Festival Day

Posted on Sun May 19th, 2024 @ 10:47 by Alastair Temple & Liana Zhao

Chapter: Winter's Crest Festival
Timeline: friday the 18th of December, 1992
2514 words - 5 OF Standard Post Measure

Alastair was proud of his kids. 'His' kids. It still hadn't fully sunk in, yet. Did he have a right to call them that? Every teacher struggled with that question, he figured, setting the whole idea aside for now. Still, they had performed admirably. Their production of 'do you hear the people sing' went off - ... mostly flawless. Some of the chorus singers weren't quite in tune or missed their timing mark by half a second, he was sure that some had sang the wrong lyrics at some points, but overall such minor mistakes were barely noticeable in the greater harmonies. The soloists though had done an amazing job. Overall, he was very pleased. Especially since the performance went off without incident, despite concerns of disruption.

Now though he cast his mind to the immediate future. This was it, the first time performing for an actual audience in well over two years. The familiar feeling of excitement tempered with nervousness came over him, as he gripped his guitar. He closed his eyes for a moment and heaved a deep breath before slowly exhaling and opening his eyes again, his little ritual of grounding himself before stepping on stage. The audience had no idea what was going to happen. Most didn't even know that another musical performance was about to begin, as they were just milling about the other areas of the festival

Alastair cast a glance aside at Liana, and he couldn't help but smile, seeing her standing there with her violin. "You ready for this?" he asked.

There had been a point earlier in the day during the last-minute preparations where Liana had been left with no headspace for nerves or anxiousness. Having clocked a record amount of times up and down flights of stairs, she almost would have said she hadn't even had a lot of time left for anticipation, except for the obvious fact that all her haste was being motivated by the upcoming events. Once the gates had opened and the outside had started to pile into the grounds, she had fluttered for a while trying to be useful until eventually gravitating to the performance area, where she was likely to spend most of the rest of the night. It had been only then, amidst the chaos of an ensemble of teenagers trying to prepare themselves for the stage, that the first flutters had started.

Now it felt as if an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies had been let loose in her stomach.

Nervous energy, coupled with the more-than-adequate lighting being managed by Cameron in the booth high up, provided warmth enough that her exposed shoulders weren't covered with goosebumps. It was an elegant yet simple gown of midnight blue, selected because it was really the only one she'd brought with her that fit the circumstance. Wearing her hair pinned up added an exposure point across the back of her neck but Liana wasn't bothered by the cold as much as she was contemplating how very large the stage seemed, almost as if the distance from wing to where her spotlight would be had somehow elongated. She glanced across as Alastair spoke and blinked at him as she processed the question before her features softened to a smile and she nodded. "As I'll ever be."

"Good. This'll be fun," Al winked, before jogging up the stage, holding his guitar high like he was victorious. He made an entrance, for sure, the tall man dressed in black pants over heavy boots, with a black vest over a maroon button-up shirt, topped by a gothic black jacket, with several silver chains, zippers and buckles. It looked completely out of place next to a classy violin wielding lady in equally classy dress, but then, it matched the energy of 'metal guitarist' perfectly.

"Are you all ready!" Al shouted, drawing the attention of the crowd, thus distracted from their own musings, turning their attention to the stage. And with one more glance at Liana to make sure she was good to go, he readied his guitar and started playing the familiar, practiced, aggressive opening staccato of Presto in G minor, the third act of Summer, from Vivaldi's four seasons.

Matching his energy wasn't easy, not through lack of desire so much as choice of footwear. Alastair drew attention enough to give Liana time to cross the space without incident, however, and his enthusiasm was enough to provoke a slight chuckle that went a long way towards securing a performer's mentality. She wasn't scared of the stage, had never really shied away from playing for an audience, and even though this particular group of people came with the potential for criticism and preconceived ideas, the music maintained its integrity and that's all that mattered. The violinist found her way to her mark and took the briefest moment to look out across the crowd before closing her eyes, bowing her head and allowing the first bar or two to establish the sense of curiosity piqued by an unexpected instrument recounting a familiar refrain.

