Roadtrip 4

Posted on Thu May 28th, 2026 @ 12:31 by Liana Zhao & Alastair Temple

Chapter: Gobsmacked
Location: Karlsruhe, Germany
4596 words - 9.2 OF Standard Post Measure

As far as most of the town's original architecture went, the community arts centre wasn't much to rave about. A modern structure that didn't quite fit the rustic landscape surrounding it, and yet was somehow just old enough to be tired and lacking in any kind of contemporary appeal. From the outside, it was an unimpressive brick box, surrounded by an afterthought of rosebushes and several other scraggy bushes desperately in need of trimming. The interior wasn't much better; the 70s had been a wild time for floor coverings, it was difficult to see where the geometric designs finished and the coffee stains started. Timber accents had no-doubt seemed a good idea at the time and there might even have been moment where the overly-yellow lighting had added a warmth to the already earth-toned decor, but not anymore. As far as modern sensibilities went, the foyer was suffocating in the wrong kind of nostalgia and suffering from a distinct lack of priority in regards to necessary funding for ongoing maintenance. The space was functional, it just didn't do a damn thing to inspire much more than a migraine.

Still, whilst its polish was decidedly lacking, its bones were still solid enough. A viable space allocated to any number of rotational social groups, the kind that didn't need anything too fancy and wouldn't have had the membership to compete for the flashier spaces in any case. Upstairs, the rooms were smaller, more intimate, better suited to the hobby-groups that thrived in classroom-esque spaces. Downstairs, however, beyond the reach of natural light as the building sank beneath the soil to obliterate the opportunity for any windows, was a wide open performance area with just enough attention shared between the local youth orchestra, a small community theatre group and a bunch of old farts pretending to be rock stars to make proper use of the decent acoustics. Community-funded working bees over the years had kept the electrical output viable, allowing for not only the safe and persistent use of multiple amplifiers but also a row of theatre lights angled at the small stage. It was a rehearsal space more than anything else, hardly big enough for any kind of decent audience, but it was enough.

Liana could never decide if she loved or hated the place.

A point against it was always how cold it was. On the plus side, it was in walking distance of the gasthaus, which had proven a better compromise than trying to cram into one car while her father carried half the equipment the group would need strewn across his back seat. Armed with only their own instruments, the walk had been an opportunity to gather their wits and had given Liana the first real opportunity to speak without worrying that her father would start fretting.

"Just remember, we don't have to stay long."

"You don't like this place?" True, it wasn't a nice space to hang out in, that much was certain. But, to Al, it was a comfortable space. It was a nostalgic space. This was exactly like the kind of place, a seedy old cultural center, where Somnium Tenebris had their first gigs. Real gigs, after outgroing local bars. Carpet worn down with the traffic of tens of thousands over decades, cold fluoresent lighting with its nearly headache-inducing flicker, plants barely clinging to life in an existence where they were somewhat less cared for than they truly deserved, it all added up to a particular ambience.

The tall man carried his instruments with confidence, and a growing smile on his features. His guitar case in one hand, the other occupied with a briefcase with pedals, cables and binders of paperwork - the sheet music for some of the songs he'd been working on for Temple of Zhao. They were - mostly complete. Truth be told he should probably go over the bass and drum parts at least once or twice more to add detail and interest to them. One might argue the keyboard part could do with some refining too, come to think of it. But, for the rest, this was enough to play a reasonable semblance of what he had in his mind when he wrote these parts.

That was for later though. First they were just going to jam, or so the plan was. Play some pop songs, classic rock songs, things like that - get a feel of each other. Karl on bass - though he was a guitar player at heart, bass was similar enough that anyone who could play guitar to a decent level could play bass too. Li on violin. Al on guitar. Leonie on drums. That left the guest Maximillian, 'Max' to friends - Karl's friend and good mate - to fill in on keys. To Max's credit, despite recognizing Al for who he was, he had left the man enough space without crowding him.

