Welcome to Gaia! ::

Octopai Trying For: Backup Guitarist/Vocalist
Name: Pisaila
Do you plan on RPing them?: Yesh!
Prompt Response:

A tiny, fairy-like face watched in confusion as the lead-singer was engulfed in fans. Every so often one made their way up to her, but for the most part she was able to see clearly that the attention was no equally focused.

She was used to their drummer getting little attention. He insisted on it, and she helped him fulfill his wishes by sneaking him past the gates before the crowds could consume him. She could see him now, watching from the side of the building, waiting for the rest of the band to follow. She also knew that their violinist could only take so many people before she simply left, overwhelmed by the screeching, head-pounding noises of the crowd. But, today everything seemed off.

They'd just finished a show, and it had gone pretty well. Very few mistakes in general, and the crowd was responsive. She always enjoyed responsive, active crowds. The show had ended a few minutes later than planned, after a demanded encore, and the band had quickly changed and prepared for the onslaught of autographs.

That's where it had gotten strange. The crowd had immediately swallowed their lead-singer alive, but she'd been left with perhaps ten or twenty fans around her. It had been at least a half an hour now, and the crowd around the singer refused to thin out.

Pisaila sighed, resisting the urge to shake her head. She slowly made her way over to where the drummer stood, watching her with careful eyes. All was silent, for a time...

"You're... distressed?"

She peeked up at his face, which stood a good amount above her own. "Distressed is a big word. I'm just a little... sad." Her emotions were so simple sometimes. No long, drawn-out words to express how she felt. Sad, happy, angry, excited. That was all she needed. Pure, simple words that didn't over-exaggerate.

The drummer nodded, and a sort of peace-inducing silence fell over them. He had always been good at leaving her in a peaceful silence. She thought so much clearer when things were calm.

"I shouldn't be."

"Hm?" His voice seemed questioning to her, like he'd forgotten what they were talking about.

"I shouldn't be sad. I should be happy." She waited for a response, but none came. "I should," She continued, looking up to make sure he was still paying attention. His eyes were cast downward on her, blank, though somehow welcoming her to continue, "I should be glad because the band is getting so big. We're reaching out to people." Her tiny head nodded, layered waves of golden hair swaying slightly. "And he's getting the attention everyone knows he's wanted. He deserves it, his vocals are amazing."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a slight nod, and was encouraged by just that small gesture to continue, "I'm sad, though, because I do want a little attention too. I know I have fans, and I know it's not like they don't know I'm there, I just want to be in there with them, sharing the love of the band and music created. I want them to know I care. You get that?"

The lack of response made her look up, but the drummer wasn't looking at her anymore. She rocked back on her heels impatiently, twisting her small face slightly.

"Pisaila."

She gasped and spun her head around to stare at the voice. There stood the lead singer, several fans behind him, and a tear streaked down his face. "Pisaila," he continued, "these are some of your fans. They wanted your autograph, but... I think you gave them a little more." In a loving gesture he closed the space between them and hugged her tight, whispering a soft, 'I'm sorry' and 'thank you' into he ear.

Just one hug warmed Pisaila and she clung tightly to her friend, giggling happily. "Don't be sorry~" She smiled sweetly. Pullling back slightly she wiped his tear away with her finger. "Let's go finish with the autographs."

Octopai Trying For: Backup Guitarist/Vocalist
Name: Adara
Do you plan on RPing them?: Oh course.
Prompt Response:

"Hey, my oh so favorite drummer. How are you today?" Adara grabbed onto the drummer's waist and dragged him into a hug. He chuckled lightly and hugged her before releasing her and moving slightly back as he spotted the lead vocalist making his way over to them, the fans trailing him and making quite a scene. Adara sighed softly, he had been getting a lot of attention lately and it wasn't that she was jealous or anything, but she had fans too. Everyone seemed to be pointing the spotlight on him now. Even though without her he wouldn't even have a band right now, much less half the ideas she had contributed to help the band. "I'll see you later." The drummer patted her shoulder and turned around walking away before the fans got to him; he had never liked crowds. So Adara stood there silently sulking as she watched the lead vocalist stop every few steps to either take a picture or sign an autograph. Had anyone stopped her for even her picture? No. Had anyone asked for an autograph? No. When he finally reached her, he ruffled her hair and turned her around so they could make it to the back stage for their concert this evening. "So how are you?" Adara shrugged. "I'm okay I guess..." Turning slightly towards her, he grabbed onto her arm and stopped her right before she got on stage. He watched her with a worried look, his tone filled with concern. "Adara what's wrong?" Pulling her arm from him she moved away. "Nothing." And then stepped onto the stage.

