Roar like thunder

Looking to show people what you got and want to make a big name for yourself in the artsy industry? Starberry Productions is the right place for all you talented people out there!

Starberry Production is located just a couple of blocks away from the Spirale Dome in Golden Ward.

We accept talent of any kind!

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Form || Staff || Position

Now, she's focused on fixing his Rubik'sube. She cleans it well, then proceeds to carefully paint the small enough piece for the Cube in the correct shade.

"I bet it wasn't like this. Bet the Stars took a piece," She says with a roll of her eyes. "If you have a belonging with you, they'll either turn it into a toy, wood, or something, or they give you some half-baked something." They had humor; she'll give them that.

Now, she carefully slides the piece in until---DONE.

Letting Ismael solo the beginning of the chorus, Till takes her lead and shoots two of the closest monsters dead before joining her again in singing.

“Tear me to pieces, skin to bone. Hello, welcome home.”

Hearing their voices meld together properly for the first time in song fills Till with euphoria. Fire ignites behind his eyes and in his movements as he drops his gun to the ground to focus on his guitar, tearing his way through the chords.

“Walking out of time, Looking for a better place. Something's on my mind, Always in my head space…”

Till gives a devilish smirk to the phantom with red eyes across the stage, grinning at his fears with manic glee and a devil-may-care attitude.

His own demons held at bay, Till notices Ismael is struggling with the singing parts and struts towards her to plant his own microphone stand beside her, reminding her she’s not alone. ‘Together’, she had said.

In his element, Till confidently meets her eyes, boldly singing into the mic while facing her—practically screaming his emotions into the song.

Adrenaline runs thick in her veins, pumping blood to keep her MOVING. Ismael meets Till's own eyes. Her hands tighten around the mic that she now holds in both her hands. Her bow resting at her back, strap over her shoulder.

He sings the second verse with all his might, and she feels the tears in her eyes stinging a bit. She holds those tears back, and she joins in.

She vocals as his backup and then WHOO, to the sound of the beat, as if to get rid of that negative energy. Till was working hard. She had to keep up with him. She wouldn't have him doing all the work alone. Together. They were in this together. And though

Isn't it lovely, all alone?

Heart made of glass, mind of stone.

Tear me to pieces, skin and bone

Hello...Welcome home."

Just when they thought they'd get swarmed over, the monsters were defeated, leaving the guards, the owls, and the two singers as the only ones standing. Iyana and Yaira fly toward the two to check in and make sure they are unharmed.

It was over, it seemed.

He looks mildly surprised when Ismael picks up her weapons before his expression hardens into one of acceptance. The world can be a cruel place after all, no matter which one you end up in, and it only makes sense that another powerless human would find a way to protect themself. He removes his own weapon from his shoulder harness and checks to make sure the pistol is fully loaded.

“I’ll make sure they don’t get too close t’ you either. ‘Together’, remember?” Till nods seriously to Ismael and then each of the owls in turn. “Ladies. I’ll be countin’ on ya.”

Shouldering his guitar for now so he can keep his pistol in hand, Till leads them onto the stage. Ismael seems even more reluctant than he is to be here, so Till takes it upon himself to start singing first this time as soon as he reaches his microphone stand.

“Thought I found a way, Thought I found a way out. But you never go away, So I guess I gotta stay now.”

All of the monsters in the area whip their heads around at the sound of Till’s somber voice, but Till can’t tear his eyes away from the burning ones staring at him from across the stage—eyes he knows well at this point that only he can see.

She has to focus on him.

They have to get out of here alive.

Never again....n-never again am I going to let that happen to me. I won't die again. Never again....

Those were her promises to herself. That meant getting out of here ALIVE with Till, too.

She misses some of the singing she was supposed to do, but Till handles the part just fine without her backup singing.

When he finishes

She picks up the chorus:

Isn't it lovely, all alone? Heart made of glass, my mind of stone. Tear me to pieces, skin to bone. Hello, welcome home...

