Realistic or Modern Local Dreams ♪

[Sunbather]

Finally! The day of reckoning has come. A medium sized arena filled with chit chat and musical performances. You see countless heads, most of the contestants are around 18-25. Groups here and there, some disgruntled rejects that need to lick their wounds in the back, some harsh judgement calls from the man you assume is Harvey Whipman. He thrones like a chancelor in front of the stage. A hint of dust makes its presence felt in the dim light. But suddenly, the life seems to come to a sudden halt in the hall, as the next aspiring star steps onto the stage... how will they fair?
​

"What's your name and what are you here for?"

​

Whipman's voice is a little harsh, but mostly reeky of annoyance. The man's been here all day, disappointed with what he heard so far...

​

This is your moment. Don't mess up!

​

 

[Sunbather]

Valerie was sitting on the far right, almost right next to the exit. Her feet were propped up against the seat in the row before her, her arms wrapped around her own body, as if to shield herself from something. She saw several people try out, ranging from shredding guitar solos, hectic drumming to soulful singing. She wasn't sure what it was, but the manager scared her. His style of authority was feeling off, but now was no time to worry about something like that. As the last contestant left the stage, a harsh voice barked out a loud "Next!" and she had set her mind on getting this over with. Inbetween all these talented people, Valerie felt incredibly inedequate. She didn't play an instrument aside from some subpar guitar chords, and her singing ability... well, she couldn't gauge this properly. Given her social life, she never felt comfortable sharing her work, neither her most heartfelt singing nor her writing. A little shaky, she got up and slowly entered the stage. Valerie's messy hair was tied back into a lose bun, her tiny frame hidden below a long, white tank top and a dark, red leather jacket that looked pretty roughed up and was at least two numbers too big for her. Her legs were slightly inverted, giving her a defensive appearance, while her feet tapped a little nervously on the ground.


"Uh... Hi. I'm... My name's Valerie. Lynch. Uhm, I'm here to audition as a vocalist, and I..."


She was cut off rather rudely. "Why do you want to be part of this band?" the manager asked.


"I... I want to make... music that's real... and, not something fake and overproduced. And, I... I don't play any instruments, so... Yeah."


Whippleman motioned for her to start, not even replying to her answer. Val felt her heartrate shoot up. She cleared her throat, grabbed the microphone and closed her eyes, trying to hear the music in her head. What followed was a rather hoarse, shaky performance of a Neutral Milk Hotel song called "Little Birds". After about ten seconds, the manager stood up.


"Stop." He looked at his watch and motioned for someone to come in. "First off, original songs, please, thank you. I want to create the next myth, the next Stones or Beatles, not just another quick buck band. So... do it right or don't do it at all. Secondly... Ian, please!" he yelled, motioning for someone to join him. "Everybody, this is Ian Radley. A very talented man, may I add. I've organized this event to bring truely talented people together. People who strive to become legends, strive to connect with people beyond party themed bullshit. And I couldn't imagine a better fit to take over for me, than this man. Thank you for performing everybody. From here on out, I would like you to impress this man, instead of me. Now..." he turned towards Valerie. "Miss Lynch, please." He sat down. An uncomfortable silence went through the air, as the girl on the stage flashed an insecure smile to the new man in charge.


Once again, she closed her eyes as everything settled down, this time, her mind darted through every little thing she had ever written. Eventually, she got into the mood and sang. Soulful, emotional. The words might have seemed like rambling to an outsider, as she sang about diamond studded lanterns, sunsets at the bottom of the occean and a cat that fenced with a maiden, but the girl poured her heart out with every syllable, every metephor, and that, at least that, translated through her performance. After about a two minutes, she finished and regained complete awareness of her situation. She could feel the blood rushing through her head as her cheeks turned a little darker. Somewhat scared, she let go of the microphone and awaited a response, praying she'd be accepted.


@Bawadaboo (Please Mister Manager, your turn to torture us )

 

[Bawadaboo]

From the darkened corner of the auditorium Ian could see everything, hear everything, and remain unseen and unheard by everything. His instructions required him to sit quietly and absorb everything about his mentor's audition process. He'd done so, and noted two things. One: Harvey's approach was brutal and uncalloused. Two: Harvey was not looking for the best of the best.


