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It was early afternoon when the door to the abandoned record shop opened, allowing a young man with short, messy brown hair to step inside. One hand went right to the light switch, flipping it up and down a few times before he gave it up with a small, resigned sigh. So the power was out in this part of the town again. Well, the dim daylight which made it through the dusty window panes would hopefully be enough to find what he needed - it would still be a strain on his eyes though, and probably give him a headache. It couldn't be helped though, he needed some records for tomorrow's broadcast.

Humming slightly to himself the young man looked around until he located the Classic Music section. It wasn't really his type of music, but there had been a few requests from his audience and he'd do anything to keep them happy. Give them some tiny bit of hope and comfort in this grim world. Some Vivaldi might be nice..

He started to flip through the records, at first too lost in thought to notice the obvious gaps, instead wondering how the would could have changed so drastically in mere two years. It was as if everything was breaking apart, crumbling..

No Vivaldi.

He frowned, and - more focused now - went through the records again. He had borrowed these records before, from here, he was sure of it. But now they were gone.

The young man sighed and buried his face in his hands for a moment. Plunderers were everywhere, he was painfully aware of this fact ever since a good part of his own equipment had been stolen some months ago - but he really had hoped the only thing of interest for them in this shop would be the cash register.

However, it would not be too long until there was a voice - the kind of deep, pure, and beautiful that usually had been altered in some way. For a moment, the young man might have thought that somehow, a record was playing, but... the voice was still far away. And, steadily, was growing closer.

___________
Echoes of ages gone whispers in my ear

It sounded almost like a siren's lure, only there was no sense that the female was putting any thoughts to being heard or attracting others. It simply was that way. A natural beauty, pure like crystal.

___________
The grand tales of lifes past

The voice grew closer and closer - the singer was definitively walking by, but what would anyone be doing around those parts ?

___________
Of times long since faded from the memory of all...

"...That was a bit wonky, wasn't it ?" The handle of the door turned, revealing a woman - average height and weight, wearing a hoodie and jeans (clothes borrowed from her host - again, better to blend in.) but a few things betrayed she was not exactly what she tried to look like she was - odd blue patches on her hands, pointed ears, strings trailing to the ground from her arms and waist, and long, silky hairs, a black with blue tones in it, too odd to be natural... What what to say of the man that followed her ? Alto could never come close to blending in... ever.

When the odd pair figured out they where not alone in the old shop, they froze, unsure what to do.

They were not the only ones who stood frozen on the spot, the young man had been too mesmerized by the song until now to even think about going into hiding as he'd usually done. B'sides, someone who sang that beautifully hardly could be a dangerous person, could she now? And she was drop-dead gorgeous too..

"Erh.." He said, and then - remembering his manners - abruptly stuck out his right hand. With a voice like that she had to be a professional, perhaps she was acquainted to the shop owner in some way? "Hi. I'm Charles. Anselm. But just call me Charles. That song just now was beautiful."

He looked to be in his early twenties, a little pale - but who wasn't when the skies had been darkened for so long? His short hair was of a light brown - light enough that it might be bleached to blond in a long hot summer - and messily sticking out into all possible directions. The clothes he bore were simple, practical. Sturdy boots, a mechanic's overall with plenty of pockets and loops to hold tools and such, a thick sweater which had definitely seen better times, and a leather flight jacket. The pilot goggles up in his hair were a little peculiar - he needed them for driving, but after a while had come to wear them simply all the time.

"Pleased," Charles said, gripping her hand firmly to shake it. He didn't think those names were strange at all - those two looked like they might be performers, so he simply figured those were stage names, just as Echo had guessed.

"Me? I just wanted to borrow a few records, for a broadcast," he said tentatively, finally remembering to let go of the lady's hand. "My own collection isn't all that extensive, so I need to go to this shop or another occasionally for specific stuff. But I always bring it back, honestly." The look on his face grew concerned, he still didn't know if she was related to the shop owner in any way.

"I, uh, yes.. I put together some equipment I found.. It's not much really, just a silly idea I had a while ago and sort of got stuck with." He blushed and embarrassedly scratched the back of his head. "Someone requested I play something classic, so I thought some Vivaldi might be nice, the Four Seasons or something."

He extended his hand to Alto as well. "Hi, pleased to meet you too. You a band member or something? I mean, it's pretty obvious that she is doing the vocals."

Ah, so she had been the one to..? Oh. "It's no bother, really, I'll just pick something else. Is there anything you'd recommend? You see, classic music isn't really my thing.." He gave off a short, embarrassed but pleasant laugh.

