The Last Robotica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thefolksbetween) wrote2010-08-31 12:59 am
thefolksbetween) wrote2010-08-31 12:59 am
#39 - Far Fetched: Jacko Adams
Who: Jack Odin Adams of Jack10 (NPC)
What: #39 – Far Fetched
When: Aug 30th
Where: Siren’s Port -![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sirensport
Rating: PG
Note: Randomness. Nothing too note worthy. Old, old characters in a random moment. Bryan doesn’t belong to me but to the lovely aaron. As normal... no edits were done, because I’m lazy and would never post if I edited. SO... fair warning, it’s really broken. Oops.
~*~
Seated in the rafters just above the stage, he stared off at the empty auditorium that could seat thousands. Rows and rows of uncomfortable plastic and worn cloth folding chairs along rows and rows of steps making a large bowl where the stage was set. Not only from the front and side but people crowded in behind as well. Jack had always hated the set up, having to play to fans before him as well as behind. It forced him to move around more on stage. It forced the rest of the band to be placed in weird places that just didn’t flow well for him.
It was the show of it all though. That far fetched idea of just playing the music never seemed to go well for the business though. No, sparks and fires and magic swirls of lords knows what had to be dashing about on stage with him. Pyrotechnics and fake rain, lights lasers or just about anything the crew could think of.
He’d be the first to admit the gothic and morbid macabre circus theme they had one show was rather interesting, as it took a lot of the lime light off him but other then that? Other then that he missed the coffee shop or the club gigs. The small groups while Jack10 was upcoming and new. Being able to just sit on a tall stool with his baby in his hands, strumming the proper chords and knowing damn well that the audience will notice if you hit the wrong chord or sang the wrong note. Knowing that they were hearing his voice.
That was something that bothered him a lot too. The knowledge that if he stopped singing and lipped the words that the world would still rock on as if he had never stopped. In his mind he saw it, the band playing with all their heart the perfect lyrics and notes that was his and Bryan’s work, Gannon’s arms flying over the drums, Dace laying out a killer base line, Fizgig keeping it all moving with the guitar and June doing her thing on the keys when needed. He could see them all so clearly in his head playing their all, following him with each show.
He could also see himself standing in the center of the stage, microphone at his side, mouth closed, spinning around and watching it all, only to hear the audience still cheering, still screaming, rocking to the tune that lacked his voice.
Was he really necessary to the band if no one even bothered to hear his voice anymore?
This wasn’t what he had wanted all those years ago.
Shaking his black and blue head back and forth, almost too vigorously, he brought himself out of those thoughts. He hated this stage, but dwelling on it didn’t help any.
Swinging a heavy booted leg back and forth he let it hang, 100 feet or more off the ground. Leaning back on an elbow he ignored the stage he hated so much and stared up at the ceiling. The Underground Mall was vast, deep and safe. The ceiling was simple carved rock, secured and in some places running with power lines. No matter where you looked above you there was ground though. No stars and no sky. The open auditorium looked up to a ceiling no matter what you saw.
His hand raised a bottle to his lips, a blue Hawaiian wine cooler. Taking a long drag from it he swallowed, relaxing, just staring at the rocks above. They reminded him of the outlands of Nam’il’las.
With that very simple though, the rafters shook, the slight sway in them being shook hard, and a shriek was heard in a muffled tone. The higher pitched whiney ton of ‘Walla was heard from a short distance away, and he could feel the vibrations of the creatures shaking through the metal rafters he was settled on. Unmoving, Jacko just watched the ceiling, sipping his drink and now... smiled.
“J-J-Jack! J-jack you k-know I hate it when you do that! C-Couldn’t we be on the ground! I’ve never liked heights!” The rather large and long purple furred creature called from an unknown mouth source, its tiny black hands grasping for the railing guards, clinging on for dear life. The creature was so large that its hind legs barely fit on the walk way and his long thick tail fell off the edge, handing helplessly.