She reaches for her weapon this time, easily adjusting her bow in line, easily pulling that arrow back without any effort, and SWOOSH!

The arrow in high speed, penetrates through one of the monster's chests that managed to get on stage.

"It's alright, I'm here now." He gently rubbed her back with his hands; small circles. This had happened before. He'd disappeared before.

They couldn't control it. He couldn't; and that was one of the most terrifying things about this world.

"Sal..." She sniffles, finally looking up at him with tearful eyes. This time, she's looking for something. Last time he was back, he had been a little different. Sadder. Something had happened. Something awful. They hadn't had the chance to talk about it, really.

Sal feels bad. Sick to his stomach even. It's always like this. Like waking up from a half-remembered dream until everything snaps back into place. Then he's in reality again; or some form of it anyway.

Thoughts and feelings come back automatically...yet slowly, like a dripping faucet while he takes the cab to the personal housing area. He's wondering how long it's been. Some say none of this world is real, but the people that live here, they are real enough. It feels real, he can feel it.

So that's enough.

The emotions come rushing back as soon as he unlocks the door. For a moment he hesitates before he pushes the door open. He squeezes his eyes tightly and holds back tears. He may not remember how long it's been, but perhaps his body knows what he doesn't?

Ismael's voice and her embrace appears slow motion for a moment; until she touches him. Then it all snaps back into place once again.

He really IS here.

...

He hands over the Rubik's Cube promptly. "If you can, fix it." This was clearly something that interested him. It's been bothering him since he arrived- he'd never taken more than a few moments to solve one of these, and now he was unable. He'd even taken it places to try and get it fixed or replaced, to no avail.

If he says yes, she'll lead him to her home. She knew better than to lead a complete stranger to her home. What if something happened? Still, as they made way, they would have talked and introduced one another.

Shortly, she returns with the Rubik's Cube, paint, and a small enough piece for the missing spot.

"Alright. Let's see...."

"I'm not the sort of artist who works for someone," Octavo says, folding his hands on the table. "I won't be told how to do what I do. If people want to listen, they can come and listen, and if not, they can walk off somewhere else."

Ismael hums, "Well, yeah. We'd want you to express yourself through music in your own way." No one told anyone how to do things in Starberry. As long as people were safe, having fun, and being respectful?

Till forgets sometimes that most people here grew up in a very different environment than the one he did. That not everyone works so well under the cut-throat conditions Anakt students were trained to endure.

His expression softens to something more concerned than anxious, catching Ismael’s hands and holding them in his own.

“…Hey,” Till runs his calloused thumbs over Ismael’s knuckles soothingly, and tries to pretend like he can’t feel the way that they shake in his grasp. That his own hands aren’t shaking as well.

But it wasn't the thought of being on stage that scared her. Well, part of it was, but not all of it.

She swallowed thickly.

She can't afford to lag behind. Can't afford to lose and die and have Till dying either. Her life wasn't the only one in line.

She doesn't realize there are some tears in her eyes until she uses the back of her free hand to wipe at them. Damn.

Clearing her throat, she exhales. "I can do it. WE can do this. Together." She grabs hold of his hand. Fingers curling over his, "It'll be like a do-over."

She releases his hands soon after and moves. She has her belongings just at the corner, and she picks them up. Her bows and arrows.

Till breathes out a cloud of smoke before dropping his cigarette to the ground in front of the Cotes district stage, the one closest to Ismael’s house, and grinding it out with the heel of his boot. He knows he looks like hell, tired and haggard, but at least the powers that got him out of that horrible lab healed up his pre-existing injuries for him.

“…I wanna try it again.”

Helplessly, he holds up his hands in surrender before Ismael can say anything.