"It's not that," Liana replied quietly as she watched the three regulars shift chairs around and run all the leads to set up the necessary sound systems. Leonie, true to form, was in charge of her own drum kit, primarily because she wouldn't let anyone else touch it. Liana smiled fondly and willed herself to release some of the tension sitting across her shoulders. Her father's friends were a lovely bunch, mostly well-meaning but with the kind of creative sensibilities that could foster wild tangents if enough of them started bouncing off each other. The fact that they were only dealing with Max tonight helped; of the group, he was probably the most seasoned professional and carried himself with arguably less airs and graces than a few others who had less cause to self-congratulate. "I was more meaning if you felt like you'd hit capacity, there's no time limit on how long we stay."

Because it wasn't really about her. Liana had played in this space before, had been a spectator in this space before, had simply spent time here with the group and had grown comfortable enough that she didn't really experience performance anxiety anymore. Alastair, on the other hand, was still moving through the layers of healing that came from trying to pick back up after tremendous loss. Neither of them could really predict what playing with a group would feel like, even if he had been making music and sharing it again for a good while. Grief had a way of showing up just when you thought you'd got a handle on it.

"I appreciate that, a lot," Al smiled warmly, leaning in close to give Liana a kiss on her cheek. Some might be embarassed to engage in such overt displays of affection - especially in the presence of strangers - but, in all fairness, Alastair had found long ago that life became much nicer and happier when he stopped caring about social norms. After all, what were social norms but artifical constructs, mostly intended for the comfort of others? Tradition dicated such and such, but what was tradition but peer pressure from people long gone? Sure, there were limits and boundaries of course, but he wasn't going to stop being himself or doing what gave him small moments of joy just because others might see. Case in point; his chosen outfits that looked like they belonged in victorian times rather than the modern, progressive year of our lord 1993. Instinct almost caused him to add 'but I'm fine', although he stopped himself, feeling almost like that addition diminished her thoughtfulness.

He was fine though. Part of him had missed this. Setting up for a jam session, just him and the rest of the band, no drum tech or guitar tech or light tech or roadies of any kind. And as he unpacked his guitar he started to realise just how much he had needed this.

There was never a lot of time for quiet contemplation when Leonie had been unleashed with drumsticks in hand. It was of little surprise that the woman's tenacity for self-expression spilled over to her chosen instrument, barely arranged to exact specifications before the scatter of an experimental fill put the room's accoustic dynamics to the test. It became the catalyst for more noise, the rhythmic pulse of a bass guitar testing the waters whilst a sudden blare of electronic fanfare required a volume adjustment lest the keyboard drown out the entire show. As the first throb of music stirred, lacking cohension for the time being as tuning and amplification adjustments took priority, it was Liana's turn to feel a little out of place. At Alastair's behest, she had brought the electric violin with her, which made a lot more sense than trying to road trip via ferry with a very expensive classical instrument that was currently in dire need of restringing anyway. This at least left her with the right genre of input available but didn't do much for making it obvious just where she would fit into this emerging semi-circle of anticipation.

She did, after all, prefer to play standing.

"Have you all decided what we're starting with?," she asked, as a means of gauging what would be expected of her before she tried to plot out the best vantage. It was also, it had to be said, an opportunity for mild teasing, since she was very aware her father and boyfriend had plotted the evening out somewhat even if she hadn't been actually privy to the arrangements.

Karl jumped in on the question of what to play, electing to start with the bass riff for I was made for loving you, the classic rock song by KISS. Leonie smiled and jumped in easily, adding the simple beat underneath. Max layered a simple chord over the percussive foundation; not present in the original song but easily implemented. Alastair gave a laugh and played the guitar part, giving Liana an encouraging nod to play the vocal melody on her violin if she knew it well enough. After that some AC/DC with an old favorite, Thunderstruck, in which Alastair let Liana take the lead ostinato melody while he took care of the vocals - surprising Max who didn't know Alastair could sing to a pretty reasonable standard.