After another sip, the lead singer tilted his head to look over at his old Imaginary friend, a rare smile pulling at his lips. “A big warrior like you still crying about heights?”
“A-a big r-rock star like you, s-still crying about stardom?” The creature shot back, gray furred nose poking up a bit, prideful as his black eyes watched his friend so carefully.
“Touché..” Jacko said, giving him a pointed finger while holding a half empty bottle in his hand. “You’ll be safe. I won’t let you fall. I just wanted the company.”
“H-How many of those bottles have you had up here? It’s a bit stupid to have those nasty blue waters while so h-high up...” ‘Walla squeaked, its 7 foot tall form looming over the singer and the six pack of half finished wine coolers. “I would think you would... w-would know better.”
“It’s nothing.” He said, finishing this last bottle in one swig and taking a moment to be an asshole, drew back and chucked the empty bottle off the rafters, past the stage and into the front pits. There was a crash and shattering sound that almost felt satisfying. No one was around to see it anyhow, and the last show hadn’t even been cleaned up after yet.
He noticed the creature tensed again at the crash, holding on to the railing tighter now. Sighing, he dropped his other leg over the edge and swung it as well, sitting up. Hands behind him on the cat walk he leaned back into his shoulder blades and looked up to the rock sky once again.
“It’s a bit far fetched, to think that music would be the reason people loved bands. Loved... you know, music. To feel something through the lyrics or beat and tone. Why would anyone want to feel something?”
The purple creature tilted his head, obviously not understanding. “But isn’t that why you sing? Why you write? To feel something deeper?” Sarcasm was lost on Snotwalla completely.
“Its no more far fetched them my believing in a large purple creature from another land, right?” He heard the whine from his old friend and sighed, pushing himself up to the walk way and moved over to him. Reaching ah and out to touch his friends large rounded nose he smiled. “Right... I play to feel something. People just... seem to forget the music for the stardom now is all.”
His smile fell “I hate it...”
Snotwalla nudged his nose up into the singers hand, eyes showing how sad he felt. “You’ll find a way to get the music back. You always do.”
For some reason the creatures words were warming, making Jacko smile again, reach up and ruffle the purple mess of hair then wink. “Lets go hunting this weekend, hmm?”
“You’re c-changing the subject.”
“No, not really. I get what you mean. I was just thinking... I haven’t been in the grass lands in some time. Lets gather up some game and take it back to the village.” There was a pause, his mind going back to mid night parties under a crystal clear sky, bon fires in the little village in the purple plains. A fresh catch cooked into a village sized stew. A log, a cool night and his guitar. “Like the old days...”
“You’ll bring Athena?” The creature said, perking up some at this.
“I wouldn’t bring any other guitar, ever.” The dark haired singer said, feeling a little prideful. He was surprised at how much better he felt just at this thought. “Get things ready. I’ll pop in tomorrow. Promise.” He pet the creatures head again and in a blink he was gone, leaving Jacko alone on the rafters once more.
Humming a old song to himself he started to balance, on one foot, hands out, closing his eyes and thinking. The idea of people loving the music just for the music. The idea of feeling something through lyrics wasn’t so far fetched, was it? No more far fetched then being able to tell his loved ones that he’d be back in a day or so. That he was headed off to enjoy music again. To find his spark once more. To figure out how to bring that spark back to the stage and remove the flash in the show.
There had to be a way.
“Jacko?”
The voice came from below, a distant and not strong sounding call, be it was clear the voice knew where he was.
Pausing he opened his eyes, leaning over the railing to look down to the boy below.
Bryan stood on the stage, the only time Jack could get him on the stage really. Seeing the figure so small below him, looking up, a hand fixing the goggles on his forehead. Bryan always managed to make him smile now as well, and at the moment he felt more able to smile.
He had a plan.
He needed Bryan to help in that plan.