Then, with the elegance of a classically-trained performer, she lifted her instrument into place and held pose for a few seconds before leaning into her response. At that point, the audience disappeared and, if asked to recall later, Liana wouldn't even have been able to say whether or not her eyes were open. They were not.

It was a contrast equal to every other contrast in their lives. Liana the classy, elegant, soft spoken, thoughtful lady who enjoyed observing a room from the back, who preferred quiet, introspective one-on-one talks. And Alastair, the brash, boisterous rockstar who had to keep himself from making the stage his own, to allow his musical partner-in-crime equal spotlight as that he himself took. Their instruments had the same contrast - the clear, clean tones of the violin, resonant and harmonious, versus the thunderous roar of the guitar, with its multitude of over- and undertones. Beauty and the beast, indeed.

The two alternated lead and backing, giving each other the chance to shine, as they had practiced. The melodious, passionate arpeggios on the violin over the staccato chugs of the guitar, and vice versa. Right up until the lights and sound suddenly cut out entirely, followed by a piercing but thankfully ever so brief feedback beep, a click, and the chant of "Doooown with mutants! Doooown with mutants! Doooown with mutants!" as sung, in low fidelity - obviously from a recording - by a small chorus of adolescent and young adult voices.

It was the screaming from the wing immediate to her right that caught Liana off-guard first. With stage lights eliminated, it plunged the backstage into unexpected darkness and so she couldn't exactly blame the handful of students who'd hung back to view the performance from that angle for their reaction, but in the confusion it left the counsellor uncertain of how best to respond. In that split second, the potential threat was right behind her, encroaching from the darkness, and she had stopped mid-bow stroke to snap her head towards the sound of distress with the expectation that something would emerge before she could move. It made the cacophony from the back of the audience completely disorienting, redirecting her attention in a way that left it divided between a threat she wasn't willing to dismiss entirely and a brand new one. Violin lowered, the brunette swung her attention back and forth between the pitch black of the off-stage area and the now-raucous rendition of a poorly-rehearsed football chant.

Al was equally surprised at the sudden loss of power and the hooligan chant. Though he had been less in 'the zone' than Liana had been - or, more accurately, less turned inwards and more enjoying the energy from the audience than she had been - he spent a moment confused as well, trying to figure out what was going on. Guitar still in hand he turned around to dash backstage, where he knew the main control panel was. Once there he noticed a cheap tape deck on batteries hooked in to the audio system, playing. He didn't take the time to look for a stop button or power switch, instead giving the tape deck a kick while he reached over to power down the mixing board, cutting the audio.

It wasn't exactly silent, not with the amount of concern being expressed at various decibels from all angles, but the reduction in amplified sound left a void that seemed to stop people in their tracks. Speculation spread as a murmur, whilst a blur of movement that darted from the lighting box down the stairs to ground level, to the front of the stage and then abruptly back up to the controls in a matter of seconds resulted in the bar of lights overhead returning on half-illumination. It was enough to light the stage again, and even without a spotlight Liana felt exposed and somewhat obligated to try and control the situation. Her eyes flicked upwards again, noticing an exchange between Cameron and the local mechanic whose name currently eluded Liana. Whatever was said, it was the woman who stepped back into the box to bring the lights up to full strength whilst a fresh blur of motion indicated the speedster had taken leave for reasons Liana could only guess at. She suspected he was alerting the security Claire had brought in to guard the perimeter though having caught the grim look on his face before he accelerated, it was quite possible he'd skip that step entirely and hunt down the riff raff himself.

Glancing across to where Alastair had likewise disappeared for a brief moment, Liana let out a long exhalation and stepped up to a freshly restored microphone with full acceptance of the need for someone to redirect attention.