He shook the other's hand, not seeming bothered by the fact that he was mute. "Flute?" Now that was interesting. "So, you people do classic music? Or folk? Sorry, if I'm babbling, but it's rare to find someone you can simply talk to these days." He sighed. The last two times he'd attempted to start a conversation with someone he'd ended up being beaten and robbed.

"With a voice like yours.. I'm sure you can do it. You definitely made me smile when I heard you sing just now." He grinned and put the albums aside which had been suggested, including the Chopin one. He'd have to listen through it all later to decide which pieces to use. Hm, perhaps use a Nocturne to conclude the evening broadcast - wouldn't that be nice?

"You see, I set up my radio station for pretty much the same reason. The official government broadcasts - that's pretty much all there still is - they leave a bad aftertaste, it's kinda hard to explain. All the bad news, yet you just know they are still telling you only half the truth. And no more music either." He made a face. "So I thought I'd just try and do something.. more personal, to connect people, to let them know there's still someone out there who cares. I thought it was a silly idea at first, but.. It was pretty well received, so I just kept going." He blushed. "I'm sorry, I got rambling."

"So, what are you trying to do? Hold a concert or something?"

"Oh, I'd love to help you out with that! Given, the transmitter isn't very powerful so I doubt anyone beyond the city reaches can pick up my broadcasts, but still - it's better than nothing, ne?" He beamed at the songstress enthusiastically.

"Definitivly !" She said with a smile, resisting the urge to bounce happily like a teenager. This was looking very well, very well indeed !

Alto, on his part, peered up for the record he had been reading the tracklist of. Of course, the aoide saw a wide open window of opportunity of another kind - but it was doubtful she would act on her own, so he may have to tempt fate a little bit. It was a wild shot but...

My lady is a bit shy, you see. She weaved the arts, ages ago. From this angle, Echo could not read what he had written on the paper, but Charles could. She inspired songstresses, musicians and orchestras of ages past... We are not what we seem to be at the first glance.

Charles frowned, reading the text twice. Then he fiddled with his goggles, and when he was done with that, he read it again.

"I.. I'm not sure I understand," he said finally. It was mostly the 'ages past' bit which puzzled him - she looked to be about his own age, maybe with a year or two of difference between them. "You mean, like a muse?"

"You are inviting me? To your place? Hell, do I want to know now!" He grinned and was suddenly very quick at packing up his things, yet he still displayed extraordinary care as he slipped the records they had picked into the messenger bag - they weren't his after all. "Even if it's something unbelievable, it'll likely still be a good story and I'm always interested in hearing those." He nodded, practically brimming with enthusiasm. After all, a girl had just asked him to come to her place~! "And tea is just fine."

"Really? Then we don't live all that far away from each other," Charles said, hurrying after the strange pair. He seriously hoped though that she wouldn't ask to visit him. While it would fill him with geeky glee to show off his broadcast station, the attic he'd made his home wasn't really suited to host guests. Too dark, too cold, too.. messy. It resembled more a thieves' den than anyone's living space.

Charles followed closely after the songstress and her mute companion, making sure to memorize the landmarks on their way. He needn't have to, as it turned out she lived really close by - at least from the perspective of someone who had worked as a delivery boy for plenty of takeout restaurants.

The house he was guided to indeed stood out in its good shape, though the young man wouldn't have paid it much thought had he coincidentally passed by. As he entered, though, a cold shiver ran down his spine and he had the strangest feeling of someone - or rather something - being behind him, reaching out for him.. Startled, he turned to look uneasily back over his shoulder, but there was nothing. The next moment the eerie sensation was gone and he was able to relax. Maybe it had been the wind..

Then he was assaulted by the purring crowd of Echo's curious feline room mates and that strange chill was all but forgotten. "Green tea is quite alright, I'm not picky," he said, picking one of the cats up. He glanced up just in time to see the lady's smile, the sight causing a dozen butterflies to dance in his stomach. A good thing she only had asked him to take a seat, because in that very moment he would have done everything for her. She was gorgeous.

"Uhm. Do you mean here in the kitchen? Or..?" Charles looked a little uncertain, absently stroking the kitten he had picked up. She'd probably meant the living room, but he felt uneasy to just go and nose around in a stranger's apartment.

"I guess you really must like cats," Charles muttered as he followed her into the living room, paying extra care on where he set his feet. That his host managed to neither trip nor stumble over the persistent felines in her way even though her sight was obscured by the tray seemed close to a miracle for him.

He sat down on the couch, missing one of the cats by a hair's breadth without even noticing it because he'd mistaken it for one of the many pillows. After all, how was he supposed to know with such unusual fur colors?

"Well," he said after having taken a curious glance around the room, "it's really nice. Just missing a little greenery."

