Nils looked over to the person beside him in the dark space. The guy who lived here - what was his name again? All he could remember was that it started with an A. He was taking a swig of beer and leaning against a pole, eyes paying close attention to the proceedings despite the drunken glaze over them. Their eyes met; Nils gave a nod and a thumbs-up to the music, and the guy threw a fist up and let out a drunken roar that was barely heard over the cacophony despite its volume.
The performer was a slight, plainly dressed Asian man, ensconced in a fortress of delay pedals, synthesizers, a looping machine, a mic, and what looked like a small engine...?
During a quieter part of the set, Nils moved away from Gilbert’s incessant elbowing and toward the punkish guy and nodded to the performer. “This is great,” he whispered. “Do you know his name?”
“Fuck yeah, it’s great. Been trying to get ‘im to play here for ages, feels like,” another swig of beer. “Don’t know ‘is name, usually keeps to ‘imself unless he’s with Ivan,” a nod in the direction of one of the biggest guys Nils had ever seen. Arthur beckoned him over, adding “His performance name is Sutatoransu, though.”
The Ivan guy came over, and Nils suddenly felt incredibly short. And skinny. Normally he considered 5’8” a perfectly acceptable height, but this guy was way over six feet. “How tall are you?!” was out of his mouth before anything else - Nils blamed his beer for the slip.
Arthur rolled his eyes while Ivan chuckled. Nils barely heard the low “Around six and a half feet” over a rumble of bass from the Asian guy.
“Anyway, Ivan, this guy, er - “
“Nils,” he supplied.
“I’m Arthur by the way -” a tip of the head, “this guy Nils was asking about your pal, wasshis name again?”
“Kiku.”
“Yeah, him.”
Ivan fixed Nils with an intense stare. “I’ve seen you around a lot. With that loud guy,” he pointed over to Gilbert.
Nils resisted the urge to facepalm but let out a frustrated sigh anyway. He was saved from having to reply by an elbow to the ribs from Arthur (another one of these guys?! crossed his mind).
“This is my favorite part,” Arthur hissed.
The performer - Kiku, Nils amended - unsheathed what looked like a real, legitimate samurai sword, yanked the mic down to the running motor, and proceeded to grind the sword into the whole mess. A horrendous shrieking was soon amplified, looped, and distorted; it was a truly terrible sound that bounced off of the empty walls, concrete floors, and into one’s chest.
The three of them watched and shivered, enraptured.
---
Afterward Elizabeta and Kiku were going through her camera, looking at pictures of the show and chattering on in the way that suggested they had known each other a while.
Ludwig walked up and greeted Eliza softly. She smiled at him brightly and introduced her two friends to one another. All three debated the merits of digital SLR’s for a bit and bonded over sharing the secret of not caring that Polaroids no longer existed: Eliza thought them wasteful, Ludwig frivolous and expensive, and Kiku simply liked digital in any format better.
“Hey, guys, Tina’s calling me - catch ya later - “ and she left the two of them to themselves.
They stood there a moment before Ludwig said “You know, the museum is having a special exhibition of black-and-white architectural photographs.”
“I had heard of this,” Kiku politely replied.
“Well, I’m in the architecture program at the University, and since you’re interested in photography,” he paused, not sure how to go on, and Kiku shifted a little, “er, would you want to attend with me?”
Kiku smiled softly. “That sounds okay.”
---
“Whoa, it’s weird to see girls at noise stuff like this!”
Natalia looked up from her discussion with Eirik and Tina about tonight’s show. A really pale guy in all black was addressing her.
“Excuse me?!” Tina crossed her arms and scowled defiantly at him. “What do you think I am, Gil?”
“Heh, I mean...” he gestured around the room. “There are only three girls here. And I dunno if Eliza counts.”
“Eliza! Get over here!” she called. “We’ve got a chauvinist pig to stuff.”
“Anyway, I’m Gilbert,” he said to Natalia, and flashed a roughish smile. “And you are?”
