Songs for a Better, More Beautiful Tomorrow

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Something about flame had always intrigued Nathaniel. To him, flame represented a sense of freedom. Once the flame rises, it tends to make its own path; blaze its own trail without deviation from the intended path. Of course, as quickly as the flame could appear, it could vanish. A man might come along and pour water over it, or someone might come and blow it out. Such is the way of society... especially in this dump... Much like the flame, Nathaniel had a way of blazing his own trails. He loved exploration; both physically and expressively. And it seemed to him that the oppressive behaviour of the boogies was nothing more than a bucket of water. All this meant, was that a larger flame was needed. He could write all the songs in the world about protest, reform, fascism, and freedom... But a song alone won't overturn anything.

Nathaniel sometimes dreamt of a better, more beautiful tomorrow. He sometimes even dreamt of when things used to be better, and beautiful. He sometimes dreamt of his mother's cooking. His mouth always watered at memories of homemade enchiladas, fried chicken, chocolate cake... even a homemade chocolate fudge milkshake. And more often than not, he would wake up from these dreams, take a deep breath, and shed a few tears. He'd write down a few poetic phrases, and go back to sleep. The next day, would ultimately bring him to where he sits now; in front of the fireplace with his own handmade Spanish style classical guitar. It had a warm, cherry stain on the body. No real shine to it, though. He favored an unfinished look. And as the chords came to him, he'd pluck a few out. And as a melody would come, he would hum it softly, hoping he could soon fit the words to the melody.

For hours, he would sit.

Today, he hoped, was the day that the silence between him and the other captives would break.

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

Macy looked over at the human by the fire. He was sorta cute, and the fact that he was musical made him even better. Music was the biggest thing in Macy's life. Well after Anne, that is, but Macy would never be able to find Anne. So she guessed music was the biggest she could get. So of course, Macy would flock around the few humans in Wonderland who had any musical talents at all. She so desperately wished she could find a trumpet so she herself could play. How sorely she missed the instrument, her baby. She missed the beautiful tones, the shrilling notes, the graceful phrases. She missed her lovely trumpet and all the beauty it could bring into such a dark world as this.

The man by the fire slowly plucked at his strings, a faint hum that must be his melody reaching her ears. Macy stood, walking silently closer to the fire, desperately needing the music that would soothe the inferno raging in her heart. She stood as close as she dared, a little closer than she really liked, and closed her eyes, letting his tune wash over her like healing waters. She hoped no one would notice her standing here, but she doubted she would be that lucky. With her rebel look, short skirt and sleeveless tank top, black boots, loosely braided hair, and defiant look, she never went anywhere without being noticed. But that was just the life of the rebel girl that Macy was.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

It's song about dreams, he decided. Nathaniel wasn't the best lyricist in the world, although there were plenty out there worse than he was. Beside him was a small composition book, with a plain grey cover save for the down-pointing arrow colored on the front. The arrow was colored with four different ink pens, in a sunburst pattern. Had to make it as pretty as he could, given that he only had black, blue, red and green to work with... Why a down arrow, no one really knew. Symbolic only to owner, one could suppose. The pages, as well, were written with those same pens, and each poem or song was given a different color. The color never really held any particular meaning from song to song. Nathaniel just didn't like writing in black ink all the time. Colored ink, especially red and green, held a sense a of freedom, whereas black and blue seemed to represent more professional encounters, such as contract signing or application filing.

As the melody came, the confidence in his fingers and hands increased, the the sound became more coherent and cohesive; less fractured then it had been previously. At first, the words came slightly more than a whisper.

"It's mornin'~ It's time to get up outta bed.
I'm dreamin'~ 'cause everything is animate.
'You're crazy~', they said to me in disbelief.
But that's where you're wrong.
It ain't me, it's the world~

It feels like~ nothin's
goin' on 'round here, no more~
It seems like all of the people
forgot to breathe today~
Well I~ say to you~
Wake up and open your eyes~"

Following that brief burst of lyrics, came more humming. A short interlude was plucked out across the strings, and Nathaniel grinned, feeling the presence of a listener behind him and to the side. He made sure to keep facing the fire as he spoke to the rebel girl. If needed he had planned an escape route which would keep his face concealed to the potential chaser.