"It's hard to keep them alive now," Charles admitted with a small nod. "I noticed. Something in the water maybe, or the lack of sunlight." That was what was truly missing in these rooms, he noticed. Sunlight. This house somehow reminded him of the one his parents had rented for vacation years ago, the air heavy with the salty moisture of the nearby sea, flooded with the warm light of the summer sun, the distant cries of the seagulls..

The soft clink of porcelain on glass as Echo set down the cup in front of him abruptly snapped him back into here and now, just in time to take notice of another name. Seemed like she was living in a nice little community of sorts, and he couldn't help but wonder what kind of instrument this 'Ishum' might play. He was just about to ask, but then Echo spoke once more and the youth stilled, doing nothing but listen and trying to wrap his mind around the unbelievable things she told him.

"I.. don't know," he finally said, a little while after she had ended, his tea remaining still untouched. "I never really believed.. Well, I did, as a kid, but back then I also still believed in Santa and the Easter Bunny." He grinned, hoping she'd take it as a joke and not as an insult. But that was all gods were to him - fairy tale beings, not something real.

"But.. I've talked to a few people from the Cosmodrome when I put together the equipment for the station. Some of the starships still go up and about, so I know a little of what's going on beyond.. there." He pointed up to indicate it was the bruised and covered sky he was talking about. "Stars collapsing turning novae for no apparent reason, wars, plagues and disasters everywhere, not just here - those are the things they don't tell you on the official broadcasts. They are trying to make it look like it's an isolated, local incident, happening on this world - or even this continent - alone."

"I heard about Koiso. Official news said one of the upriver dams broke, but that there was enough of a forewarning to get everyone evacuated in time and rumors of the city being completely destroyed were greatly exaggerated." He gave of a short, bitter laugh which seemed completely out of place with the carefree and cheerful attitude he had displayed until now. "I've heard different stories from the survivors who made it to this town.."

Gods, eh?

That sparkle in her sapphire blue eyes, the sincerity in her voice.. It was clear that she herself believed what she was telling him, and part of him wanted to believe her. He'd always been a little envious of those who were able to draw strength from their faith, especially in times like these.. To be able to conveniently blame all the bad things on this god or that, to believe there was reason to all these disasters, that it was a test of sorts.. To be unafraid of death because it was not the end..

"'Voice of the Countless'.. That has a nice ring to it," Charles finally said, after having mulled over what he'd heard. "Like - assuming for a second that I believe you - you are supposed to be the people's voice. Usually I'd expect it to be the other way around, having them sing praise to you, you know?" But it seemed to fit with her, like that concert she'd mentioned.. Goddess or no goddess, it was obvious she wanted to do something to help making everyone's lives a little less miserable. Plus, he kinda liked her view of the gods as she represented it - they weren't all-powerful, it seemed, and at the very least they were attempting to clean up the mess one of them had brought about.

"Maybe lets begin at the beginning - you said you were 'freshly reborn', yet I'm obviously looking at a fully grown woman. And a gorgeous one at that." He blushed a little. Given, growth acceleration was probably no challenge for godly powers he assumed, but he had to start somewhere with his questions.

"So.." Charles hesitated and quirked a brow. This all sounded rather strange and unbelievable. Unreal, like a dream. "Basically we are talking 'parasites' here?" But 'parasites' inspired mental images of Facehuggers and Aliens messily bursting from one's chest. Ew. So, perhaps ghosts rather? Or something akin to demons possessing a soul? Charles reached up to scratch the back of his head. He had watched way too many movies, definitely. And Echo.. he could neither imagine her to be a vicious parasite, nor a ghost, or a demon, or just anything along that line.

Well, that last bit he certainly was believing. No matter how hard he tried, it was impossible for him to imagine she would deliberately hurt or even kill someone. She was a good person, no matter how strange her story.

"Well - still assuming I believe what you're telling me - now that you have been reborn.. What is it you want to do? Apart from fixing the current mess which wouldn't have happened in the first place if it hadn't been for one of you - if I got this right." He looked at her quizzically. "I've never seen gods as little more than a myth - something to hold on to for some, something to blame all the bad things happening on for others. But overall I think we.. normal people.. are doing just fine without divine guidance or some such, you know?"

He shook his head slightly. "But - that strange, metaphysical stuff aside - I think that idea you're working on, that concert, is a good one. I'd like to help with that, if I can."

It would take time for him to lower his protective shield of skepticism, it seemed, if he would do so at all. The flame of belief was not something which could be kindled in moments, and it looked very much like Echo might have to work to be accepted for what she was.

"I'll take it as a proof of your trust then," Charles said, winking. Inwardly he was just glad that the conversation now seemed to steer safely away from the topic of religion. "And thank you." He blushed a little.

"So, uhm, do you actually own a radio?" Stupid question probably.