And so the evening went. Some times it was a bit awkward figuring out who played which part in whatever song they played; some times one of the group wasn't too familiar with it, other times someone had to make up a melodic or harmonic part that wasn't in the original, the result of having more melodic instruments than a standard rock band would, with violin on top of keys - but they made due. Smiles abound, Alastair seemed to really find the groove in some of the more rock styled songs, bopping along with the music. Eventually the song selection came to The Final Countdown by Europe and Alastair slipped into full performance mode. He motioned for Liana to take care of the vocal line with her violin, and as eventually the guitar solo came around the tall man stepped forward into a power stance, closed his eyes and made his chosen weapon sing. This was what he lived for.

EVentually though she song ended, as the evening drew towards a close. But there was one more song to play. One more performance. He opened his briefcase and handed out scores. The title on the top of the first page read Desolate Flight. Liana knew the song; they'd practiced the melodic parts often enough, though this would mark the first time they would play it through entirely, with a full band. The first time she'd hear the vocals in full.

Max's expression shifted from curious to puzzled as he glanced through his part. "Alastair, is this part - Correct? Complete?" he asked, indicating parts where the keys played a simple chord, but an incomplete one, without the upper harmony. The score sheet seemed to alternate between partial and full chords.

Alastair simply smiled. "Trust the process, Max. Liana will complete the harmony in this places. It's - part of my experiment. Integrating violin into what's basically melodic doom metal."

"If you say so, you're the rockstar," Max chuckled. He knew it would be a bit of a chalenge to not instinctively complete the chords as presented, but he figured he'd do his best.

Karl and Leonie had simple parts to play. Just laying down the foundation. Part of it might have felt boring, a bit beneath the level of musicians that they were - even as hobbyists. Al would be the first to admit that he still had to give their parts a once-over, or even a twice-over, to add interest. Little runs - playing with space perhaps - for the bass and some fills and playing with halftime for the drum part. Max for his part did a perfectly fine job layering texture. But it was clear in Alastair's writing that he was a guitar player and a vocalist, rather than a drummer or a keyboardist, as even the chords were mostly 'just' functional.

No, the real interest in the music lay in the guitar and violin. Ostinatos for Li, alternating with a hint of a soaring melody, brought back down once, twice, instead of being allowed to take flight. As the song progressed the melodies she was allowed to play became more intricate.

Alastair's guitar thundered. Rhythmically, in harmony with the violin and the keys. Heavy, crushingly so. A slow-ish tempo, leading in to the atmosphere rather than technique, letting each strum of his drop-D tuned weapon resonate and linger. Vocals growled, words of despair. Words of loss. Words of loneliness, of struggle. Of longing. And as the song played, as this group of hobbyists, a teacher and a counselor played, Alastair drowned in the song.

It wasn't just a song, to him. It was a story. His story. Given words. Given rhyme. Given rhythm. Given melody. Ebs and swells, the words from his heart, the emotion on his face - to an extent that nobody in this room had ever seen before. Raw, naked emotion as he performed. Shoulders quietly trembled with the words that cut, speaking of feeling forlorn, of trying - needing - to find a place to belong, of longing for warmth and light but being lost in the cold and dark as winds carry him. This was Alastair's trauma, given words.

Eventually, feelings and emotions needed out that couldn't be given form with mere words, so he let his guitar do the speaking. A heartrending melodic solo, at the same time as Liana played hers - melodies intertwining, soaring and twirling around each other like birds in tempestuous thermals. This was Alastair throwing his heart into the storm, into the world.

This was Alastair healing.

---

Though the walk back home was colder still than the trip in, Liana had quietly insisted that it was fine when Max had started to push for dropping them home. Both Karl and Leonie had understood immediately and had sent them ahead whilst the trio locked up, both as a means of getting a headstart but to also spare them the need to explain further. It wasn't anything shameful, Liana simply preferred not to make a fuss of the fact that her motivation stemmed not from a sudden inexplicable preference for frostbitten fingers but because it was that same bitter crispness that would give Alastair the space he needed to process the evening's events. Liana had long-ago opted against retreating to a tropical location and therefore couldn't really begrudge being consistently subjected to temperatures below her tolerance. In Alastair's case, it wasn't a sacrifice she spared a second thought.