"I suppose one of us is going to speak, right? One of us is gonna have to break this silence if we're ever going to get anything accomplished here," said Nathaniel, with his signature snide snarl, that only a brooding indie kid would possess. He hoped it didn't push away the stranger.

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

Macy looked around her, looking for who the man was speaking to before she realized it was her. She shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't wanted to talk, just to listen to his music. The song had been pretty, a nice little poem. She wondered what the man looked like, as he was keeping his face towards the fire, away from her.

"I guess, if you insist. I was happy just listening to you play. It's been so long since I have heard good music. It's impossible to describe how great it is to hear music again... I've missed it. I miss my trumpet..." Macy said sadly, looking wistfully at the flames. They leapt and roared out a dance to their own music, their own snap and crackle. It was glorious, beautiful. It was one of the beauties of nature that even the Boogies couldn't get rid of. It was like the little fire inside of Macy that drove her to the rebellious acts that she committed. She valued freedom too greatly to be taken down by the Boogies. It was the last thing that she would ever do. She'd even die before she gave up her freedom. It just wasn't in her to let go of it.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

After hearing the girl speak, Nathaniel turned his head, now sure she was a friendly. Hearing her voice sparked something within him. It sparked an internal warmth the complement the warmth of the fireplace. In turning his head, the light was just right from the fire, to make his goldenrod eyes appear to glow in the somewhat dimly lit lounge. He smiled in such a way, that he hoped she could see the warmth she had created within him. The one thing he needed most right now was some form of companionship. Anything would do. A friend, a lover, a partner... anything...

"How much do you miss your trumpet?" he asked, as if he had a solution. For the right person, with the right desire, he seemed to ALWAYS have a way. Nathaniel was very skilled when it came to procurement of various items; especially when it came to music. He continued to hum through the interlude, as he decided where to put the next phrase of lyrics. It wasn't his best work lyrically, but the music was definitely a new high for him. The way he broke down certain chords made them more complex than they would be in their full transcription, thus providing a certain dissonance that tugged at the heart strings, and distorted in the ears in such a manner that it could physically bring tears just from the tuning of the chord.

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

"There's only one thing I miss more. I would die to have my trumpet back. Not that dying would do much good... I think the trumpet would be useless if I was dead," Macy said with a smile. The guy seemed to make her feel comfortable, more so than anyone had in a long time. It was easy for her to smile, and in a place like this, smiles didn't come lightly. Maybe she could use a friend. She hadn't had one in a long time. Maybe something more? At the moment, Macy was desperate for any sort of connection another human could give her. Something to make her feel accepted, feel wanted, to feel loved. It was important to her to be loved. After a while of not being loved, it was like she was a flower, and she'd start to wilt away, retreating farther and farther into herself until no one would see her again. Only her outer shell.

Macy didn't want that to happen. She wanted to connect with others, she wanted to laugh and talk with friends. After finally finding friends with the band, she couldn't dream of going back to having none. And Macy could feel herself starting to slip into herself again. She desperately wished for someone to come along and open her up, force her to stop disappearing from the world. She needed someone to tell her she was important, that she was needed. She needed it as much as a rose needed water, without it, this little rose would be nothing more than a pile of dead petals.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Nathaniel's smile widened momentarily, before he repeated his chorus. He didn't quite formulate a second verse just yet, and decided to plug in a second chorus instead.

"It feels like~ nothin's
goin' on 'round here, no more~
It seems like all of the people
forgot to breathe today~ yeah.
Well, I~ say to you~
It's time that you realized, yeah.
Well, I~ say to you~
Wake up and open your eyes~
Yeah, yeah~~~"

The progression grew much more intense in volume and dissonance, borderline mayhem in a way. The passion he poured into the song not only showed through his voice, not only through his fingers, but through the fiery passion in his eyes, for he solidly believed in every word he sang. Every word exerted such an amount of sheer defiance, that it came across almost angrily; that anger offset by a sweet, yet unnerving falsetto which lingered in the longer holds.

