Post by Liou on Jul 13, 2019 17:22:18 GMT -5
I couldn't pick just one prompt! So I didn't. Really taking advantage of the "The piece does not have to have a traditional plot structure" rule. >.> Chronology was hard to figure out so some details might be off.
Anyway I played around with someone of yours, Twillie ! Hope you enjoy it more than she did?
The dancers' hands fluttered from waist to face height, forming a striking synchronised line. The trimmings of their outfits shone under the dim lights while they chasséd into formation, arms raised.
The Queen rose in a burst of light. Launched into the air, she arched herself and was received by her dancers' awaiting hands. As she was poured down the human wave, the light reflected by their outfits brightened in proximity to her, as though she were the one emitting it.
Once she had been set down, the Queen paused for a silent second. Her head snapped up. Her electric blue gaze, mirrored by the overhead video displays, struck the audience like a match, and she prowled forth with feline grace. The dancers parted onto two walkways leading to the satellite stages. Each of the Queen's movements rippled in waves across the entire stadium as the crew echoed her.
The next songs were sung from an elaborate configuration of performer lifts on which the dancers swarmed and radiated around her, on an elevated lighthouse prop, in the middle of a starry night sky, and on a flying platform designed like a ship. Its vast, shimmering sails rippled around the Queen like wings as she sang beneath the mast.
The scene was abruptly cut by the image of the Queen throwing back her mane to belt her powerful note in a pulse of blinding light, body tensed in effort as real, luminous wings burst from her back. The sound had been omitted from that extract, of course.
The image from her final concert shrank into a corner and a presenter appeared on screen once again. Concealed by her redhead disguise, the Queen pursed her lips. Though she could not hear much from her table in front of the store, she was sure that they were merely speculating over her powers without a scrap of solid information.
Of course they would find ways to keep making their money off my back.
She idly wondered how much of the equipment had been searched, how many members of the tour staff had been questioned. By now, they must have realised that the large wig she'd kept with her wardrobe was nothing but a decoy, a veil thrown over her powers.
The Queen leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her hand with a thoughtful frown. The screen was showing more old footage. She narrowed her eyes. This was considered one of her classic performances. No one seemed to notice the way she kept misplacing her weight during one particular twirl, in danger of injuring her ankle every time.
Watching her on stage, it was almost possible to believe that she enjoyed every part of this. That she was doing it all for kicks. She could have fooled herself, fleeing in circles around the deep pit consuming her mind.
Her eyes flickered away from the screen and focused instead on the display inside the music store. The cardboard cutout had her in a fierce, almost ominous pose instead of the usual elegant, ethereal tilt. They had shifted goth music next to her display for that extra villainous edge, as if to stand in for Nyx Nightshadow brooding next to her.
No need to lay it on so thick.
Even though a ban had certainly been placed on the songs she had used to activate her hypnosis potion, her record company, far from giving up, seemed intent on making as many sales as they could while the buzz around her lasted. She would never see another penny of that profit.
The Queen smirked dryly. It didn't matter anymore. Let them try all they could. She had dared to stand up to their precious heroes, she was labelled a villain forevermore. The boycotts must have been trending by now.
It didn't matter anymore. Just to prove her curiosity right, she unlocked her phone, opened social media and selected one of the numerous pages pertaining to her.
She did find exactly what she had been expecting. Consternation, outrage, defense of the heroes who'd been hypnotised at her concert. Her face fell.
These comments were lost in a sea of support from her fans. Warnings not to play her latest song and reports of the incidents around the stadium peeked out shyly between swarms of "innocent until proven guilty uwu", "Queenie had nothing to do with it!" and "stop blaming the heroes' failures on the Queen 2k16".
The Queen could not decide whether to be flattered or disappointed.
("Queenyx confirmed!" ventured a particular section of her fandom. She averted her eyes.)
She swiped back to the home page.
It sat there mockingly, taunting her from the bottom of the list, but undeniably a trend on Chitter.
#MyQueenMyHero
Her stomach clenched. A red haze pulsed out of the numb void in her mind.
She rose from her seat with a jerk that nearly upset her half-full drink.
Those misconceptions would soon be quelled. As soon as she had exposed the heroes for what they really were.
Swallowing her rage, she left the tables and moved forward, crossing the mall. She was not looking forward to hiding in the cramped bunker again, but she would rather not stay away from Tim for too long.
Vials clinked in her large shopping bag, a refill for her supply of potion ingredients. The Queen had made her illusory face look older today, for a change. Perhaps the heroes wouldn't expect her to look like an older woman. The disguise had served her well in the small apothecary's from which she had helped herself, using her memory potion on the shopkeeper as usual.