Look at this Fucking Fill [2d/?]
Nils looked over to the person beside him in the dark space. The guy who lived here - what was his name again? All he could remember was that it started with an A. He was taking a swig of beer and leaning against a pole, eyes paying close attention to the proceedings despite the drunken glaze over them. Their eyes met; Nils gave a nod and a thumbs-up to the music, and the guy threw a fist up and let out a drunken roar that was barely heard over the cacophony despite its volume.
The performer was a slight, plainly dressed Asian man, ensconced in a fortress of delay pedals, synthesizers, a looping machine, a mic, and what looked like a small engine...?
During a quieter part of the set, Nils moved away from Gilbert’s incessant elbowing and toward the punkish guy and nodded to the performer. “This is great,” he whispered. “Do you know his name?”
“Fuck yeah, it’s great. Been trying to get ‘im to play here for ages, feels like,” another swig of beer. “Don’t know ‘is name, usually keeps to ‘imself unless he’s with Ivan,” a nod in the direction of one of the biggest guys Nils had ever seen. Arthur beckoned him over, adding “His performance name is Sutatoransu, though.”
The Ivan guy came over, and Nils suddenly felt incredibly short. And skinny. Normally he considered 5’8” a perfectly acceptable height, but this guy was way over six feet. “How tall are you?!” was out of his mouth before anything else - Nils blamed his beer for the slip.
Arthur rolled his eyes while Ivan chuckled. Nils barely heard the low “Around six and a half feet” over a rumble of bass from the Asian guy.
“Anyway, Ivan, this guy, er - “
“Nils,” he supplied.
“I’m Arthur by the way -” a tip of the head, “this guy Nils was asking about your pal, wasshis name again?”
“Kiku.”
“Yeah, him.”
Ivan fixed Nils with an intense stare. “I’ve seen you around a lot. With that loud guy,” he pointed over to Gilbert.
Nils resisted the urge to facepalm but let out a frustrated sigh anyway. He was saved from having to reply by an elbow to the ribs from Arthur (another one of these guys?! crossed his mind).
“This is my favorite part,” Arthur hissed.
The performer - Kiku, Nils amended - unsheathed what looked like a real, legitimate samurai sword, yanked the mic down to the running motor, and proceeded to grind the sword into the whole mess. A horrendous shrieking was soon amplified, looped, and distorted; it was a truly terrible sound that bounced off of the empty walls, concrete floors, and into one’s chest.
The three of them watched and shivered, enraptured.
---
Afterward Elizabeta and Kiku were going through her camera, looking at pictures of the show and chattering on in the way that suggested they had known each other a while.
Ludwig walked up and greeted Eliza softly. She smiled at him brightly and introduced her two friends to one another. All three debated the merits of digital SLR’s for a bit and bonded over sharing the secret of not caring that Polaroids no longer existed: Eliza thought them wasteful, Ludwig frivolous and expensive, and Kiku simply liked digital in any format better.
“Hey, guys, Tina’s calling me - catch ya later - “ and she left the two of them to themselves.
They stood there a moment before Ludwig said “You know, the museum is having a special exhibition of black-and-white architectural photographs.”
“I had heard of this,” Kiku politely replied.
“Well, I’m in the architecture program at the University, and since you’re interested in photography,” he paused, not sure how to go on, and Kiku shifted a little, “er, would you want to attend with me?”
Kiku smiled softly. “That sounds okay.”
---
“Whoa, it’s weird to see girls at noise stuff like this!”
Natalia looked up from her discussion with Eirik and Tina about tonight’s show. A really pale guy in all black was addressing her.
“Excuse me?!” Tina crossed her arms and scowled defiantly at him. “What do you think I am, Gil?”
“Heh, I mean...” he gestured around the room. “There are only three girls here. And I dunno if Eliza counts.”
“Eliza! Get over here!” she called. “We’ve got a chauvinist pig to stuff.”
“Anyway, I’m Gilbert,” he said to Natalia, and flashed a roughish smile. “And you are?”