They'd been in the auditorium all day long, since about 7 AM. They'd begun receiving auditions at 9, and had been in a steady rejection mood for the duration. The reasons were easy enough to understand. The finger work was sloppy, the drummer had awful posture, the vocals were from the head, rather than the chest. All of these things were true, but in reality they weren't why people were getting shut down left and right. Elvis wasn't the king of Rock N' Roll because he was the best rock n' roller out there. Every single award he ever won was for gospel music. The point of the matter was, you didn't have to be the best to be the best. Whipman had tossed several masterful guitarists and drummers out on their asses for no other reason than that he could. Now that the torch had officially been passed, Ian wondered if he actually knew what Whipman wanted, or if he was just kidding himself. Ian's attention left his thoughts and flashed to the girl walking across the stage.


Valerie Lynch's bumbling introduction left much to be desired. She had the look. Cute, dark, mysterious, and edgy. It wasn't an original look, but it worked. She was nervous, as every applicant was. She probably even more so because she'd seen so many others get the boot. Whipman demanded a song, and she delivered a sloppy rendition of "Little Birds." Harvey challenged her to sing something original, as he did with every singer they'd come across. He then turned and shot a look to Ian. The protégé knew what that meant. Ian followed his loud introduction all the way to Harvey's side. With a quick handshake Harvey had Ian take a seat next to his right. Ian slid into the chair, returning the smile to the frightened chipmunk of a vocalist on the stage. He wasn't expecting much when Lynch opened her mouth again.


It was sublime. The wording and poetic structure of the verse's could use work, but the overall melody and tone of the original song was excellent, and because it was something she'd written she was much more comfortable with it. Her emotions flooded into the words as they danced off her tongue, and even though he was still critical of the performance, Ian was entranced. He let her stew in her performance for a moment, sharing a look with Whipman. The old man nodded, giving Ian the floor.


"Miss. Lynch... Do you know why we asked you to sing something original?" His answer was nervous shake of the head from Valerie. He smiled. "We ask you to sing original music for several reasons." He produced four fingers on his right hand. "One" He ticked off a finger. "We want to know you can, and have the aptitude to write something. Two." Ticked another finger. "We need to know you're able to put yourself out there and present something of your own creation. Three. We need to see if you have a better understanding of melodic motion than the typical four-chord trap-star. And Four." He pointed his remaining finger at her. "We want to see if your talent can hold up without piggybacking off the creative influences of someone else's work." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers over each other.


"Anyone can cover an easy song and sound passable. That's why you hear hundreds of renditions of "I'll Be" By Edwin McCain in every vocal audition. Singing someone else's work is like forging a signature. Sure it looks ok, maybe it even looks like the same thing, but its still someone else's style that you are copying. Even if you don't mean to, you're still taking their performance into account when you decide how you're going to sing it for us. We ask you to sing original because, despite what my colleague said, We are not making the next Beatles or the next anybody. We are making the first 'You'." He held his hands open, watching her bewildered expression with a small chuckle. "You've succeeded in all of these things Valerie, and it would be my pleasure to make you the first signee to our new label." He clapped his hands together. "Congratulations." He fell back into his seat, " You'll meet our contract worker out that door" he pointed to the door at stage left. "Next!" He shouted to the shocked crowd of applicants.


"Nice show. But cute speeches and emotional bullshit will only take you so far." The harsh voice whispered into his ear.


"Oh, but Harvey. You know how much I love speeches." He flashed a look back to the crowd who hadn't moved a muscle. "I said next!"

 

[HighFlyer]

Avery sat quietly in his seat, waiting for the right moment and for his confidence to be at a peak. So far today, he had seen both awful and great people turned away, and the idea of being shut down actually frightened the boy. Of course he had originality, he had learned the guitar on his own so it was quite obvious that some bad habits had ended up developing into something unique and, frankly, unable to be copied. But like any good musician, he worried that what he saw as unique, the manager would find annoying or unnecessary.


After over an hour of sitting in the chair, Avery began to stand but quickly sat back down when a girl stood and took the stage. She introduced herself as Valerie Lynch and he cringed internally at the site of the girl. It wasn't that she was ugly, or her attire was cringe-worthy, it was simply the fact that her obvious nervousness matched exactly how he felt on the inside. When she started, she was great. Not cheap and overrated sounding like the others who had sung today, she was actually (for lack of a better word) her. But, much to Avery's dismay, she was quickly cut off and he thought she was going to be booted off the stage. However, they were only pausing to introduce the new manager or something and they gave her another chance. "That's a first," he thought, wondering if the managers saw what he saw. Evidently they did because when she had finished, they accepted her, and prompted her to go talk to some people in the doorway.


