4581/Grief, Misery, and All The Happy Things

Grief, Misery, and All The Happy Things
Date of Scene:	21 September 2016
Location:	Beach City <BC>
Synopsis:	Steven Universe is visited by a spectre of Sorrow
Cast of Characters:	975, 1023

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Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The boardwalk was cool, and quiet. It was that special time of the evening, long after even the Big Donut had shut down. Empty store fronts stared at the sea-tasting air, and even the gulls had quieted for their slumber. It might even be creepy to someone new, but these empty places hold no fear for the residents; Familiar places awaiting only the brush of day's light to fill with familiar smiles and faces, the scents of fried food and the pinga-ping of Smiley's arcade in Fun Land.

Beach City is not an -untroubled- place, by any means; But it is home, isn't it?

Although in a Multiverse, strange things do wander unchecked as they do now. For a mist creeps slowly through the streets, cold in full defiance of the warm air blowing from the ocean. It hushes the distant roar of ocean waves even as it magnifies and distorts sounds within its grasp; The creak of wood from each step. The sound of breath echoing from lips.

The soft sound of weeping, a patter of tears from one of the shallow alleyways behind.

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    Steven wanders out of the arcade, having just finished an evening of helping out Mr. Smiley, sweeping and other jobs both mundane and strange. Apparently he is still working off some sort of debt, or perhaps he just likes the excuse to hang out at the arcade when he has nothing else to do. He appears entirely satisfied with his situation until a cool misty breeze causes him to shiver, a very unusual occurrence here in the warm Beach City atmosphere. Drawn out of his reverie, Steven looks about, something does not seem right at all.

    "Hello? Is there someone there?" As the sound of crying reaches him, he looks worried, clearly someone is hurt and maybe he can do something to help! He always likes helping people!

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The soft sobbing sniffles off for a moment, the mist thickening; Piling up upon itself. refusing to obey the natural rule of weather. Tendrils of its chilling touch tend to cling with each movement, like a mockery of ethereal webs - but it offers no resistance to movement, even as sight and sound are slowly ebbed away.

The young gem's voice echoes unnaturally, bounced further back into the darkness behind Fish Stew Pizza. There is a creak of wood, something shifting slowly. Before a voice echoes back, flat and empty - and feminine. Familiar, much?
".. Little boys should be home in bed. Little boys might wind up dead." A tremble, and the gentle sobbing once more starts up. The occasionall patter of droplets hitting the wood of the boardwalk.

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    Aaaand Steven realizes just how creepy the situation has become. Cold mist in the warm evening, a secluded alleyway he can't see into, and a voice he does in fact recognize... This is dangerous! But still, he really did want to try and help the scary crying lady, maybe this could be a chance. Wait, did she say dead?

    "Ummm... You're right, maybe I should be in bed..." He starts backing away. "Ummm, were you... looking for me?" Maybe he doesn't want to lead her to his house though.

    "I... wrote you a song?" Still backing away, now he might be babbling a little.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The soft patter of tears continue to fall, a shuddering breath from the darkness. Before Ophelia's voice floats out once more, quiet and shivering. ".. No, I wasn't looking for you. I don't want you anywhere near me, you ****'ing.." She chokes off, voice trembling once more. And then the boards creak once more; Just once.

And like a ghost from the fog, she glides from the darkened alleyway. Head turned downwards, pale blue skin making her barely a silouette in this mist filled atmosphere. No mad smile, no cracked and broken giggling - yet. Just someone who looks like Lapis gone horribly, -horribly- wrong. The black tears trickle down her cheek once more, quietly pattering against the board below her.

".. A song for me?" There's that smirk. Cruel and brittle as a shard of glass.

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    "Umm, yeah, I... I thought maybe it could cheer you up a little." Wow, she's even creepier than he remembers, and that black stuff just seems to radiate everything antithetic to Steven's nature. "Umm, it's not metal like you play. I just have my ukelele. But it make me feel better so I thought..."

    He trails off again, part of him really moved by the profound sadness of the crying lady, but more of him demanding he move away from the crying lady. Still, he can handle himself, he's a Crystal Gem!

    "Do... do you wanna hear it?"

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Pain and loss are a constant; The only ****'ing guarantee."
Begins the the Queen of Tears, even as she cups her clawed hands over her own mouth. A faint shudder rolling through her form as she slumps sideways, against the wall; Her pitch tears leaving faint trails of black down the back of her knuckles. After a few more moments her hand drops away, dangling at her side as her head tilts up. Those eyes - bright white against the backdrop of dead blue skin and the 'running mascara' - half lidded.