“I know, I know… It’s not a good idea. I’m probably not ready. I should rest. I know all that… It’s just… For once, I feel like… I’ve been given the opportunity to really help. T’ effect change at a higher level. I… all my life I’ve been wantin’ the power t’ protect myself an’ the people I love. Now that I have it… I don’t wanna let it go to waste…” Even if it hurts him.

Till looks up from the ground to meet Ismael’s eyes.

“Please.” He asks. Begs her. “Help me.”

She's....

She's.....so, so scared.

Hands tremble, but they are now hidden inside her pockets when she hears a familiar voice. When she turns to look at him, she can't help but notice how awful he looks.

Till. Has he always been a smoker?

She'd ask, but there's a time and place for that. He says he wants to help, wants to give it a go another time.

She remembers what he said back at her house when they had a meal together, like many times before.

He worked better under pressure. Under these kinds of circumstances, huh? A life or death...

She inhales and holds it for a moment and then releases. She removes her hands from her pockets and approaches him. Wipes at his eyes and cheeks.

"We have time for some warm-ups," She whispers to him. "Let's do some warm-ups."

“Yeah… Maybe… maybe I gotta figure out what their language is an’ say it to ‘em like that… Or maybe the message itself wasn’t so clear…” Till begins to mutter distractedly to himself as he picks up his fork and pushes the food around his plate with the intention to actually eat it this time. He looks back up at Ismael.

“I’ve already asked so much of you, but… would you mind helpin’ me? I was thinkin’… There’s a recording booth at Starberry, right? I know I’m not one of your employees, but c-could I use it s-sometime? I was thinkin’ it might be an easier step than, y’know, actually getting on stage.”

Till’s face flushes redder, and he starts wringing his hands together nervously.

“A-and… if ya still wanted to… W-what I mean is… I’d still really like to… s-sing with you s-sometime…? An’… I dunno… maybe we could do it th-there? An’ we could k-keep the recordin’… if it’s any g-good…? I-I mean… I know it w-would be good… Wh-what with your voice an’ everything… An’ I’m not b-bad either—”

"You know, your voice really meshes well with mine, and it probably works well for a lot of singing types, too." He can probably do it all. She wants to see just HOW capable Till is.

He's definitely not dressed for the water, in a waistcoat, long-sleeved dress shirt and slacks.

“If you say so, I’m inclined t’ believe ya. I guess… Aurelius and I might’ve started off on the wrong foot... I think maybe I don’t always make the best first impression? A-an’ I know I can be kinda a… a lot. I’m not sure everyone always knows what t’ make of me…” Till chews his lip, thoughts once again drifting back to the flower crown crushed under Ivan’s foot. Maybe that was Till’s fault as well? Did he do something that could have made a bad first impression? Did he express himself incorrectly? It happened too long ago for him to remember now—all he can recall is the hurt that he felt.

“And… I think I make snap decisions, o-or judgements maybe, that I hold onto… It’s just… always been hard for me t’ let go of any of my feelings…”

He falls silent. Thinking about the future always made his heart beat faster. In the past, Till had avoided thinking about what the future might hold for him whenever possible, losing himself in his own inner world.

But that type of avoidance had also led to some of his biggest regrets.

“I appreciate you sayin’ that, but… I can’t help this feelin' like… like the clock is ticking down for me. Maybe it’s the way I was raised, knowing there was a time limit on my lifespan, or maybe it’s the things I didn’t get t’ do, but… I just have this oppressive feeling… l-like I only have a finite amount of time left to do something…"

Life is short, she thinks to herself. Wherever you were, life was short. It definitely didn't matter if you were to be revived from dying. It still was short. Till, back home didn't only have to worry about his natural lifespan, probably. He also had to worry about his actual life. Would today be the last?

Those are probably questions asked.

She chews on the inside of her cheeks. She wants to help him navigate the world as best she can. Wants to help him convey his emotions so that those closest to him will know how he feels.

"You're an artist, a musician, and you have a heart of gold. You feel everything." Use that, she says through gestures.