It had only been a couple of days since the villains had been ousted from their lair, and all were being more cautious than usual - or at least, had been sternly instructed to be more cautious.
The Queen had not been sent out for a shopping trip. She did have flash drives to retrieve from a specific locker. They could wait a little longer. It was not like anyone at the bunker cared that she was left with barely any personal possessions after having to drop everything and flee twice. The signs of age had gradually faded from her face, leaving her as a mutinous, pouting redhead again.
It was getting dark; the hallways had gradually grown emptier, the ambient music more soothing, and the cleaning agents were beginning their work. The Queen entered a clothing store. Being able to project illusory clothing onto her body did not mean she should deprive herself of decent clothes to wear.
This store was much larger than what she usually went for. She lifted hangers from racks, picking out her size with a trained eye, keeping track of how much volume it would take. The lone employee left near the fitting rooms was busy sorting returns. As soon as the Queen had ducked behind one of the curtains, she set to work on the security tags, her breathing fast and steady. She conjured a large magnet, pliers for some of them.
Once everything was rolled up and tucked into her bag, she checked that the coast was clear, disposed of the vicious little pins from the tags - a pity that she could not keep them to stuff inside a villain's drawer the next time they bothered her - and started on her way out.
She exited with a hastily imitated janitor's uniform, her loot concealed within an illusory cart of cleaning supplies. She had to pause in the supply closet next to the ladies' room, catching a rest after casting these illusions. It was good practice. Her endurance had improved tangibly since the concert.
At last, she made her way to the nearby train station where her official errand awaited.
An unpleasant surprise also awaited her in the form of a sidekick.
Sighing under her breath, the Queen walked up to the junior villain and stood by her side.
"You're too obvious," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
The girl started under her black hoodie and glanced at the Queen without recognition. "It's you? About time, didn't you get my text?"
The Queen raised a brow. She didn't allow messages from villains she didn't team up with, or from their group chats. "This is not a two-person errand."
"They told me to join in!" said Fangirl, or whatever her name was. "Safety in numbers and all."
They must have sent her just to get her out of the way. Or to keep an eye on me.
"No, you'll just draw unnecessary attention. Wait here. Don't move. Don't do anything."
Unnerved, she found the right locker, entered the code and retrieved the drives as quickly as she could. She had not even reached Fangirl when the sidekick started to walk again - not heading back for the bunker, but up the escalator.
The Queen raised her chin and hoisted the bag up her shoulder. She was quite prepared to leave the girl right there. Iskender would have been too happy to blame her for whatever mess ensued, though.
The Queen sauntered up the escalator and after the girl in the hoodie. She fell face to face with a gigantic display. A series of heads towered above her from the top of the upstairs atrium. The Queen scoffed quietly. She didn't even have to look at them to know who they were.
So much of this city's economy revolved around the heroes. Colluded with them. Propped up their pantomime. She wouldn't have been surprised if this very station sold merchandise of them for one reason or another. Around her, travellers had paused with their suitcases to gawk up, or outright sat on nearby benches with their snacks to enjoy the view.
So what was the villains' sidekick doing up here? The Queen glanced up sharply, searching for Fangirl's hooded silhouette. Please don't tell me she's up there.
Of course she was.
Muttering curses, the Queen hopped over a cordon and climbed the scaffolding that still clung to the new display, conjuring small platforms here and there. She heard Fangirl unsheathe metallic blades; people below started.
"This is just a start," boasted the sidekick, "wait until we topple the real thing!"
She severed a few cables and the construct began to sway under her weight; people below gasped.
"You idiot!" hissed the Queen, throwing a shimmering rope. It caught around the sidekick's arm and yanked her back; she flailed in midair for a second and caught herself on the edge of the scaffolding across from the Queen.
"Get out of here immediately!" mouthed the Queen, drawing a hand across her throat for good measure.
Her rope had dissolved; she conjured a new one to swing down and make a hasty retreat.
She had not accounted for all the camera phones that swivelled to face her like so many meerkats.
Before she knew it, sunglasses and a hood had formed over her head, and she covered her mouth with her hand for good measure.
She was not prepared for what would happen next. It made her blood run ice cold.
"We have a new hero in town!" shouted a voice from the back of the onlookers. It echoed up to her through a thick fog.
Something reared from the pit in her mind, stretched and reached out with seething tendrils.
She could have struck someone. Anyone. The entire display behind her.
"Not one of them," she belted. Through the blood rushing in her ears, she couldn't tell how far her voice had carried. So she ran. She ran until she could hide, and when she was hidden, she changed her appearance, and hid again, and changed again.
