012 - Oh! Even In The Grave! pt.04
#12 of Beastiary Beas Part 1 - A Valentines Story
Dying on a molecular level kind of sort of, then being alright again kind of sort of, in a manner of a seconds is a harrowing ordeal to put it mildly. Gor' and Ideas pop outside for a little while for a smoke, Butters tells them they'll just wait here. Their body has been through a lot tonight, any more stimulus like cigarette smoke or even someone walking past with a slightly eccentric cologne, is gonna send them to chunder town. They decide to try to place five moves ahead and order a glass of water, knowing they are one or two shots away from being incapable of consider more then two seconds into the future. Future them will be thankful, while hanging out with these monsters has been fun they can't forget their goal for tonight of course! They're on the pull and while being approached by someone who trips into a puddle of their own sick is a great story for the other person, it'll be a pretty miserable outcome for Butters.
They start scanning around the room to see what the roster is at the moment, that's when they noticed to the back of the venue which they swore were empty when they came in, was completely set up for the band playing tonight. Butters recognised the venue's own instruments, appropriately gothic decorated such as the Double Bass with a femur for the neck, the skull filled with pellets acting like a makeshift maracas, the drumkit with convincing looking synthetic human leather. Also the electric keyboard which felt like the odd one out, no matter how much fake cobweb and horror film stickers covered the thing. Some raw aesthetics which betrayed the soft jazz they were very obviously about to play. While the house band; skeletons of various monstrous creatures, from avians to reptiles to aquatics, were tuning the instruments the singer for tonight made her way to the stage.
She was an Avain too, like Butters she was the kind to have the flesh suit OVER the skeleton, she had beautiful glistening black feathers covering the base of her talons. Judging by the length of her beak, Butters clocked that this was the Raven, a regular singer for the house band. She was wearing a sequinned dress that somehow merged into a hood around the top, an outfit where you could feasibly do the ballroom at 7 and make it just in time for the Trash Metal gig at 9. She approaches the microphone, even just a few clears of the throat was enough to bring the high energy room to a complete lull, she announces:
-Sorry for the impromptu comeback set tonight, it's just been... A rough couple of months and I needed to get this one out tonight, so I hope you all enjoy:
The Fairy offered the puppet his humanity
I wonder what was the first thing he did with the gift?
Did it take him as long as it took me?
Before the mirror's image, made you want to spew?
Cos that's the only thing humanity ever gave me
Makes me wish I had kept the receipt
Cash back all the things that it cost me
So I didn't have to spend so long relearning how to love you
Learning to love you, Learning to love me
After a while it becomes a similar thing really
Looking down and gazing at what's grasping
Met by Talons, ones which look a little less familiar each day
That disgust, not content spreads to everyone in the room
The loves of your life, start to twist and contort
Just cos they don't hate you as much as you hate yourself
The perks of acquiring adjacently to humanity, ay?
Hold the applause cos it gets even worse
Like how you begin to stop valuing those you adore
Least not as much as the comments and sneers
Of the raven that finds itself placed at your chamber door
Miles before you feel the caress of their lips upon your bill
The deafening rapping, unceasing, as if to implore
Not to loosen your grip on humanities wrist
Piss it all, for people who'd leave you bleeding on the moor
People think it's all over the moment you know that
Or perhaps when you're able to recite that darkness in prose
But it's a song I've sung in the thousands and still it burns
The gaze of the Raven they sent in the rafters, Rat-tat-tat-tat
It'll be a thousand more, until I can once again adore
Those who reflected my blessed monstrosity back at me
But while I've still inherited Humanities spite
On the rafters he'll stay and Rat-tat-tat-tat
Nothing infuriates Butters more then savage commentary providing with immaculately timed happenstance. They were fuming, they order another Long Island Ice Tea to nurse until their two companions returned.