"You can't heal a broken heart." And then she pauses, eyes closed. That cruel little smile curling up the corner of her black lips again. "You've got such a tender little soul, don't you? I bet you bruise very easily."

".. So why not? Play me your ****'ing sound, little man. I'd be -delighted-."

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    Steven swallows, but the little smile, jagged as it may be, actually seems to encourage him somehow! He reaches back and draws his ukelele from his Cheeseburger Backpack and nods, playing a little warmup chord. Then he starts a sort of sweet and bubbly pop music tune.

"I love the limelight, I love the stage
I love to sing and dance and I'm all the rage
Because I know if I can make you move, make you dance along
I can take all your worries and pains away with my song

So let it all go
Let your body move
Get yourself into time
With my funky groove

So if you're feeling really bad and life has got you down
Just listen to this song, let the rhythm move you around
Don't think, don't worry, just feel the good vibes through
And your feet will tell your heart and soul just what you should do

So let it all go
Let your body move
Get yourself into time
With my funky groove"

    By the time the song ends, he has slipped so into the sappy mindset he's smiling and dancing along a bit. Definitely a source of diabetic shock.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Well, at least it stopped the broken creature from crying. It starts with disbelief, bordering on horror. And slowly curls her nose upwards into disgust - and, finally, HATE, as she is literally backed into the alleyway by the horrid sound of -HAPPY-. Happy, let's-get-along, why-don't-you-sing-a-song-ness. Lips peel back from white teeth, and her claws spread wide-
Before she pauses. And something goes 'click' in the black bitchiness of her hind brain. For Steven? Steven was loved. You could see it by how the fat pink bitch doted on him.
The fat pink bitch also hurt Ophelia.
How much would it hurt the fat pink bitch to watch the little stupid man - sink?

Claws evaporate like smoke, curling between the pale blue fingers as Ophelia straightens. Tips her chin up, lips open as she exhales slowly - breath cold as frost. Strength. ****'ing Bleak Gods of DEATH METAL, give her ****'ing STRENGTH for this. And then she refocuses on Steven, the cruel bitterness of a smirk disappearing into a cold smile.
Somehow, that's worse. ".. Backdrop's a little ****'d up, but A for effort." The creature squats down, lifting her hand. Ectoplasmic smoke whispers up from her, curling along her forearm, until the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbles into existance. The other hand gestures.

"Why don't I teach you.. a new song to play? And a proper ****'ing instrument to play it on."
The ethereal guitar's strings practically glow, a faint hum in the air of -anticipation-. It would take patience - oh, so much ****'ing patience - but just imagine how many people could feel Sorrow's bittersweet sting if she can pull it off?

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    She... wants to jam? That could be fun, if there wasn't something so viscerally terrifying about her. Though, he did get her to stop crying so that's progress right? Also, that IS a really cool looking guitar, like the kind on some of those album covers his dad has...

    "Ummm, sure! That's what music's for after all, bringing people together! Right...?" Still a little uncertain, especially with the eerie situation, but that fount of positivity just never runs dry!

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Your music, perhaps; But METAL is about -power-, little man."

Comes the broken giggle from the broken creature, as she swings the Six Stringed Sorrow beneath her own claws. Fingers draw up along the strings, wake candles flaring to life along the machine-head; It needs no power but that of BEAUTIFUL ****'ING METAL itself. A quick and hard slide right up the neck and back down again, eyes half lidded as she does a few quick chugs; And yet somehow, in the background, one can -hear- the sudden bass coming into existance. The slow, steady pulse of a drum keeping time.
"It's about taking everything that is inside you - and spraying it. Like cutting a vein, or chewing through your wrist. It's about hammering the ****'ing brutal of the world into a sound on the anvil of your ****'ing soul." She squeezes the strings, choking out the sound; All of which fades at once. The soft hum continues, however, as she proffers the strange guitar. Eyes half-lidded, a grit-toothed smile.

"I don't have any friends, little man; I don't ****'ing want any. Those you trust will hurt you badly, after all. But maybe you'd like to try..?"