"I apologise for the untimely interruption. It would appear we still have some way to go in alleviating the concerns of some of our neighbours but I would like to take this opportunity to echo our Headmistress' opening address by thanking each and every one of you for giving us an opportunity to focus on our similarities rather than our differences." Liana glanced across as Alastair reappeared on the stage. "Since I think we have managed to restore things, this seems like a perfect opportunity to demonstrate a willingness to keep moving forward." Her features softened to a broad smile and, as much as Alastair had a clear and obvious talent for energising a crowd, it was instantly noticeable that Liana's talents lay more in placating one. "Perhaps this time won't be met with quite so much criticism." She stepped back, eyeing her musical partner as she did so. "Shall we tempt fate, Mr. Temple?"

Al rejoined Liana on the stage, guitar still in hand. A slight sheepish grin at the audience as he waved the 'everything is fine' symbol. "I'm really sorry about that, folks," he offered. "It seems that respect and cooperation is still something that needs to be worked on. Which is why we're throwing this festival to begin with. I thank you all for your patience and understanding," his rich baritone rumbled, elevated a bit to cover the area. He considered Liana's proposal for a moment, setting down his electric guitar - as they had no audio amplification at the moment - and picking up an acoustic. He strummed it and picked at the strings for a moment, checking its tuning, before giving her a nod. "Presto, from the top? You lead?" As he readied his guitar.

A warmth of amusement at his additional two-cents translated as a shared look, the twitch of a smile and then an overtly gracious dip of the violinist's head as she stepped over several chords to approach his side of the stage. It wasn't certain that the spotlights were even functional but, with only one operator, trying to cover two focal points just wasn't going to be possible. At this distance, it was far more reminiscent of their practise, which added a sense of familiarity and comfort that Liana honestly felt a little strange sharing with an audience, though she wouldn't have gone as far as to call it objectionable. She watched as he reclaimed his spot, reached out with her bow to a smattering of laughter to gently hold a flopped curl away from Alastair's eyes as he repositioned himself, and then lifted her instrument back into place for their second attempt. This time, as her bow-strokes swung swiftly through the opening notes, Liana kept her eyes open.

A more intimate and small performance, simply by changing from an electric to an acoustic guitar on account of there no longer being amplification and mixing, but Al still rose to the challenge. No more enthusiastic, active rock star, but now a performance more in line with the classy elegance of his partner on the stage. Letting her take the lead and the limelight, simply supporting, as the two played. The audience calmed down as they did, the music and the harmony dispelling much of the consternation and fear that had felt prior. Some older members of the crowd closed their eyes, simply enjoying music they were familiar with, that they knew from recordings of orchestras, younger people appreciating the push and pull of the melodies.

But eventually the performance came to an end. It was not a long piece, nor was it meant to be - after all, it was mostly just a vanity performance staged by Al, dragging Li into it, as neither was a student - and this festival was meant to be a showcase of student creativity and presentation.. Now though the piece finished, Al let the last note slowly fade as he lowered his guitar and smiled out at the crowd.

Even as she bowed in response to the outpouring of appreciation, Liana could feel the difference in the energy by comparison to other audiences she'd played for. It was mostly the chaotic nature of clashing sentiment, the exuberance of those quite demonstrative in their support and the simmering politeness of those who had been privately just a little amused by the interruption. As she glanced out, the brunette had figured it might be obvious who was who but there were too many faces and too many nuanced expressions, which only invited the slow build of anxiety that stemmed from not being able to anticipate ongoing threat. If she was feeling it, then the students hovering backstage for their opportunity to come and be exposed to the same potential certainly were.

Still holding her bow, she reached out to graze Alastair's hand with her index finger and nodded to indicate which side of the stage she was exiting to.

"It's okay," Liana reassured the huddle of upcoming performers the moment she stepped into the dimly lit wing, now mostly reliant on flashlights, one of which had been rigged up to hang from the ceiling. "We're fine, nothing came of it. Mr. Johnston is already dealing with it."