"Why did you give me wings and want me to fall", she sang under her breath repeating the lyrics for as long as it took her to return.
"Even if that’s playing the villain, even if that makes me sad
You have to be you
Even if it hurts me, even if it's a sad ending
The show must go on"
The Queen rose in a burst of light. Launched into the air, she arched herself and was received by her dancers' awaiting hands. As she was poured down the human wave, the light reflected by their outfits brightened in proximity to her, as though she were the one emitting it.
Once she had been set down, the Queen paused for a silent second. Her head snapped up. Her electric blue gaze, mirrored by the overhead video displays, struck the audience like a match, and she prowled forth with feline grace. The dancers parted onto two walkways leading to the satellite stages. Each of the Queen's movements rippled in waves across the entire stadium as the crew echoed her.
The next songs were sung from an elaborate configuration of performer lifts on which the dancers swarmed and radiated around her, on an elevated lighthouse prop, in the middle of a starry night sky, and on a flying platform designed like a ship. Its vast, shimmering sails rippled around the Queen like wings as she sang beneath the mast.
The scene was abruptly cut by the image of the Queen throwing back her mane to belt her powerful note in a pulse of blinding light, body tensed in effort as real, luminous wings burst from her back. The sound had been omitted from that extract, of course.
The image from her final concert shrank into a corner and a presenter appeared on screen once again. Concealed by her redhead disguise, the Queen pursed her lips. Though she could not hear much from her table in front of the store, she was sure that they were merely speculating over her powers without a scrap of solid information.
Of course they would find ways to keep making their money off my back.
She idly wondered how much of the equipment had been searched, how many members of the tour staff had been questioned. By now, they must have realised that the large wig she'd kept with her wardrobe was nothing but a decoy, a veil thrown over her powers.
The Queen leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her hand with a thoughtful frown. The screen was showing more old footage. She narrowed her eyes. This was considered one of her classic performances. No one seemed to notice the way she kept misplacing her weight during one particular twirl, in danger of injuring her ankle every time.
Watching her on stage, it was almost possible to believe that she enjoyed every part of this. That she was doing it all for kicks. She could have fooled herself, fleeing in circles around the deep pit consuming her mind.
Her eyes flickered away from the screen and focused instead on the display inside the music store. The cardboard cutout had her in a fierce, almost ominous pose instead of the usual elegant, ethereal tilt. They had shifted goth music next to her display for that extra villainous edge, as if to stand in for Nyx Nightshadow brooding next to her.
No need to lay it on so thick.
Even though a ban had certainly been placed on the songs she had used to activate her hypnosis potion, her record company, far from giving up, seemed intent on making as many sales as they could while the buzz around her lasted. She would never see another penny of that profit.
The Queen smirked dryly. It didn't matter anymore. Let them try all they could. She had dared to stand up to their precious heroes, she was labelled a villain forevermore. The boycotts must have been trending by now.
It didn't matter anymore. Just to prove her curiosity right, she unlocked her phone, opened social media and selected one of the numerous pages pertaining to her.
She did find exactly what she had been expecting. Consternation, outrage, defense of the heroes who'd been hypnotised at her concert. Her face fell.
These comments were lost in a sea of support from her fans. Warnings not to play her latest song and reports of the incidents around the stadium peeked out shyly between swarms of "innocent until proven guilty uwu", "Queenie had nothing to do with it!" and "stop blaming the heroes' failures on the Queen 2k16".
The Queen could not decide whether to be flattered or disappointed.
("Queenyx confirmed!" ventured a particular section of her fandom. She averted her eyes.)
She swiped back to the home page.
It sat there mockingly, taunting her from the bottom of the list, but undeniably a trend on Chitter.
#MyQueenMyHero
Her stomach clenched. A red haze pulsed out of the numb void in her mind.
She rose from her seat with a jerk that nearly upset her half-full drink.
Those misconceptions would soon be quelled. As soon as she had exposed the heroes for what they really were.
Swallowing her rage, she left the tables and moved forward, crossing the mall. She was not looking forward to hiding in the cramped bunker again, but she would rather not stay away from Tim for too long.
Vials clinked in her large shopping bag, a refill for her supply of potion ingredients. The Queen had made her illusory face look older today, for a change. Perhaps the heroes wouldn't expect her to look like an older woman. The disguise had served her well in the small apothecary's from which she had helped herself, using her memory potion on the shopkeeper as usual.
It had only been a couple of days since the villains had been ousted from their lair, and all were being more cautious than usual - or at least, had been sternly instructed to be more cautious.