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    Steven is smart. He knows this is not safe. He knows this lady means only harm. He knows that every single one of the gems would advise against even talking to her. But... he refuses, utterly, to accept that anyone is beyond help. Beyond caring. Not Jasper, Not Bismuth, not even the Diamonds though he hasn't yet really gotten to know any of them. He has done things he wishes he didn't have to, and he has hurt for it, and that just drives him to help soothe other people's hurts even more. Maybe that's why he reaches for the guitar. Or maybe he just doesn't have any common sense at all.

    "Everybody needs friends. Mom loved heavy metal music, and I wanna learn how to play it too. Then maybe I can be your friend. Someone you can trust, who won't hurt you." It should be "loves," but then he's not sure if this alternate Rose Quartz still does, all he knows is the one from the video did. As for trust, well, he hasn't had an entirely positive track record of not hurting people who trust him lately, but he can't quit trying either...

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
It's at the first touch that Steven may feel it; Power. Like a static shock, rippling up through his arms and back again. For as every grief is different - and the boy does have his own Sorrow, deeply buried beneath caring friends and family - so too does the guitar shape itself to him. A single, low note that echoes outwards, the mist dispersing as if blown away to leave the clear stars above. The thin spider-like body straightening out, shortening, even as the long neck fattens near the base;

A Star body, the machine-heads long prined and tapered up away from the neck itself. Sparks from a comet's tail. Black bodies and silver lined, the Shooting Star takes form in Steven's hands, before it continues the low, slow hum of -anticipation-.

"No.. Steven. Friends will hurt you; Maybe not intentionally. But it will happen. Maybe they'll grow up - maybe you will. Maybe they'll die, maybe you'll fight. But in the end you'll be alone as you look back on what once was; What could have been. The little betrayals, or the big ****'ing betrayals, they all cost; , and all that is good and precious in you will wither and blacken."
Bright white teeth, behind black lips. "Like me. Just think about that in your pretty bed tonight - what will you be, when there's no one left?"
She lets that hang for a moment, before pale blue fingers grip the boy's own hand. Her chin down, eyes covered by the shadow of her dark hair. The soft patter of tears falling once more from her chin.
"Play me a ****'ing song, Steven. Reach deep."

Steven Universe (1023) has posed:
    Steven watches in fascination as the guitar changes to fit his style. It doesn't look nearly as scary now, in fact it kinda seems like something he might have designed himself had he been trying... He touches a string tentatively, and the sound that echoes is in fact POWERFUL. Harsher than his ukelele ever was, but not in a bad way, just... different. This... actually seems like a positive thing? Maybe it's not a bad thing, maybe it's just... well, kinda cool!

    He strums a few chords, the raw power of the notes kind of intoxicating, and starts a song a little faster, a little harder than his usual, though the lyrics don't seem much changed...

"All of the things that have hurt you...
All of the times you felt pain
Sometimes it feels like too much to
Handle, too much to contain...
All you really need is friends!
They can help you through!
All you need is friends
To help carry you!
Through all the fire and the flame
Through ice and sleet and rain
Through all the worst of things
Friends help carry you!"

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Harsher than a ukelele? No - more BRUTAL. More real. More somber. The broken creature pulls her hand back as Steven touches the first few strings; But as he sings and plays hard, a few interesting things happen:

First, the strings -light up-. Glowing, as if caught in the feedback loop of his own sudden inspiration. The more you give to METAL, the more you get from METAL.
Second, lights streak overhead in the distant sky - comets, in time to each string pluck. Sound echoing, the casual hit of drums to match Steven's song, his own accompaniment. METAL was a powerful ally, but it had no Master - not even the Avatar of Death Metal. And no one could argue that Steven had music built into his very soul.
Third? Drowned Ophelia has clasped her hands over her own head, snarling silently at the upbeat and happy tune. She jerks, as if struck, twisting her head away and curling up against the wall behind her. When the last note is struck - the Shooting Star quite suddenly melts. Bubbling away to black liquid, which evaporates before it ever hits the ground.

The Broken Queen gasping, gripping her throat as she straightens suddenly. And begins stumbling away, towards the beach. "Water's.. so thin.. suddenly.."
As if she were having trouble breathing. But she doesn't breathe at all! Both hands wrap about her throat, and she steps into the sand. Falling to her knees, still gasping. "Dig the well deep." She murmurs, even as her form begins to drip away. Ichor to ectoplasmic smoke, which sinks into the sands..

TOO ****'ING HAPPY.