fandomhighdorms | Behind the Dorms, Sunday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Behind the Dorms, Sunday Afternoon

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, lifted his guitar and took a pleased look around at his surroundings. The stage was set. The band was ready (even if they were all nameless, faceless individuals. The focus wasn't on them, here.)

No, no, the focus was on Jonothon, his hair perfect, his face perfect, his chest? Dare I say it? Perfect, as if sculpted by the hand of God himself. It would have been a shame to put a shirt on it, in spite of the time of year. And anyhow, this particular corner of the island was unseasonably warm. It would be a shame to not take advantage of the sunny sky, the green of the grass and the leaves in the trees, the warmth the day had to offer... and other types of heat, at that. Perfect chests were for showing off, and Jonothon would like to encourage all of his audience to partake in that very same mindset.

But all of that hardly mattered. What really mattered, here, was that there was to be a concert today. And, perhaps afterwards, Jonothon would let his most avid admirers backstage for a personal tour.

[Open! So very, very open.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Find a place to sit! In a chair, on the grass, whatever. Continuity is for wimps, here.

Wherein Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, sings.

It is the stuff of which dreams are made of. Dark and sweet and heavenly and hellish. You know. That type.

Because these rock concert things always end on a lovely note backstage. Come on back. Bring a friend. Bring two friends. Bring all your friends and your evil twin! Try to kidnap the rock star!

... Whatever it is you do backstage at these things.

Because this weekend is too much fun for me to risk ending the world.

Once again, I have no particular plans for Jono, so if you want to throw something at him completely and entirely out of the blue? I will so roll with it.

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba had many, many gorgeous songs to sing.

Songs about love, songs about hate. Songs about life and light and darkness and his beautiful chest and about the things that one does on Thursday afternoons with groupies once they recover from their horrible cases of amnesia and come running back to one with open arms.

Beautiful, beautiful songs.

After all of those very lovely, mostly handwavey songs about love and life and so on were through, Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, opened his mouth, and out came...

A cover song.

That... wasn't right. It was nine minutes long, and a cover of some Iron Maiden tune. And, until the entire thing was complete, Jonothon couldn't stop.

It would seem, alas, that our beloved, beautiful rock star... Had contracted the horrible, terrible, career-shattering disease... The Legacy Virus. Which had destroyed careers for all musicians who had contracted it with the exception of very popular Iron Maiden cover bands since it was first diagnosed.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.

Edited 2009-12-06 15:51 (UTC)

Leda had been an avid fan of Starsomore ever since she ~~laid eyes on him~~ first heard his music. Of course she would be there.

Beka hadn't meant to run into anyone from her past, but the music was still familiar. Beka stood off to the edge of the audience, watching music that once had moved her. Not now. A whole day later, it did nothing to her and that was how it should be.

"I see time hasn't changed you, Jonothon Evan Starsmore," Beka spoke, her voice had a smokey texture to it. Not that she smoked, but when there was need for drama, it changed out of itself.

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, glanced up at the sound of a voice that was almost familiar, somehow.

For most people, it might have taken some work to recognize the face of the woman who had stood before him. For Jonothon, who wielded Mysterious Powers of Which he Never Spoke, recognition was immediate, and he held a hand toward her.

"Time will find me to be a difficult individual to change, love," he breathed, his own voice deep and throaty and, perhaps, a little shaken at the revelation that he had contracted such a horrible disease. "I see that I cannot say the same for you, though you remain ever the vision of beauty that I remember you as," from yesterday, "you appear to have..."

Dramatic pause.

"... Changed, somehow."

She didn't reach for his hand and even if she had, he wouldn't have found any softness in the touch. She didn't do softness anymore.

"I'm no one's love," she said, tilting her chin up as she met his eyes. Her ghost eyes were truly haunted now, the warmth that had once been in them for him had long since cooled down. "I found change to be inevitable. Even your music doesn't sound to me like it used to."

He was as perfect as ever, but no! Jean couldn't give into these urges again! it was bad enough with Bobby. And George. And Kyle. And Alex. And that guy who sold hotdogs in the park.