“Up here! Hey... how do you feel about working on something real fast. Maybe a short trip somewhere?” He had never taken anyone with him into his mind, into his world, and wondered if he could. If it was possible.
The idea was no more far fetched then anything else, right?
What: #39 – Far Fetched
When: Aug 30th
Where: Siren’s Port -
sirensportRating: PG
Note: Randomness. Nothing too note worthy. Old, old characters in a random moment. Bryan doesn’t belong to me but to the lovely aaron. As normal... no edits were done, because I’m lazy and would never post if I edited. SO... fair warning, it’s really broken. Oops.
Seated in the rafters just above the stage, he stared off at the empty auditorium that could seat thousands. Rows and rows of uncomfortable plastic and worn cloth folding chairs along rows and rows of steps making a large bowl where the stage was set. Not only from the front and side but people crowded in behind as well. Jack had always hated the set up, having to play to fans before him as well as behind. It forced him to move around more on stage. It forced the rest of the band to be placed in weird places that just didn’t flow well for him.
It was the show of it all though. That far fetched idea of just playing the music never seemed to go well for the business though. No, sparks and fires and magic swirls of lords knows what had to be dashing about on stage with him. Pyrotechnics and fake rain, lights lasers or just about anything the crew could think of.
He’d be the first to admit the gothic and morbid macabre circus theme they had one show was rather interesting, as it took a lot of the lime light off him but other then that? Other then that he missed the coffee shop or the club gigs. The small groups while Jack10 was upcoming and new. Being able to just sit on a tall stool with his baby in his hands, strumming the proper chords and knowing damn well that the audience will notice if you hit the wrong chord or sang the wrong note. Knowing that they were hearing his voice.
That was something that bothered him a lot too. The knowledge that if he stopped singing and lipped the words that the world would still rock on as if he had never stopped. In his mind he saw it, the band playing with all their heart the perfect lyrics and notes that was his and Bryan’s work, Gannon’s arms flying over the drums, Dace laying out a killer base line, Fizgig keeping it all moving with the guitar and June doing her thing on the keys when needed. He could see them all so clearly in his head playing their all, following him with each show.
He could also see himself standing in the center of the stage, microphone at his side, mouth closed, spinning around and watching it all, only to hear the audience still cheering, still screaming, rocking to the tune that lacked his voice.
Was he really necessary to the band if no one even bothered to hear his voice anymore?
This wasn’t what he had wanted all those years ago.
Shaking his black and blue head back and forth, almost too vigorously, he brought himself out of those thoughts. He hated this stage, but dwelling on it didn’t help any.
Swinging a heavy booted leg back and forth he let it hang, 100 feet or more off the ground. Leaning back on an elbow he ignored the stage he hated so much and stared up at the ceiling. The Underground Mall was vast, deep and safe. The ceiling was simple carved rock, secured and in some places running with power lines. No matter where you looked above you there was ground though. No stars and no sky. The open auditorium looked up to a ceiling no matter what you saw.
His hand raised a bottle to his lips, a blue Hawaiian wine cooler. Taking a long drag from it he swallowed, relaxing, just staring at the rocks above. They reminded him of the outlands of Nam’il’las.
With that very simple though, the rafters shook, the slight sway in them being shook hard, and a shriek was heard in a muffled tone. The higher pitched whiney ton of ‘Walla was heard from a short distance away, and he could feel the vibrations of the creatures shaking through the metal rafters he was settled on. Unmoving, Jacko just watched the ceiling, sipping his drink and now... smiled.
“J-J-Jack! J-jack you k-know I hate it when you do that! C-Couldn’t we be on the ground! I’ve never liked heights!” The rather large and long purple furred creature called from an unknown mouth source, its tiny black hands grasping for the railing guards, clinging on for dear life. The creature was so large that its hind legs barely fit on the walk way and his long thick tail fell off the edge, handing helplessly.
After another sip, the lead singer tilted his head to look over at his old Imaginary friend, a rare smile pulling at his lips. “A big warrior like you still crying about heights?”
