all. On the flight to Atlanta, he had been placed next to a fan, and was able to tell the kid a bit about the experience, the life, and some other things as well about life. It was always interesting meeting people that seemed so genuinely interested in not only the music, but themselves as well. He hoped that novelty would never be lost on him.

Beyond the unhealthy levels of caffeine surging throughout his system, Rob was able to enjoy looking out this window, in this moment, seeing the peacefulness of all of the expanse man seemed to leave well enough alone.

Moments before landing and Rob was still unsure of the future. Ahead, lay a more interesting tour. All the benefits of playing smaller, intimate shows with the added amenity of riding in a bus instead of driving the old van. The comfort was going to be much larger than it used to be.

But ever growing were the fears of what else would come. The strain of sharing a tour with Vicarious constantly. The new terms and conditions reached with Jane. The worrisome thoughts of her with another. The odd realization that he was almost expected to be with others as well. And the growing thoughts he had of acting on those feelings soon, rather than later.

Next to him, he felt Jane’s body pressed up against him in sleep. She seemed to much more at peace now, especially since what had been decided between the two of them. And if he was being honest, he was so much more at peace as well. It had cleared his head of the constant shame he had been carrying around, as well as the worry that he would use lose her.

Because Rob loved her. He wasn’t sure of when he began to love her, but he knew it was true.

Thoughts of Hayden came with that sort of thinking. The last time he had truly admitted his feelings, he had been scarred for several years. Telling Jane how he really felt, especially now with the casual agreement, felt like a recipe for disaster. He would tell her, of course. But at the right time. In the right place.

So, in a sense, everything had changed, but nothing truly had. Here they were on another tour, bracing for the experiences ahead, feeling sure of themselves but nervous for the road ahead, and having each other.

Full circle.

—

After landing and baggage claim, Harold led the exhausted band members (plus Lyla and Aaron, and their driver, a nice guy named Grant) over to the more industrial side of the airport, past the car lots and drop off, and over to a back corner filled with various trucks and busses. In front of one in particular, he stopped.

“Welcome home, guys,” he said politely.

In front of them was a truly massive black bus. Attached to the back end, a trailer hung, hopefully loaded with all the equipment they had shipped back in St. Louis. All along the sides, the storage doors were open, and airport employees were busy loading the last of their things inside.

“You’ll be in this thing for pretty much the whole tour,” Harold continued. “Well, not for the UK. The whole driving-on-the-wrong-side throws that off, so you’ll probably be back in a rental van for that. I’m still on logistics.”

Logistics. That’s what Harold was the master of. And it was why he was here now. Something about the need to talk to a venue owner in Berlin, or something. It seemed a waste of money, but so far, Harold was keeping all of them on what was basically carte blanche, so Rob didn’t worry so much about it. He never was good with money.

“I’m off to my meetings,” Harold said, turning as quick as he could. “I’ll see you in Britain for the end of the tour.”

And with that, just as quick as Harold had entered their lives in physical form, so he left.

Rob didn’t hesitate to step forward, going into the bus immediately. And in there, it was amazing.

A thick carpet lined the floors, and wood panels made up the walls and ceiling. Past the driver’s section, a nice living area sat with black leather couches and a full granite kitchenette just past it. A television hung from one of the walls, and windows made up a good chunk of the rest. Rob continued inside.

Past a very nice bathroom were the first round of bunks; two on each side, with a curtain to seal themselves off from the outside world. Each looked nice enough.

Moving farther back, four more bunks were in here, past a few closet spaces and another curtain. These seemed to be a bit bigger than the others, and Rob didn’t hesitate to slip his travel bag onto the one on the bottom-left; a clear indication that this one was his.

Rob quickly watched as Sam and Austin slipped in and argued immediately over who would get what, so he eased past and made his way to the front, opening the fridge.

To his surprise, it was stocked full of booze. He pulled out a decent looking ale and opened it, sitting down on the couch and thinking to himself for a moment.

This may not be so bad, and he had only just looked around—he was sure this bus held many more surprises for him.

