to swing on the spiral of our divinity

[anthophilia]

[ Wolfwood’s worked in private security for a while, but never in a role as public as for a pop star. This is probably thanks to his… occasionally shady past; little bits here and there in his history that make him ideal for, say, Saudi royalty who believe (rightly or otherwise) that every corner they turn is potentially hiding someone ready to make an attempt on their life, who’ll need to be taken out expediently. So it’s kind of a surprise to get a call from an annoyingly silky-voiced PA about working daily with one of the biggest names in music. Wolfwood’s honest about his history, and surprised to learn that they know exactly what kind of things he’s been up to and that it’s exactly why they want him. Apparently there’d been a credible threat against their golden goose and the previous security had responded in a way they found… lacking. So Wolfwood had met with the PA, and the met with the producer, and now he’s in an elevator on his way to meet with the star himself. The last hurdle, because as the producer in question had put it, he needs to trust you, and I need to trust you with him.

It's a job. It’s just a job. But there’s a part of Wolfwood that’s screaming internally to keep it cool, because although likes to think he’s too jaded to have favourites, he definitely had a favourite artist when he was about 19. He’d spent countless hours laying on his bed with the best headphones he could afford, eyes closed, soaking up the music. A tangle of discordant melodies and arrhythmic beats all layered one on top of the other until they somehow made a glorious, perfect whole, all laid over with grim and cutting lyrics sung in such a sweet voice it was like poetry. And the singer himself was a perfect reflection of the music – a long red coat made up of so many straps and buckles and strips of leather that it evoked an avant-garde straightjacket, chunky black boots that came so high up the singer’s long, long legs that they must have been about crotch-height on an average person. Blond hair spiked vertically, like a warning, and in the middle of all that a face as sweetly beautiful as an angel’s. Wolfwood had also thought he was too cool for crushes, but he’d definitely been nursing one on that singer. Vash. Vash had released two poorly-selling albums of the best music Wolfwood had ever heard - Stampede and Typhoon - and then promptly vanished off the face of the music industry.

Vanished until he’d come back years later, with a softer coat and softer hair and the same sharp lyrics but set to the kind of pop beats that make Wolfwood begrudge the way he taps his foot, and put said industry in a chokehold. Now his music is playing on tv and radio everywhere Wolfwood goes. Teens dance to his music all over tiktok and pack out stadiums where the tickets are in such demand they’re sold by lottery, and still at prices that make Wolfwood wince. Even the producer and co-writer has had an image makeover – it almost startled Wolfwood to recognise the slick music mogul Nai was the same man who’d been credited as the (unhinged-sounding) Knives on the albums Wolfwood had loved so much. All in all, it’s pretty embarrassing – but nowhere near embarrassing enough to put him off the pay they’re offering.

The elevator dings its arrival, and the blue-haired PA rolls his eyes at the way Wolfwood adjusts his very best suit and leads him into the biggest, fanciest penthouse suite Wolfwood’s ever laid eyes on – Saudi royalty included – and murmurs I’ll let you two get acquainted before installing himself at the back of the room and making a very poor show of being focused on his ipad, not the other two men in the room. Vash is leaned in close to a laptop, headphones on, focused on something so deeply that it puts a little furrow in his brow, so Wolfwood awkwardly tries to edge into his field of view and… waits. It’s probably gonna fuck this whole deal to demand his attention, right? ]

Comments

[anthophilia]

[ Fuck, but he's cute. Wolfwood can't help the warm smile that unfolds across his face. This little secret mission is probably gonna be the one time he can drive Vash around in his own car and not be identified if they get spotted, but the joy beaming out of Vash is worth it. He stands, pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket and hands them off to Vash. They're dark enough to hide the distinctive colour of his eyes and just big enough to cover his little beauty mark. Once they get his bright blond hair hidden, only one of his... millions of fans would recognize him. Good thing Wolfwood's car has tints that really ride the line of what's legal. ]

You got a hat? There's one in the car if you don't. And if you don't mind wearing mine.

[spiculatus]

[ settling the sunglasses on his nose! they're darker than the glasses he's used to, but the upside? vash is 100% convinced they make him look cool! ]

I wanna wear yours! It's more like a disguise that way!

[anthophilia]

Sure thing, Blondie. Let's roll.

[ No point lying to himself; he's getting a real kick out of how hype Vash seems, and that's only increased by the fact that Vash wants to wear his hat - even if it's just for the novelty of feeling disguised, and not because it's Wolfwood's. It's no faster getting through all the security measures on the way out of Vash's swank-ass apartment than it is getting in, but once they're down to the parking and safely ensconced in Wolfwood's carefully nondescript car, he's starting to get infected with Vash's excitement. Enough to forget his old cds of Vash's first two albums in jewel cases so battered it can only be a sign of heavy use are in the glovebox when he gestures to it and says ]

Beanie's in there. Try and tuck all your hair under it, pull it low in front.

[spiculatus]

[ vash is happy enough just to follow along at wolfwood's heels like a duckling, trying not to let too much excitement bleed through until they're out of sight of the regular penthouse security.

but! then he's sliding into wolfwood's car, eagerly opening up the glovebox and pulling out the beanie within like it's treasure. of course, tugging it out is enough to make one of the CDs go tumbling down to the floorboard of the car, and vash promptly chirps out a whoops, sorry! and dips down to retrieve it.