But not now!

"Jonothon."

"Change might be inevitable, but there is no reason why it must be the herald to loneliness," Jonothon replied, his expression broken... No. Shattered. "And you seem lonely, Beka. You seem so very... very lonely."

"Jean."

Beautiful, beautiful Jean, who filled his dreams and his thoughts and, dare he say it, his bed on those cold, cold Wednesday evenings, between his appointments with Claude and his Alcoholics Anonymous Support Group meetings... Or was it Monday evenings, between his weekly Clan Akkaba staff meetings and his appointments with Florence?

No matter! It was Jean, and only Jean, who could possibly understand his pain, and he found himself moving forward, his arms open, looking to pull her into his warm, heavenly embrace.

She had been, but it mattered very little. Emotions were a distraction that she didn't need.

"And you think I'll be less if I were to roll in bed with you between your appointments with Cedric and Hilda?" she sneered.

"I can pencil you in between Mitch and Eli, if you prefer," Jonothon offered, his voice full to the brim with hope.

"I can be flexible."

Very flexible, did she remember?

Jean could hardly help but through herself at those strong arms, that perfect chest and that biteable jawline. It wasn't fair to tease her so, fate.

"Jonothon--I--I'm dying."

"Oh, cruel fate! Say it is not so!" Jonothon held her close, so very close, and shut his beautiful eyes and breathed in the smell of her beautiful hair, and he was very sad, indeed. "The universe is doubly cruel, dear, sweet Jean! For I myself have begun to show signs of the dreaded Legacy Virus, myself, and fear I shall be dead within the week."

Not because of the virus, of course, but because of raging fans who had paid ridiculous money to see a Starsmore concert, and were going to have to settle for nine minutes and eighteen seconds of an Iron Maiden cover song, instead.

Starsmore fans were terrifying.

"You really haven't changed," she realized and she drew in a breath. "I pity you. We all heard the end of your concert, do you think Mitch and Eli will keep their appointments when your sales go down?"

Jonothon drew in a sharp breath as though he'd been slapped, and he put a fist to his mouth and bit one knuckle in worry.

"There is always my inheritance," he attempted, though he realized that all was truly lost. "And the Clan Akkaba will always support me. They look after their own."

"Will they now?" she asked. "Do you really believe that? Your eyes, they tell it all. You don't. You know better than that."

For an instant there was sorrow in her features, but it died as quickly as it had come. She was far beyond sympathy. "Only change can save you, Jonothon Evan Starsmore, but I doubt you'll let change come to you."

Jean gasped in horror and shock. "Not Legacy!" How could god be so cruel?!

"But you're so young and virile and--" She was zoning out on those rippling muscles now. "--How?!"

"Change? I cannot change! I will not!" Jonothon was yelling now. He always sounded strangely American when he yelled. He blamed it on all of the business trips that he'd taken to Albuquerque with his father in his youth, before he had inherited Akkaba after that tragic dolphin-feeding accident that one fateful day in June...

"And how would you have me change, Beka? As you have? To grow to be cold and distance and dare I say it... Dead inside?"

"I suppose," Jonothon said, his tone solemn, as he lifted a hand to stroke at a stray lock of her hair, "it must have been that flesh-eating bacteria awareness benefit concert in Africa, last month. Legacy spreads the same way as Malaria, after all."

Through the terrible bite of radioactive pygmy meerkats. He had been certain that he'd worn repellent, but apparently it had failed him.

"And you? You, oh beautiful Jean! How could fate have been so cruel as to decide to sweep in and steal you away, so young? So... beautiful?"

Edited 2009-12-06 16:57 (UTC)

"The--brain cancer." From the days of her youth. When her and Jonothon were just children. Oh, how they laughed and played!

The joy they once had...

THE JOY.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 5

Behind the Dorms, Sunday Afternoon

Arrive! Mingle!

The Concert!

Afterwards/Backstage!

OOC

The First Half!

The End!

Re: Arrive! Mingle!

Re: The First Half!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!