The Queen had not been sent out for a shopping trip. She did have flash drives to retrieve from a specific locker. They could wait a little longer. It was not like anyone at the bunker cared that she was left with barely any personal possessions after having to drop everything and flee twice. The signs of age had gradually faded from her face, leaving her as a mutinous, pouting redhead again.
It was getting dark; the hallways had gradually grown emptier, the ambient music more soothing, and the cleaning agents were beginning their work. The Queen entered a clothing store. Being able to project illusory clothing onto her body did not mean she should deprive herself of decent clothes to wear.
This store was much larger than what she usually went for. She lifted hangers from racks, picking out her size with a trained eye, keeping track of how much volume it would take. The lone employee left near the fitting rooms was busy sorting returns. As soon as the Queen had ducked behind one of the curtains, she set to work on the security tags, her breathing fast and steady. She conjured a large magnet, pliers for some of them.
Once everything was rolled up and tucked into her bag, she checked that the coast was clear, disposed of the vicious little pins from the tags - a pity that she could not keep them to stuff inside a villain's drawer the next time they bothered her - and started on her way out.
She exited with a hastily imitated janitor's uniform, her loot concealed within an illusory cart of cleaning supplies. She had to pause in the supply closet next to the ladies' room, catching a rest after casting these illusions. It was good practice. Her endurance had improved tangibly since the concert.
At last, she made her way to the nearby train station where her official errand awaited.
An unpleasant surprise also awaited her in the form of a sidekick.
Sighing under her breath, the Queen walked up to the junior villain and stood by her side.
"You're too obvious," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
The girl started under her black hoodie and glanced at the Queen without recognition. "It's you? About time, didn't you get my text?"
The Queen raised a brow. She didn't allow messages from villains she didn't team up with, or from their group chats. "This is not a two-person errand."
"They told me to join in!" said Fangirl, or whatever her name was. "Safety in numbers and all."
They must have sent her just to get her out of the way. Or to keep an eye on me.
"No, you'll just draw unnecessary attention. Wait here. Don't move. Don't do anything."
Unnerved, she found the right locker, entered the code and retrieved the drives as quickly as she could. She had not even reached Fangirl when the sidekick started to walk again - not heading back for the bunker, but up the escalator.
The Queen raised her chin and hoisted the bag up her shoulder. She was quite prepared to leave the girl right there. Iskender would have been too happy to blame her for whatever mess ensued, though.
The Queen sauntered up the escalator and after the girl in the hoodie. She fell face to face with a gigantic display. A series of heads towered above her from the top of the upstairs atrium. The Queen scoffed quietly. She didn't even have to look at them to know who they were.
So much of this city's economy revolved around the heroes. Colluded with them. Propped up their pantomime. She wouldn't have been surprised if this very station sold merchandise of them for one reason or another. Around her, travellers had paused with their suitcases to gawk up, or outright sat on nearby benches with their snacks to enjoy the view.
So what was the villains' sidekick doing up here? The Queen glanced up sharply, searching for Fangirl's hooded silhouette. Please don't tell me she's up there.
Of course she was.
Muttering curses, the Queen hopped over a cordon and climbed the scaffolding that still clung to the new display, conjuring small platforms here and there. She heard Fangirl unsheathe metallic blades; people below started.
"This is just a start," boasted the sidekick, "wait until we topple the real thing!"
She severed a few cables and the construct began to sway under her weight; people below gasped.
"You idiot!" hissed the Queen, throwing a shimmering rope. It caught around the sidekick's arm and yanked her back; she flailed in midair for a second and caught herself on the edge of the scaffolding across from the Queen.
"Get out of here immediately!" mouthed the Queen, drawing a hand across her throat for good measure.
Her rope had dissolved; she conjured a new one to swing down and make a hasty retreat.
She had not accounted for all the camera phones that swivelled to face her like so many meerkats.
Before she knew it, sunglasses and a hood had formed over her head, and she covered her mouth with her hand for good measure.
She was not prepared for what would happen next. It made her blood run ice cold.
"We have a new hero in town!" shouted a voice from the back of the onlookers. It echoed up to her through a thick fog.
Something reared from the pit in her mind, stretched and reached out with seething tendrils.
She could have struck someone. Anyone. The entire display behind her.
"Not one of them," she belted. Through the blood rushing in her ears, she couldn't tell how far her voice had carried. So she ran. She ran until she could hide, and when she was hidden, she changed her appearance, and hid again, and changed again.
"Why did you give me wings and want me to fall", she sang under her breath repeating the lyrics for as long as it took her to return.
"Even if that’s playing the villain, even if that makes me sad
You have to be you
Even if it hurts me, even if it's a sad ending
The show must go on"
Merci Moni and Ginz!