He was an ample heat-source in any case, her arm slipped through his to huddle closely as they ambled. The silence was comfortable yet loaded, a dozen different unspoken sentiments left to percolate because there genuinely wasn't any rush to move them on. They had covered over a block before Liana settled her head gently against Alastair's arm and made the smallest overture just to remind him that he wasn't alone anymore. "I'm glad we came." The syncopation of their footsteps carried on for several more beats before she added, "I think it's helped more than I thought it would."

Not just for Alastair, though Liana would have been lying if she'd said he wasn't her main priority at the moment. With all that had befallen them over the last few months, and the responsibility she had shouldered and not been entirely convinced she'd managed quite as smoothly as Claire might have, it was only after the event that the tiny little stress-fractures across her equilibrium were making themselves known. Trauma was difficult for anyone but Liana tended to watch herself carefully lest the cost be a lack of control that lead to abrupt transformation. It was the reality of living with her mutation and, if anything, she was surprised to find herself settling as quickly as she was. It seemed entirely without coincidence that the man beside her had been glued to the space for the entire time. For someone who had stubbornly shouldered the responsibility alone for so long, the realisation that she no longer had to was a little overwhelming, though not unpleasantly so.

"Mm. It has," a soft, brief smile to confirm, a hand reached over to pat hers. The syncopation of their footfalls followed a rhythm; his heavier and slower ones intermingled with her quicker, lighter ones, and part of him almost gave in to the desire to shift his pace so their footsteps followed a more musical tempo; one he could imagine a guitar riff to. For now though, music - or at least the writing of it, lived in the back of his mind. The effects of having played one of his own songs to completion for the first time occupied most of his conscious thought.

"It was a release. A catharsis. Things - ... Thoughts, emotions bottled up, that I didn't know, didn't realize were there but needed to come out - ... Did," his voice was quiet, his tone soft. She understood, of course. It was her job to. But saying it out loud, putting the thoughts into words, helped solidify it to himself as well.

And it wasn't just the trauma of his youth, or that of losing his closest friends and band-mates. It was also the whole siege saga, finding guns pointed at him on more than one occasion and even being shot. His arm was still sore from where the shot had hit. Beyond that though, it was also meeting Liana. Falling in love with her. And while that was not a trauma - far from it to say the least, it was still a big emotional development, stacking on top of untreated, unresolved big emotional events. Which meant it was still something he had to work through.

"I shouldn't really be surprised," Liana responded after a moment's contemplation. "After the divorce, spending time with Dad was always a relief. It seems harsh to say that now, with a slightly more adult understanding of the situation and what my mother was going through, but he's always been good at being...uncomplicated, unconditionally so." With a squeeze of her arm, she brought the conversation back around to her intended target. "I don't suppose it was as easy for you to find somewhere like that."

"Yeah, he really is," Al agreed. At her statement though he paused a moment, physically even, before continuing the slow walk. Slow because with his long legs he normally tended to outpace her by some margin. "I'm not sure I have such a place now. It's - ... Back home after the accident but before I came to Avalon, when I was still hiding from the world feeling sorry for myself, things were easy. But - .. Not good. Not healthy. I'm glad I got out of there. Avalon is - " Another moment's pause as he tried to find the world. "Well, it's home. But there's always something pulling at me for my attention. My energy. Uncomplicated it's not. I think the closest I can come is when I'm out flying."

As always, the silence that followed was thoughtful. Professional experience had taught Liana the value of true listening but it was also simply a facet of her personality to afford any expression of sentiment consideration based on its merits without rushing to offer false platitudes. Giving people the benefit of her full attention came naturally, the true intention came from a separation of self from the problem. It would have been easy to take Alastair's response personally, to view it as a failing on her part to provide the kind of refuge he was talking about. That made too many assumptions about her obligations in the first place, however, and was also just frankly too egotistical to entertain. It wasn't that his words didn't sting, simply that any hurt she felt was for him and had nothing to do with expecting to have fixed a lifetime of sorrow in a handful of months.

"Have you considered whether living fulltime at the castle is something you'd like to continue?," she eventually asked. It piggybacked onto musings of her own recently, though she hadn't arrived at a satisfactory solution in her head that allowed her to render the kind of assistance she wanted whilst also giving herself the space to live...well, like an adult. Being housed inside a room like a permanent lodger didn't allow for a lot of separation between work and personal life.

