Linna settled by the high table Priss always had reserved for her, or any of the Knight Sabres, if they chose to come to one of the blue Sabre's Hot Legs gigs. She was late, her damn scooter putting out again. Priss was most of the way through her set – Linna hoped Priss hadn't noticed, she said that we was going to make it this time – but she must have; she felt the eyes and saw the tap to the temple. Inwards she cringed and small waved back.
A waitress brought a drink over.
Linna wasn't that much into Priss' kind of indie rock music, no matter how hard Priss had tried – making her listen to her best of collections at her trailer, getting her to listen to the songs she was writing; she couldn't offer much feedback, "That's great Priss, a lot of energy, it really catches your anger." She knew her reaction upset, hurt, and angered Priss a little, and maybe made some of the songs became directed at her. She didn't mind. That was Priss. "I'm sorry, Priss" she would say, "I'm just not that into this kind of music." She'd sweat as Priss replied "Miss pop-forty." That's what they played at work, in the shops, on her pathetic little scooter's little radio.
And each time Priss finished a song she clapped and whistled. The crowd, a whole bunch of actual fans, didn't notice her.
The set finished, the band left and the crew came quickly to pack everything away and then began to set up new equipment.
Priss sat down beside her, wiping away the show's sweat.
"Do you mind?" Priss didn't. "Sorry for being so late."
Priss shrugged, not in her, I-do-mind way, another: "Shorter gig tonight," she looked over at the stage, "Some overseas band."
"Know who?"
Priss shook her head and emptied Linna's glass.
"Don't think that was for you,"
"Gee, thanks."
Typical banter that continued as the stage was prepared until the taped music that had begun when Priss set had completed was cut and out onto the stage came the foreign band. Five members walked out and took their positions. The singer, tousled stringy black hair, deep eye liner and red lipstick adjusted the mic to his height.
The crowd, Priss, Linna, turned their attention to them.
And it began with drums; bass joined in -
And Linna was entranced.
The air of it. She let her eyes close and began to sway her body, her arms, let her shoulders roll as she let the empty echo of the music fill all of her mind, atoms, particles transcended to a simple, point of sublime serenity. Unconsciously she drifted on the instrumental current's pull through the statue crowd of silent witness, parting the sea of Noah, touchless to be, unaware, lidded eyes, pressed lips, to the fore of the stage, only light in the shadow solitary.
"Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream" she said
"The one that makes me laugh" she said
She would have seen, if she wanted to see, wanted any other sense than the simple rhythm of the bass and introducing drum guiding her fiber of soul, the singer staring down directly at her, eyes nowhere else, strum and fingers muscled mesmerised, singing just for her through tussled strand; fingers, clouds, flying through clouds. The joy.
And threw her arms around my neck
"Show me how you do it
And I promise you I promise that
I'll run away with you
I'll run away with you"
Lost in it, pulled apart, exposed to the beauty; filling.
Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
Controlled fully, musically, wonderfully, letting it all, the myriad layers of sound seep so far, depths untouched before, synchronised. Nothing else to describe, wordless, thoughtless, at once floating, drifting, lost to the angelic.
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"
You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream
Words, sound, lifting crescendo raising her eye on her feet, spinning slowly, head raised; warmth of the stage lights, lyrics, sound, everything raise her bodily. Overwhelming. Overwhelming rapture. Breaking her apart in firefly shower across auroric night skies.
You're just like a dream
Spinning, her arms raised and out, spinning, control relinquished to the air's uplifting current of struck key's paradoxical solid aching haunt. It can go forever, let it go forever.
Daylight licked me into shape
Pulled, pulled back to her moment, following the deep bass back to her present, back to her singularity, her self. Guided by melody.
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And did she. Attention of centre, his deep into hers, there for her anchor. Lifting smile infectious, returned. Sea of saying bodies brought to life with the play of fingers, ebbing, flowing, in joined solitude around her euphoric tether.
And found myself alone alone
Alone above a raging sea
Priss, drawn to phorcy's daughter, her unknown; as she had through the soul-twined, through rapid turmoil, awed by transformation; form possession. Sweat, chilling heat; she infused, refused this beatific spirit gifted by...
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me
You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven
And it faded and she came whole, and the singer bent down and she took his held out hand, his gentle shake banishing the last tingling thrill.
"Thank you,"
Priss caught her.
Lyrics Just Like Heaven (c) The Cure, on repeat.