"And I~~~ can't believe my eyes~
anymore~~~
And I~~~ can't be told to believe this
ill rancor~~~
See this hateful epidemic sweepin' all the world?~
It's unlike anything we've seen before~~~~~

After belting that phrase, and letting it ring out in against all the walls of the lounge, the song took an abrupt turn, back into the calmness from which it began. The humming subsided momentarily as Nathaniel spoke.

"If there's only one more thing you'd want more than your trumpet, then it's a given what it is. And given what it is, you would have your trumpet," he deduced, rocking his head back and forth slowly and casually to the bends of the song. "I can get you a trumpet."

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

"Wait, now I'm confused. How do you know what I want more than a trumpet? And how are you going to get me a trumpet? I'm not saying don't, I'll love you forever if you do, I'm just wondering how that's possible," Macy said. She looked at his eyes. Such a pretty color they were, so unusual. They seemed to trap her, draw her in, not let her go. They captured her, stole her attention, kept her from thinking of anything else.

Macy shook her head and looked back at the fire. She needed to stop herself before her mind took her too far. She barely knew the guy! She didn't really want to fall for someone anyway, no matter how cute. She was too afraid of getting hurt. She had enough pain in her life as it was, she didn't need to add more to it.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Nathaniel rolled those entrapping eyes of his.

"There's only one thing people here want more than anything else. It ain't that hard to figure out."

As he continued about the song, he gazed back into the girl's eyes. Such a color wasn't familiar to him, though one could say the same about his own. There was a certain conviction in her eyes that he rarely saw, which led him to believe that maybe she could be trusted. Maybe she could be trusted more than most. In any case, she wasn't bad looking. Not by a long shot. As a matter of fact, one could say she was right up Nathaniel's alley. The short skirt, the boots, and of course the hair... The rebel look drove it all home. She could be trusted. Perhaps more than just trusted, in the long run, but who could know that from someone's physical appearance? In any case, Nathaniel approved. She was a little young for him, but hey, when in Rome...

"Might I ask your name? Or do I get to play the guessing game?" His grin was one of mischief; not the negative kind, but a playful kind. Nathaniel was about to put this girl through the gauntlet of a player. The worst kind of player, at that. The kind of player that knows he's GOOD at being a player.

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

"But how do you know I want the same thing? I'm not like everyone else. I'm not just another human. I'm me. And I don't play by the same rules as everyone else. So how do you know I want what everyone else wants," Macy asked defiantly. She never had liked people assuming something about her, and this was no different.

"I'm Macy," she said. She might as well talk to him. He was pretty cute, and it seemed her mind and head where in different places. Wouldn't that be the same thing? she thought to herself. No, they can be different. My head is the one I can't control, my mind I can. So of course he mind said to stay away, while her head had other opinions on the matter. It seemed Macy had no control on her life, no matter how much she wished for it. Oh well, might as well make the most of it. she thought.

"So do I get to know your name? Or do I get to be left in the dark?"

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Nathaniel let the song hang on an E minor 7 before setting down the guitar, carefully of course.

"Do we all not want the same thing? Do we all not want to be back home, where we came from; where we belong? Do we all not wish to be back in the place we were most free to live our lives as we wished? Do we all not wish to be free from the oppressive rule of the scum that monitors us so closely? I mean, the Patriot Act was kinda dumb, I'll admit, but this is nothing short of FASCISM! Yes, you want a trumpet, to continue about your own heart's music, but do you now wish to rid yourself of this veritable Hell to which we've been absconded?" Nathaniel stood from his seat before the fireplace, and took two steps closer to Macy, crossing his arms as he came to a halt.

"While you may be different, it's that one thing that unites us. We either return home, or we overturn this oppression. While turning the tables would be nice, I'm sure you'd prefer to be back home, with your friends. I know I'd kill to make it back. If Satan were discernible amongst these beasts, I'd sell my soul to him if that would allow me to return!"