Entering next was Grant, who offered Rob a nice smile and pulled a water from the fridge, before sitting next to him.

“Enjoy this moment,” Grant said, his accent coming through. Best to hire a European for the European Tour, Harold had argued. “It’ll be, as you would say, the calm before the storm”

“I’m sure,” Rob said. “You tour with bands a lot?”

“Many American bands,” Grant said simply. “Some small-time, some big. Some nice, some…not so nice. People are different.”

“Shit,” Rob breathed out. “That’s true.”

“We will drive to the venue in a moment,” Grant said, suddenly rising and moving to one of the bunks closest to the front of the bus. “Then, I sleep.”

Rob found this rather odd. Harold had gone to great lengths to explain that the best way to fight the jet lag was going to be staying up until night had fallen. And, seeing as how it was still morning, there was a lot more day to be had.

“Why then?” he asked.

Grant gave a soft smile. “While you work, I sleep. While you sleep, I work.” He set his drink down in his bunk, and slipped to the very front, to assumedly set up his own space for his work. He seemed to be a man of few words, which was not surprising. He probably had been doing this for a very long time.

Rob slipped out of the bus, in an effort to see where Jane had gone to, when he saw a familiar figure across the parking lot. Taking a few steps forward, he could tell who it was:

Zoe.

He walked across the lot, approaching a white bus that seemed to be Vicarious’ new traveling vehicle. The members of the band meandered about without noticing Rob’s approach at first; looking just as dead as he felt.

Andy was the first to notice Rob’s approach, and gave a silent stare to him before slipping into his bus was a bag. Rob shrugged off the feeling it gave him and approached Zoe—covered in a hat and sunglasses, and wearing black from a sleeveless graphic tee down to her boots. She was clearly unhappy, but offered a smile when she noticed Rob. She walked up quietly and stopped in place.

“Hey stranger,” she said. Fancy seeing you here.”

Rob laughed, and the two embraced for a moment.

“Glad to see you again,” Rob admitted, pulling away. “I know shit got weird, but—“

Rob felt a finger press against his lips softly. “Leave it in America, dude. We’re in Europe now. Catch you at the venue?”

Rob looked behind him to see the remaining members of Vicarious had vanished into the bus. He leaned in for a moment. “Me?” he asked.

Zoe nodded. “And Jane. Trent’s a bit frustrated half our band wants to fuck half our supporting band. And Andy just straight up doesn’t like you very much.”

Rob blushed slightly. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“What other way is there to put it?” Zoe asked, before slipping away, getting into the bus. “See you later, Jack.”

Rob watched as the door closed, and laughed a bit to himself. "And we're not your supporting band!" He shouted after her.

It was the first time he didn’t mind being called Jack.

--

Turning back to the bus, Rob grabbed some of the other things he would need and loaded them by his bunk. As he did so, he heard a conversation going on between Sam and Austin on the other side of the curtain:

“It was too fucking weird, dude.”

“What?”

“Like, I’m just standing here naked, and all of a sudden Jane comes in—“

“Bullshit.”

“Why else would I tell you that?”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did she see your dick or not?”

”Guys?” Rob asked, slipping around the curtain and butting right into their conversation. The two both seemed to jump a foot into the air, but Rob ignored it: “Pick your bunks yet?”

“Y-yeah,” Austin stuttered.

“Cool,” Rob said, turning back away. Just wondering.” As he left, Sam spoke up.

“Hey, Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear any of that?”

Rob rolled his eyes. “At this point, Sam,” Rob explained, “I really couldn’t give a fuck.”

Rob slipped back over to the couch and closed his eyes.

He knew he needed to stay awake until after the show tonight, but Jesus was it going to hurt.

He briefly thought of getting up to find Jane, but couldn’t find the energy for it. Still, he really wanted to find her.

Even with all the shit around them, the one thing Rob wanted in this moment was Jane by his side, feeling her warmth and hearing her voice. Talking about anything in the world. Anything, to distract him from this terrible growing anxiety he was feeling.