"As long as you're also there," The answer came immediately, without needing any time to consider it. "I could live in a small house with a garage and a bit of a studio. Some land maybe, for whatever project we come up with. The castle is - ... Well, it's the job more than the location, though the location doesn't help either. There's just always things, always people, always noise, little time to really wind down and recharge. I make do, but - " Now he took a moment to consider, to organize his thoughts and find the right words.

"The last six months or so have been a lot. From realizing I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and start to live again to selling most of my stuff, all but one of my cars and a good house and a plot of land to moving into the castle, first time ever in my life holding an actual job, to meeting you, the siege, political pressure, writing music again, getting shot, it's - ... " He paused, unsure of what to say, instead just deciding to remain silent. At least until he was done sorting the thoughts and feelings that had coalesced into a storm by now.

"When Claire and I spoke about my returning to help, it was only ever intended to be short-term." The admission wasn't necessary shocking, there were enough indicators that Liana's work extended well-beyond Avalon to make it not unreasonable to assume there might be a greater calling eventually poised to pull her back. "There were a number of things I didn't count on back when I agreed, and put my apartment on the rental market expecting to be back within six months." A gentle squeeze of his arm reassured Alastair that he featured near the top of the list of unexpected complications, though he very much stood apart as being one of the few that actually improved her situation considerably. "It doesn't feel quite so temporary anymore but I agree, living in the castle is starting to chafe just a little."

"I mean, I could see if there's a nice little home available somewhere in the area. Nice and secluded. Not too far from the castle, like maybe half an hour's drive at most. You could move in," Beat. "Which - is very presumptuous of me to offer, just assuming you are ready for such a big step and comfortable with the idea. We've only just really made it official in the grand scheme of things, and - " he trailed again, heaving a deep sight, realizing that he was just digging his own proverbial hole deeper and deeper with every word. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he was ready for that step, all things considered. But he wasn't opposed to finding out. A soft chuckle and a slight boy-ish blush. "Some times I let my heart speak where calmer minds should probably prevail. But, I guess this tells you where my heart is wanting to go."

A flush of her own was tempered by a descent into relieved laughter, mostly because Alastair had been the one to say it first, which left Liana not only free of the limbo of wondering if it was wise but also somewhat reassured her that if she was losing her mind, at least she'd have company. "When you were in the shower this morning," she confessed, "I realised how much I was going to miss being able to just ..." A huff of air saw her pause to gather the right words. "Exist without needing to be constantly aware that there might be a teenager around the next corner. And you're right, there's really not a healthy balance when you reside under the same roof as the people you work with. The more we have these moments where it doesn't like we need to seek permission just to take a walk together, the more I can see the merit in creating a little more separation."

Glancing sideways, she studied him quietly for a moment.

"I've been thinking about getting my own place. I didn't know how much to include you in that but I also didn't want to do it without some consultation. I don't want you to feel pressured, nor do I want you to feel unwelcome." Liana wrinkled her nose playfully. "Which really just amounts to one of us being brave enough to make a decision."

A natural slowing in pace brought them to an eventual stop, a shared moment of agreed hesitation because they were close to home now and yet the privacy of the moment was still important. It gave ample opportunity to turn to face each other, which allowed Liana to unwind her arm from Alastair's to slip her hands into his.

"Maybe we just don't overthink it." It was, by her standards, quite a lofty aspiration but she could at least commit to attempting it. "Claire will still need us overnight sometimes, there's always a place for us to go back to if things get too much." A faint smile softened into a moment of visible affection, an expression that was very quickly becoming something Alastair only ever saw when they were alone. "I don't think spending more time with you is something I'm going to regret."

"Heh. You might," Al joked. His eyes met hers, a gesture always accompanied by a smile, as their fingers intertwined. "So, a 'seat of our pants' type deal, then? I can live with that. Tell you what, both of us try and find a nice place that strikes our fancy, and - well, we'll go from there. No expectations, no promises. Just vibes."