The show had gone really well, the fans had all turned into pack of raging animals at the end and had asked for more than a few encores. Adara had noticed of course that she was singing less and less, which only added to the nagging feeling she was getting. To her, it looked like she was getting pushed more and more into the sidelines. She felt completely depressed by the time they were packing up to leave. Adara hadn't spoken to the lead guitarist since he had asked her what was wrong and the band now swam in a very awkward silence. When they reached the door at the back, they were once more trapped by fans and media. The drummer and the pianist had moved off to the side, a few fans around them just like Adara. Sighing heavily after a few photographs, she was in such a sour mood she decided to leave but not before a hand landed on her shoulder and twisted her around to be faced with media clicking away trying to get pictures and interviews while fans screamed in the background. The lead vocalist put his arm around her shoulder and squished her closer to him, leaning down to whisper. "We're a team." Adara smiled, putting her arm around his waist and smiling and answering some questions. "Me and Adara write up everything, a real team. And a good one too." Adara looked up to the lead vocalist and poked his ribs as a thank you. Everything felt back in place... Almost.

Octopai Trying For: Drummer
Name: Loki
Do you plan on RPing them?: Yes, of course~
Prompt Response:

He had always prided himself on his independence.

When they had called him names – f*****t, gay, freak – he had just turned up his music and let them jeer. When they had broken his drumsticks, he had bought new ones. When they had punched him, he had stood back up. It hadn’t been easy, it was never easy, that was the price of being different. But he had never fought back, never lived in fear, Loki knew why they bullied him, why they tried their hardest to smash him to the floor. It was they who were threatened of him. It was always like that, they didn’t like new, they didn’t like unique. They were scared of it, of him, so they tried to bend him, make him normal, make him look like them.

Every time he stood back up only frightened them more.

He didn’t like to admit when things rattled him, he didn’t like it when he lost control, when he let things get to him. Which was why he never admitted, not even to himself, he never let anyone get close because of those bullies. He never told himself that they’re influence had silently slipped inside him and smashed his trust to the ground. He never let himself acknowledge that his thoughts were mistrustful, wary, nervous of others.

But even that barely shook him, compared to what he had seen.

He never had many fans, which was fine. Loki was confident that, at some point, it would turn into a war of popularity, a bitter struggle to come out on top, armed with the most fans. Happily, he would surrender. He really didn’t want any, especially after that last gig.

Through the piercing screams as the lead singer had belted out the first note, the girls reaching out to touch his tentacles he had spotted one girl. One girl who stood between the fake blonde groupies – girls who valued him the same way they valued dirt – one lone girl with blue hair and the tiniest patch of yellow. One girl, who the shadows seemed to consume in her silence, with eerily familiar make-up painted around her eye. He had dropped his drumsticks. They had slipped through his fingers, his usually firm grip fading into nothing, and suddenly the rest of the band wasn’t there either. There was only him and the girl, staring into each other’s eyes. She had giggled, his mouth had hung opened, she had smiled and he could only gawk, paralyzed in his seat.

He had known some looked up to people like him – musicians who were the odd ones out, the outcasts – hadn’t he done that? Wished to be like his favourite band – though now he supposed he no longer had to dream. Sometimes your wishes were granted. But sometimes, they came back to haunt you. Like her. He knew band members were models, people looked up to them, admired them.

But dressing like him? Looking like him? That struck him, tripped him into a pit of shock. It was almost pathetic, his reaction, almost as pathetic as those who had bullied him time and time again. And then the shock subsided, morphing into anger, rage. How could they? How could they, how could she copy him? Fingers wrapped around a stone as he whipped it through the water. Individuality… He was loosing it, no, he was loosing it, they were stealing it. They were stealing everything from him. A growl, a shout. He was nothing now. Nothing.