A moment passed before Nathaniel even made mention of an identity.

"I need to know exactly where you stand before I know what I want you to call me... and I'd love for you to be able to call me by my favorite name," he added, grinning.

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

Macy looked at him, suddenly seeing more to him then she had before. She should have seen it, it was so obvious. Of course the man was a rebel. It was obvious in everything he did, in his music, even in the way he carried himself. Macy was sure she was the same way. But she was used to being a rebel, it was second nature for her to carry herself that way.

All it took was that one realization for all of Macy's fears about the man to go out the window, so to speak. Why bother trying to stop feelings? She was a teenage girl, let them run where they will! As long as they pointed to a rebel like herself, she was fine with it.

"Yes, I would like to go home. I guess that would be second, making my trumpet third. For you see, there's one thing that's more important to me then music and this rebellion put together. And that's something that I would die for in a heartbeat. And getting home would get me closer to that, so why would I not do whatever it takes to get home? My life isn't complete unless I'm home," Macy said, squaring her shoulders and looking the man right in the eyes. It took a little willpower to keep her mind from wandering while looking at those eyes, but she managed.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Nathaniel smiled a warm smile.

"The name is Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau. You may call me 'Shadow', if you wish. My friends back home always did, anyways. Call me what you will, so long as it ain't 'Nate' or 'Ollie'. Those are reserved for my blood relatives," he explained.

"Might I know what it is you so desperately wish for, if not to be at home? Getting you home may take you closer, but getting home isn't the ultimate goal. If there's one thing beyond that, it must be worth a whole life's worth of suffering. And for it to be so important, my mind can't help but wander..." He paused, and shrugged. "Not that it's any of my business, anyways. You don't have to say. I'm just another curious fool, going about his business, writing songs in hopes that maybe, just maybe, they'll touch someone, and give them that extra boost of energy to get them through their hard day. My aim is to motivate, and to inspire. And if I've done neither, then I have failed." He paused again as he turned his back and sat back down on the sofa, patting the seat next to him. "Failure doesn't mean the game's over, though."

[Macy Lyn Rowe]

Macy sat down and regarded the flames with a sad smile. Memories of her little sister began to fill her head, and she could feel the tears starting to well up once again, just like they always did when Macy thought of Anne. This was why she tried not to think of her in front of other people, but she didn't always succeed at that goal.

"I want my little sister back. I want to find her again, to see her. She's probably grown so much since I was taken... I don't know how our parents could have not noticed that their ten year old daughter wasn't in the house... That's why I was taken, because I went to go look for her, I went to sleep under a bridge and woke here. I haven't seen Anne since the day I was taken... Sometimes I think I'll never see her again..." Macy said quietly.

[Nathaniel Oliver Shaddeau]

Nathaniel nodded.

"I can definitely understand that. Although I can account for where everyone was before I was taken, I can definitely understand where you're coming from. It's just sad that there ain't more people like us, with such a desire to get out. It's hard to make things happen with such a small faction. And then nobody can agree on leadership of any form..." He shook his head in disapproval. "Revolutionaries... Feh... All of them say that their way is the ONLY way. All of them too stubborn to realize that a little compromise could go such a long way in this mess. The faction is divided on many levels. And even the divisions have divisions... And there wasn't a big group of us to begin with, even if we WERE united!"

Nathaniel kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and threw his head back.

"It just ain't right... And I wish there was a way to show those bozos that we're all resisting for the same general reasons. We all want out out their grasp. Of course, the most basic dividing issue is between simply overthrowing the boogie rule, or to go in search of the portal or portals that would allow us back into our own universe. If you'd ask me, I'd rather just find a way out. But, if we get out, then who's to say we won't get dragged right back in? The true solution would be to either overthrow the boogies, or to at least cede and establish our own independent state and ward them off as we try to find a way out. Overthrowing them entirely might seal our fates to this pit, as the portals might be destroyed...... But what do I know? I'm just rambling on at this point!"