Bad Night to be Alone

[Evangeline Carter]

ooc: Just a band-concert role play. It's an outdoor concert. Cold night under the stars. I've got the first band taken care of, but if anyone wants to ad themselves to the lineup, feel welcome. It's not a strictly-human role play, but I've seen things get /really/ over dramatic when people employ characters with powers, so if we could keep the posts (for the time being) only lightly seasoned with super-human content, it would probably benefit the whole story. If the post is all full of their brooding thoughts on the fall of their entire race of lizard-people, than it's a little over the top.

bic:

It was a bad night to be alone. Evangeline's nose had gone cold, nearly numb, and her toes had long ago lost feeling. On top of her car, with the icy metal of the roof beneath her butt and her chapped lips pinched between her teeth, she was acutely aware of the lack of an arm around her shoulder.

Brake-ups sucked.

The clearing was filled with other cars – all cold, probably – with other bodies – mostly in couple—form – in various arrangements. At the far-end of the clearing, the stage was set for a beastly show. It was a strong line-up; a couple of alt-metal bands, a couple hardcore, some death-metal. With enough double-bass and distortion and a healthy turn in the circle-pit, she might forget she was doing this sans-boyfriend.

Sure, there were plenty of boys to pull her out of the mud if she face-planted during the mosh – you grow up in a tomboy in a po-dunk town like Raggetta county, and you end up with a lot of guy-friends. It wasn't the same as having someone that brushed the dirt out of your hair and kiss your forehead and --

No.

Not going to think about it.

She raised her head as the grumble of a guitar's sound-check vibrated through the valley. Chaos Crawling was first on the set list. They were an Alt-Metal group. Local-grown, just back from tour. She had a few of their songs burned onto a CD.

They were visible beneath the stage-lights, the two guitarists puffing warmth into their fingers, the bassist scrowling into some heated beverage, mid-conversation with the vocalist as the drummer looks on, stone-faced. They're a rag-tag assembly of scars and tattoos, all of them. Evangeline didn't know their names the way she'd memorized some bands, but she knew each of their faces. The concert would start any minute now.