Avery sat quietly through two or three more performances before standing and making his way to the stage. He took a deep breath before stepping in front of the dreaded microphone. He felt the judgement ripple through the crowd as he stood there with an acoustic guitar slung around his shoulder. So far all of the guitarists had auditioned using a snazzy electric guitar and shredding mad notes. He cleared his throat, unintentionally making the microphone send a whiny high-pitched squeal through the crowd.


"Hello, I'm Avery Augustine and I'm here auditioning as a guitarist," he shot a nervous glance down at the guitar in his hands before looking back up at Ian and shooting a cheeky smile. "I play electric as well, it's just that I feel that it's better to exemplify my skills on the acoustic because it can easily be transferred to the electric. After all, anyone can shred without true talent." He almost began but he remembered one last thing. "Oh yeah. I think I'm a good addition to this band because I can offer you a sound you wont find anywhere else."


With a shaky inhale, and a quick fumble around the frets, Avery found the correct hand position and began finger-picking a lovely tune that he had written not to long ago. The song was impressively stuffed full of all his skills, yet in a way that was subtle and lyrical. By the time he had finished, a smile crept onto his face as he realized that he had not only executed the song perfectly, but he had added style and flair even some things on the spot. He looked up at Ian again with a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

 

[Bawadaboo]

After Valerie Lynch found her way off the stage Ian was subjected to a barrage of brain numbing guitar thrashing from what must have been the membership of the "I like to play metal without musicality or originality, and I really really like my long greasy hair fan-club." He gave each one their due, but quickly dismissed them when they were done playing. By the time Avery Augustine got on stage Ian had had about enough of guitar. Though, Avery's appearance with a smooth acoustic Ibanez afforded some extra attention.


"...After all, anyone can shred without true talent." Ian had to stifle a laugh at that one. His mood was beginning to be turned. Avery was calm, respectful, funny, and best of all nervous. The others were nervous too, but they still had that 'I'm the second coming of Van-Halen' attitude. Cool, but no you're not. Nervousness was good. If you weren't nervous about a performance, then you were stupid. No one is good enough to not be nervous. Ian gave Avery the floor, wishing with all he had that the kid had some skills to back up Ian's already high opinion of him.


The piece was subtle and bright. There was no lack of skill in Avery's playing, no twingy strings, no missed picks. It was very very well done. There were some little nuances to the performance that struck Ian as odd. His chord shapes were... unorthodox, and his picking style was much different than you'd see from a classically trained musician, but none of these things turned Ian away. They actually made him more interested. The more Avery played, the brighter his smile grew. Every note moved closer to the final strum, which left Avery with a bright grin and a hopeful eye. Ian could tell, Avery loved playing, loved performing, and really wanted this shot. And Ian was going to give it to him.


Ian sat up in his chair and clapped a few times. "Very, very well done my friend." He began, clasping his fingers together once again. "You're self-taught?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I could tell. You're right, you have a very unique style of playing that I frankly have never seen before. You're extremely skilled with your instrument, your original piece was delightful, you seem to truly love playing music, not for the fame or for the chicks, but because you genuinely love music. You've got some serious balls coming up here and insulting all of your competition who if I could be completely honest, would probably kick your ass. That's only because they'd be so jealous that they didn't get the spot in our project like you did. With all that, and a total rockstar name like Avery Augustine, how could we not pick you? I hope you've got an electric guitar buddy, welcome to the band." He held out his hands in the same fashion as he did earlier for Valerie. "Out that door you'll sign your contract. Congratulations Avery!" Ian placed his hands back on the arm rests and turned to the dwindling group of auditionees. "Lead guitarists, please don't 'The Who' our auditorium on the way out. Good luck next time." He smiled excitedly, knowing he couldn't have gotten a more suited guitarist if he'd designed one himself. "Next!"

 

[AnimeliaAnimalia]

Although he had certainly noticed when all of the off-tune screeching guitar performances were starting to number in the double digits, Adam couldn't say he was surprised. If anything was surprising, it was how all these people could be so uncreative and talent-lacking at playing the guitar, yet seemed prodigiously efficient at adding more outrageous and inane things to playing the guitar.