“A-a big r-rock star like you, s-still crying about stardom?” The creature shot back, gray furred nose poking up a bit, prideful as his black eyes watched his friend so carefully.
“Touché..” Jacko said, giving him a pointed finger while holding a half empty bottle in his hand. “You’ll be safe. I won’t let you fall. I just wanted the company.”
“H-How many of those bottles have you had up here? It’s a bit stupid to have those nasty blue waters while so h-high up...” ‘Walla squeaked, its 7 foot tall form looming over the singer and the six pack of half finished wine coolers. “I would think you would... w-would know better.”
“It’s nothing.” He said, finishing this last bottle in one swig and taking a moment to be an asshole, drew back and chucked the empty bottle off the rafters, past the stage and into the front pits. There was a crash and shattering sound that almost felt satisfying. No one was around to see it anyhow, and the last show hadn’t even been cleaned up after yet.
He noticed the creature tensed again at the crash, holding on to the railing tighter now. Sighing, he dropped his other leg over the edge and swung it as well, sitting up. Hands behind him on the cat walk he leaned back into his shoulder blades and looked up to the rock sky once again.
“It’s a bit far fetched, to think that music would be the reason people loved bands. Loved... you know, music. To feel something through the lyrics or beat and tone. Why would anyone want to feel something?”
The purple creature tilted his head, obviously not understanding. “But isn’t that why you sing? Why you write? To feel something deeper?” Sarcasm was lost on Snotwalla completely.
“Its no more far fetched them my believing in a large purple creature from another land, right?” He heard the whine from his old friend and sighed, pushing himself up to the walk way and moved over to him. Reaching ah and out to touch his friends large rounded nose he smiled. “Right... I play to feel something. People just... seem to forget the music for the stardom now is all.”
His smile fell “I hate it...”
Snotwalla nudged his nose up into the singers hand, eyes showing how sad he felt. “You’ll find a way to get the music back. You always do.”
For some reason the creatures words were warming, making Jacko smile again, reach up and ruffle the purple mess of hair then wink. “Lets go hunting this weekend, hmm?”
“You’re c-changing the subject.”
“No, not really. I get what you mean. I was just thinking... I haven’t been in the grass lands in some time. Lets gather up some game and take it back to the village.” There was a pause, his mind going back to mid night parties under a crystal clear sky, bon fires in the little village in the purple plains. A fresh catch cooked into a village sized stew. A log, a cool night and his guitar. “Like the old days...”
“You’ll bring Athena?” The creature said, perking up some at this.
“I wouldn’t bring any other guitar, ever.” The dark haired singer said, feeling a little prideful. He was surprised at how much better he felt just at this thought. “Get things ready. I’ll pop in tomorrow. Promise.” He pet the creatures head again and in a blink he was gone, leaving Jacko alone on the rafters once more.
Humming a old song to himself he started to balance, on one foot, hands out, closing his eyes and thinking. The idea of people loving the music just for the music. The idea of feeling something through lyrics wasn’t so far fetched, was it? No more far fetched then being able to tell his loved ones that he’d be back in a day or so. That he was headed off to enjoy music again. To find his spark once more. To figure out how to bring that spark back to the stage and remove the flash in the show.
There had to be a way.
“Jacko?”
The voice came from below, a distant and not strong sounding call, be it was clear the voice knew where he was.
Pausing he opened his eyes, leaning over the railing to look down to the boy below.
Bryan stood on the stage, the only time Jack could get him on the stage really. Seeing the figure so small below him, looking up, a hand fixing the goggles on his forehead. Bryan always managed to make him smile now as well, and at the moment he felt more able to smile.
He had a plan.
He needed Bryan to help in that plan.
“Up here! Hey... how do you feel about working on something real fast. Maybe a short trip somewhere?” He had never taken anyone with him into his mind, into his world, and wondered if he could. If it was possible.
The idea was no more far fetched then anything else, right?