For a few seconds filled with awkward silence Charles just stared at the goddess, managing just barely to keep his jaw from dropping. She couldn't be serious now, could she? But her embarrassed blush convinced him that she really was quite clueless.

"No, this is an mp3 player, I think." He picked the small gadget from her hand, turning it around and examining its sleek shape thoughtfully. "Though it doesn't look like any I've ever seen before. Wouldn't you know such things, erh, through your 'host'?" He handed the device back to her and scratched the back of his head, feeling rather uneasy that they'd returned to the topic of 'divine possession' so quickly.

Charles' eyes brightened when she brought in the second device, and he grinned. "Yep, that's a radio alright. I don't think it's broken, it's just that barely anyone is 'on air' anymore so you mostly get static if you skim the stations.. Or the batteries might be discharged," it occurred to him a bit belatedly. He turned the device around, examining the battery compartment. They looked to be alright still, at the very least they hadn't leaked yet.

"So.. this is where you switch it on and off.. volume's here.. and this little wheel is the most important part, it lets you tune in to the stations. So, lets see.." He ran his thumb over the knob he'd indicated, selecting the one station he knew was still broadcasting for sure - government based, of course.

____... weather

________... the unexplained ... enomenon ...

... ill covers the sky ...

____... according ... ministry of sci ...

A female voice sounded from the speaker, often interrupted by static but it was there. "Well, of course the antenna is important too," Charles pointed out, picking up the thin black cable which dangled from the back of the radio between thumb and index finger. He lifted it up, and after trying around a bit to find the best position, the woman's voice suddenly became clear.

"That would be.." - he ran his thumb over the wheel once more - "..here. You'll hear nothing but static now as I'm obviously sitting right beside you, but try it again tomorrow, between 8 AM and noon."

It was easy to become lost in that smile of hers, that sparkle of her sapphire blue eyes, and the thought that she would be listening to him tomorrow filled him with delight. "I'll send out some special greetings for you then," he said with a wink.

"Annnnd.. Maybe I could drop a hint or two about that concert of yours? Maybe we could do an interview of sorts.. or would it still be to early? Oh, do you need help with the preparations? Someone to advertise?" It was sweet to see his enthusiasm to please her. He still didn't believe her story, not entirely at least, but his eagerness was already far beyond what might have been caused by a simple crush even though he himself didn't realize it.

"Christmas Eve." Charles nodded. "That's a very sweet thought, I'm sure people will appreciate it. I'll do what I can to advertise.. Never underestimate the power of graffiti!" he added cheerfully, rising one hand to make the 'victory' sign. It was how he advertised his own little broadcasts after all, and hey, it worked. "I wonder if there might be a way to broadcast the concert.. Or, at the very least record it and broadcast it later.."

A thought came to him and he grinned at the songstress. "You know," he said half thoughtfully, half jokingly and quirked a brow, "musicians in this era aren't treated all that differently from what you'd expect of gods.. The famous ones, at least."

He shrugged. "I don't think anyone actually cares when I'm smearing a wall or two. Not anymore." For a moment there he looked haggard, tired. Two years ago he had led a carefree life, hopping from job to job, never paying much thought to the future or what he'd want to do with his life.

If someone had told him that two years later the whole world - no, make that the whole universe - would go to hell in a hand basket and he'd run a radio station to give people hope like some sort of book or movie character.. Well, he'd have laughed, and then he'd have bought a beer for that person, for the good story.

"Well, I guess what I wanted to say was.. Music.. Despite the hard times, it still reaches the hearts and minds of people, brings them together--" He broke off, looking a bit helpless. It felt weird, saying such things.

"I.. better go," he finally said, after a short moment of awkward silence. "I still need to listen through all the records, put together tomorrow's program.. Erh, would you like my adress? You can come over anytime you like, though you should be aware that my place looks like any bachelor's den - a complete mess. I hope you don't mind." She wouldn't, for some reason he was sure of it, but he felt better having her warned nonetheless. And, hey, he had just managed to drop the hint that he was still solo without much fuss.

She really wanted to stop by?! He'd have to make sure to have something to offer to her then, coffee or tea, and maybe some cookies or something.. Oh, and he'd definitely have to tidy up some.

"Your room can't be that bad," he said lightly. "Well, if you'd have something to write it down for you..? Or can you memorize?"

He glanced at the lyrics with obvious curiosity, not aware at all that they might not have been fro his eyes to see, before he flipped the page and scribbled down his address. He thought a little, and then decided to sketch out a quick map, just in case someone might have decided to get rid of the street signs, taking them along as a souvenir or whatever.

"There, that's it," he said, sliding the notebook towards Echo once he was done. "You'll have to go all the way up - I live in the attic."