...Was that a power drill that guy was holding?


Slumping in his seat, he marveled at the clichéd popularity of this famed instrument, honestly, it was like High School all over again. "Do you play anything?" "Why yes, I play guitar...along with every other guy this side of 18." Snorting quietly at his own inner dialogue, his attention was drawn to the stage, and to the only acoustic guitarist who had auditioned all day. Much to his surprise (this time for real), it wasn't actually half bad and he found himself humming some harmonies along with the player. When the manager applauded and approved of the player, he shrugged. As far as guitarists went, the skill of this guy seemed fairly high and Adam knew better than to take a guitarist's personality into consideration when selecting one. Experience had taught him that with these assholes, it was more beneficial to choose the ones with skills and ignore whatever (various) character flaws happened to be present. A nasty character alone could be ignored as long as they played well, but a nasty character combined with zero skill was nothing short of a nightmare.


After the acoustic guitarist had left the stage, a good number of other guitarists started to leave the building, obviously having hoped that they would get the lead guitar part, and unwilling to shoot for a rhythm guitar position. With the clearing of many a lousy head-banger(I mean if you're going to do it, do it right am I right?), Adam sat down to await his turn. He had made a risky choice of a song, but when he saw how many skilled players, singers, and whatever-you-called-poetry-reciters thrown out, despite being highly skilled, he figured his chances weren't so bad.


"Next!" Gritting his teeth, Adam slapped his cheeks to focus and gently fingered his Edge's strings for luck. Taking a small breath, he walked out onto the stage.


"Hi." A slight wave to his tiny two-man audience, as nobody else seemed to be paying attention to him. "My name's Adam Sterett and I play the bass guitar. I didn't fail at playing guitar or anything like that, I honestly like playing bass." Whether or not he passed or failed, Adam wanted to get that straight, seeing as everyone else had always got it wrong. Turning his focus to the instrument he held in his arms, Adam let a small smile take over his face as he rubbed the neck of one of his oldest friends. "I...I wouldn't trade it for the world." Determined to be proud of this performance no matter what, he turned back towards the two men. "I want to join this band because I want to play as much music as I possibly can, and not just any music; I want to play music that I'm proud of. I'm confident I can help make this band great, with a bass guitar."


Nodding firmly, he faced his instrument and started playing. It was a song he had composed a couple weeks ago, written on the spur of the moment, but one he had really liked. Smooth, airy, and soft, the song was perfect for an early morning in a coffee shop. Composed right after he had eaten breakfast, he had wanted to pay a tribute to the carefree and relaxed atmosphere of smooth jazz, his current flavor of music. Letting his fingers flow over the fingerboard, Adam lost himself in the song, mind zeroing in on the exact scenario he had envisioned while writing it; the sound of quiet chatter, the scent of coffee and pastries, and the warm, rich atmosphere of the café.


As he came to a close, he opened his eyes, meeting those of Mr. Radley. Standing up straight, he set his shoulders back, ready for his verdict. He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips; it had been a long time since he had performed just for fun.


@Bawadaboo (Oh, I'm not sure if you'd like references or not, but I noticed that Avery had an Ibanez, so for this audition, I was envisioning Adam bringing the bass he bought as a kid, a Dean Edge 09, in black)

 

[Bawadaboo]

By the time Adam Sterett walked on stage Ian and Whipman had seen and tossed aside ten or so bassists, not even the slightest bit impressed. They were fine players sure, but none of them had enough spark to catch Ian's attention past introductions. There were only a few bassists left, and Ian was running out of patience. He hoped against hope that this next player had something special in him. Ian gazed up hopefully at the dark young man gracing his stage, branding a black Edge.


The first impression of Adam was not what Ian had expected. Rather than the brooding bass-head with his thumb up his ass about bass being 'really the most important instrument in the band', Adam spoke with grace and humility. Though he might have held back some of his slight contempt for the guitarists. He wasn't a guitar washout, this much was explained. To be fair, this was a common thing. A good guitarist is a dime a dozen, but a good bassist will almost always find work, so lots of weaker guitar players turn to bass to try and get a little bit of notoriety. Adam was obviously not like that. The way he looked at his bass, and held it with such ginger hands. He really loved the instrument. Good.