... of course, once he picks it up and sees what it is? there's a long moment of silence before he swallows and manages a little: ] ... wow, haha, you really did your research before you took this job, huh?

[anthophilia]

[ Aw, shit. Wolfwood can feel the tiny trace of a flush that tints his cheeks even when he realizes what's fallen, let alone during the quiet moment of Vash staring at it before he speaks. Wolfwood clears his throat awkwardly. Well, it'd be weirder to lie about it at this point, so - ]

Nah. I was a real big fan. S'like you were saying about what people tell you about your music. Gave me a boost through some tough shit, you know?

[ But oh, shit - ]

That's not why I took the job. Not gonna lie and say I didn't flash back to a moment of teenage giddiness when I found out the star they wanted me to work with was you, but I was already pretty set on trying to get this gig. If that makes it too awkward for you... well, I'll be chafed about it, but I'll understand.

[spiculatus]

Wh --?

[ a blink, turning an almost startled look in wolfwood's direction. ]

You were a fan? Of... this?

[anthophilia]

Yeah.

[ Wolfwood doesn't often feel awkward, but this is close to excruciating. He scrubs a hand through his hair, tries to keep the smile on his face from looking too sheepish. ]

I'd never heard anything like it. Sounds almost messy, but in a way where all the mess comes together and makes something damn near perfect. Not that your new stuff isn't good, Christ knows your sales back it up. But it's real polished, and your early stuff was... raw.

[ Oh, Wolfwood. You blew up your spot even worse than it was already blown. He shakes his head. ]

Guess a little speech like that gives away that it'd be more accurate to say I am a fan of that. If I'm already showin' my ass, I might as well admit I only keep it in the car 'cause I've got it on vinyl at home.

[spiculatus]

I --

[ looking back at the jewel case in his hands, speechless for another long moment. ]

Really? This isn't -- I mean, you've already got the job, I promise!

[anthophilia]

[ Wait, what? ]

You think I'm fluffing your ego just to clinch the deal? Nah. If anything, I thought it mighta ruined my chances to admit it. Make it sound like I was a kooky fan just trying to get close to you, or something.

[spiculatus]

Oh! No, it doesn't ruin anything, just --

[ shaking his head, a crooked little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he reaches out to trace the letters of the album title. ] ... I didn't know anyone really liked these.

[ they hadn't been widely circulated, critics had been fairly scathing, and it had led to vash being dropped from the little indie label who'd taken a chance on him. almost enough to end his career before it ever started. ]

[anthophilia]

Liked is an understatement.

[ It still feels awkward, but... at least Vash sounds happy to hear it? ]

I think I woulda liked it anyway, but you put those out at a time when they were just what I needed to hear. Reminded me that the fact I'd fucked up my life didn't mean I didn't deserve to try for better. I already told you I had a point where I realized I had to turn things around. Typhoon and Stampede were pretty much the soundtrack for that.

People just didn't know what they were missin', I guess. The marketing was shit. I only found it 'cause I was digging through the bins at a music store and the cover made me curious.

[spiculatus]

We didn't have any marketing.

[ with a little laugh, his voice low and fond. ] Couldn't afford it, not back then. I used to perform at some clubs here and there, and I thought selling some CDs after the show might help get the music out. Nai and I pooled together everything we had just to record the first run.

[ and it had worked, at first. they'd only made a couple hundred of the CDs, but they'd cleared out all their stock after the next couple of shows, and one of them had made it into the hands of the label that ended up signing vash. the label had paid for another run of the first album and even produced the second, but... it was all just a flash in the pan. a cult following, and that had slowly died off after a handful of scathing reviews and some scattered internet controversy. ]

I never really expected to stumble across one of these again. Not like this, at least.

[anthophilia]

Ha! That explains it, I guess. When you put it like that, it almost seems like a miracle I ever heard you.

[ Obviously that sucks for Vash, but at the time it had been kinda exciting for Wolfwood. Like he'd been let in on a secret, like his love for the music was all the more special because he was only one of a few who knew about it. On reflection, maybe he and the handful of other diehard fans should have been loud about it rather than hoarding it like treasure. ]

Takes guts to put yourself out there like that. Even more to take a second run at it.

[spiculatus]

I'm glad it meant something to someone.

[ and then he's tucking the CD carefully back in the glovebox before shutting it again and starting to work on the not-so-easy task of hiding all of his hair up under wolfwood's beanie.

a little laugh, though. ]

I don't know if this counts. [ it's not really putting yourself out there if what's out there isn't really yourself, right? ]

[anthophilia]

[ If Wolfwood understood what Vash was talking about, he might say something like: if the reason you make music is that you want to make people happy, then making music that makes people happy is putting yourself out there regardless of what kind of music you're making. Unfortunately, due to a combination of knowing nothing about how making music works and being too charmed by Vash and too relieved that his dark secret of being an old Vash fan seems to have charmed Vash in turn rather than putting Vash off, Wolfwood thinks Vash is talking about the disguise. He snorts a little laugh, and reaches to tuck a stray strand of blond hair up under the dark beanie. ]

You're puttin' something out there, at least.

[ A pause as he surveys their handiwork. This close up even through the shades Vash's eyes actually seem bigger without all that hair distracting from them, but once you get past that it's something almost verging on edgy. ]

Not bad. A septum ring'd really make the look. Better not push our luck with a trip to a piercing studio, though.