Maybe he should just change his style… No, that was giving into them and even worse, it would be giving up who he was, everything he was. He would never give into them; they were as low as the bullies he had faced time and time again. He would never give into them. Never bend into their will. That was the worst thing he could do.

Drumsticks pounded, heart raced, guitar, bass and violin filled his ears. And then the voices… He couldn’t help but smile, ever so slightly. This was home. This was what he loved. And then…eyes looked up, and locked with two girls, two girls that looked oh-so familiar. He only smiled wider.

They could dress like him, act like him but they could never be him.

It was flattering, in a twisted sort of way.

Octopai Trying For: Lead Vocalist
Name: Absynthe
Do you plan on RPing them?: Yup!
Prompt Response:

I read someplace that when something's bothering you, it helps to right it down in a journal. I kinda like that idea- I can write anything I want and if I keep it with me, the press can't get to it. I'd like to be able to talk to the band about some of my problems, but some things are just too personal. And besides, I wouldn't know how to bring it up without sounding conceited. I know that every young guy on the Coral Reef probably wants to be in my tentacles, even if it's just for a day. They think that the life I've got's a great one, and it is. I get to make the music I love and be with the people I like best in this world, my bandmates. They're awesome incarnate, they really are. But it's not handed to me on a silver platter. See, I might get to be with people I like, but not with who I really love... whoever that is. I couldn't be with either of the ladies in the band. I mean, they're both great gals, and both gorgeous, but they're my sisters, for chrissakes. I couldn't get involved with 'em, even if I wanted to. I'd be beating myself up over it forever, especially if I did one of 'em wrong and hurt her, and I wouldn't want them beat around by the tabloids like I am. Sure, I tell the rest of them that I don't even read the magazines, and that what they say about me doesn't mean a damn thing, but that's not true. I know how they see me- the wild child, the playboy, the partier. I'm not elegant like our lovely lady violin, I'm not withdrawn like Sir Drumsticks- I shake hands and smile and flirt. It's just who I am. But... the magazines also call me a womanizer and this bugs me. I haven't had a serious, meaningful relationship in a long time; I just sort of flit from groupie to groupie, having casual flings until their attention is directed elsewhere, leaving me for the next dude with a shiny codpiece or whatever. That's how groupies are- they don't, and, really, can't love you. The way I see it, it's a sacrifice I have to make. I don't like their attention- I make music for my soul, not for my body. That's not saying I don't like the fans. No, I love it when I get letters saying that some song or other really touched them, or when I hear that my voice moves them. It's the chicks who want me just because I'm famous that get to me. I dunno. I don't like dealing with the groupies, that's for sure. But fifty groupies are worth a note from a genuine fan, and a hundred groupies are worth keeping the band together. And even I hafta face the music- we're nothing without record sales. Music is our lives, and we have to be able to support ourselves, and nobody will produce us if we don't put out and make the public love us. And the public... well, the public is groupies. I just need to breathe, smile, go to a few parties, blow a few kisses, and think of the real fans, the ones I do this for, every time I'm dragged off to some hotel room. And most importantly, I can't tell anybody how I really feel. It'd break this band if I came out to the gossip rags sayin' "Ab hates groupies." The writers would trash me- sure, a few would say "Good for him, he's got integrity at least," but most of them are read by women like my groupies and written by people like my groupies. They wouldn't understand why I just don't want attention for the wrong reason.

Am I being a stuck-up jerk here? Is it wrong to not want attention? Am I being rude by separating my fans into "true fans" and "groupies," or is it something I just plain need to do, for my own sanity? How would people feel, hearing me saying "I mess around with groupies for you, it's a sacrifice," and what would they think of a man who spurned the affections of beautiful women because they weren't good enough fans for him? I'm already enough of a deviant, the last thing I need to be is an a*****e, too. Am I hurting the band by not telling them how I feel? How do I even bring the groupie issue up when the girls have issues of their own? This seems trivial and stupid and I shouldn't be concerned about it, but at the same time, I feel like it's tearing me apart. I suppose I should just savor the limelight while I can and, maybe when this tour's over and we can all sit down together someplace without worrying about getting to the next stop on time or where in the middle of nowhere can we find violin rosin, I can tell them. I just don't quite know when that will be.

See, this is why I needed a journal.