Adam began to pluck away at his bass, filling the empty air with an easy 'start-the-day' groove. The bassist plucked every string easily, without flubbing up or twinging a string with his fingernail, and really left one of the purist bass sounds resonating in the empty auditorium. The groove had the slightest hint of jazz flair in it, while still retaining a contemporary coffee-house style. It was honestly some of the best bass playing Ian had heard in quite a long time. Ian had already decided to include Adam in the band before even considering the kid's personality. Adam finished playing and lowered his bass, looking out at the judges with a hopeful gleam.


"Adam, you are, and I'm not just fluffing you up here, the best bass player in this room. It's as simple as that. Your tone was perfect, style was flawless, and your technique is incredible. You've thoroughly impressed me here. Good work." He gave a few quick claps for the player. "The only problem is that I don't think you respect your instrument as much as you should." He held his hands up in defense of the surprised/grumpy look Adam unintentionally shot him. "Don't take that badly though. There's really nothing wrong with that, I just don't want you to have the wrong idea about your instrument going forward. You told me specifically that you didn't wash out of the guitar, you just love bass. That's very nice, and I'm glad you love your instrument. You should absolutely never ever ever have to defend your instrument choice though. If you take one thing away from this audition, I want it to be this. Never be ashamed or feel lesser because of your instrument choice. The bass is just as important as the guitar, sometimes even more so. Every instrument in any band is just as important as the others." Ian pointed a finger at Adam. "While you tour with us, I don't ever want to hear you talk down about your instrument again. Are we understood?" A nod was all Ian needed from the kid. "See our contract person out the door, can't wait to work with you. You truly have an amazing sound Adam. Congratulations."





Ian felt as if he might have dismissed Adam with a little more aggression than the others, but he didn't really care. Adam seemed the type who could handle constructive criticism, and there was no way Ian was going to let an inferiority complex worm its way through the band. The crew needed the utmost confidence, and Ian felt quite sure that he could instill that confidence as long as he made sure Adam didn't think he was a background player.





"Next!"

 

[Akeira]

Talise Beauchêne sat near the side of the stage, listening to Death Cab for Cutie on her iPod in a poor attempt to block out the other auditions. The brunette lounged with her hazel orbs focused on the dark ceiling, aiming to concentrate on her audition piece, rather than the dreadful crooning and poor playing of hopefuls trying out for vocal and instrumental roles. Even the people she thought would make it were turned away, only making her confidence disappear much more quickly than it had built up. Though Talise was no expert at statistics, the odds were not in her favor, considering how many people had been rejected already. Pulling an ear bud out of her ear, she listened to the comments the manager had about one performer, her eyes widening at his blunt words and mighty attitude. "Shit, he's really being harsh with these auditions. I wonder what has his panties in a wad." She murmured candidly to the man sitting beside her, causing him to chuckle. Though she was happy to make someone laugh, her anxiety continued to increase, as the number of people in the auditorium diminished.





The three performers who made it so far were definitely among the best. The first, Valerie Lynch, had certainly entranced the audience, when she sang an original rather than the cover she rehearsed. Talise excused the young woman's clothing, figuring that her phenomenal talent made up for her appearance. Avery Augustine, the guitarist played recruited by Whipman and Radley, definitely "shredded," for lack of better words. He was self taught and had a unique sound, something the band could really utilize. Lastly, Adam Sterett seemed to want to prove his point by explaining why he played the bass. Talise almost snorted, as he described his ambition to be in the band, but it was obvious that he was a very talented musician.





"NEXT!" A voice roared from the front of the stage, drawing Talise from her observations. The twenty-year-old looked around to who was willing to go next, yet no one rose from his or her seat. It dawned on her that now was the perfect moment to showcase her talents. The brunette sighed and stood, attempting to think of how to make herself more appealing on stage. As she approached the foot of the stage, she decided to appear more confident, as many of the applicants before her were nervous. Perhaps that will give me an edge? She pondered, slowly ascending the stairs to the stage. Tossing her long hair behind her, she walked toward the center of the stage, adjusting her black crop top and letting her ivory maxi skirt sway behind her.


"Hmm, hello. I'm Talise Beauchêne, and I'll be auditioning for keyboard. I also do a bit of vocals, so I'm interested in doing back-up as well." She stated rapidly, rocking on her heels slightly and glancing down at Harvey Whipman in the front row. Since she noticed Whipman interrupted many of the other musicians' introductions, the brunette made a decision to speak faster in an effort to finish before the legendary manager cut in with his cliché questions. Talise raised a brow the manager's vacant expression, feeling a bit of annoyance rise up in her chest, as he already seemed disinterested. "I want to be in the band to give a voice to those who are often ignored. I have a lot to say and I really just want people to listen and understand." She stated with small smile, shrugging her shoulders in an effort to shake off her bubbling nervousness.


Without so much as a word, Harvey Whipman stared at her intently, motioning for her to begin moments later. The brunette gave him a nod in return, moving toward the keyboard with a microphone attached. Talise sat down on the stool behind the keyboard, clearing her throat, adjusting a few settings on the instrument, and bringing her hands up to play. Moments later, her hands began to flow across the keys and a melodious voice rang throughout the auditorium. She played a song and accompaniment she entitled "Like Summer, Like Rain," a combination of indie rock and contemporary rhythm and blues. The brunette played her heart out and closed her eyes, feeling like she was transported to her happy place. With her eyes closed, the college student continued her audition, letting her muscle memory and voice be her guides. Toward the end of the song, her eyes opened to reveal her hazel orbs and a slightly dazed expression on her face. The ending chord resounded through the large room, and she looked down at Misters Radley and Whipman for their commentary.


Talise stood from the keyboard and cleared her throat, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. The brunette stared at the two geniuses, waiting for some indication that her dreams may come true, even though the odds were against her. Standing center stage without anywhere to hide, she waited quietly, trying to access her verdict by the expression on Ian Radley's face. Considering the difficult time she had, she only hoped it meant he was considering bringing her on.

 

[Bawadaboo]

Now this was a change. Most of the auditioners took on a punk or alternative look, but this Talise girl, she seemed super... delicate. A slender frame and a long flowing skirt gracefully climbed the stage and stood before Ian. The manager let out a deep yawn, placing a hand over his mouth to cover his unintended rudeness. He had been there all day after all. She wasted no time in introducing herself, splatting out a quick reason for her audition, and wasting no time taking her seat at the piano. She was nervous, and after sitting through so many auditions already, she'd seen the routine. She didn't give them enough time to cut her introduction off like they loved so badly to do. She left a decent impression so far, now to see if she had any playing chops.


The piano sprang to life, notes dancing across the room and bouncing from wall to ceiling, touching every bit of open space with the gorgeous melody, and when the girl began to sing the room only got brighter. She had something special, it was obvious from the moment she began. Every note, every harmony, every finger movement was like a starburst that enveloped every one of Ian's emotion's. He had chills. Ian had a feeling that no matter what type of song she played, happy, sad, angry, or anything, it would resonate with the soul. She had a gift. It was a gift Ian knew he wanted in his band.


When she concluded her piece she stood up, rocking on her heels. Ian noticed she was once again feeling the nervous energy. He hadn't picked up on it while she was playing, but once she stepped away from her instrument the nervousness came back. It was strange.


Ian piped up. "Miss. Beauchene, that was absolutely elegant." He gave a few claps. "Ab.so.ultely Elegant. I want you. I'm amazed you don't already have a steady gig, because you are a sublime performer." He tilted his head to the side. "The only thing I think you have to work on is those nerves of yours. You gotta relax hun. When you were behind that piano on that bench you were cool as a cucumber, but the minute you step away you get all fidgety again. That's not a bad thing, any musician who isn't nervous before a performance is stupid. Nerves push you to play your best, but you've got no reason to be nervous when you talk to us. You've got the goods Talise, and I want you in this band. Congratulations. You'll meet our signing agent out that door." He turned his head to the remaining auditioners.


"If you are not a percussionist you will please leave." he motioned for the door. "All other spots are filled, thank you for your time."


"Next!"

 

[Sunbather]

Valerie had left the room for a solid while, searching for the responsible person she was to find. Her stomach was still grumbling, her mind racing. She had actually gotten the spot! Her usual exhausted, sad expression had made way for a much more happy one. Hell, even her walk had a little spring to it. Every now and then, she could hear a wave of people leaving, moans and aggressive, almost defensive mumbling droned along with it. "Must've been declined..." she figured, feeling somewhat sorry for them. Then again, it was a common occurence for her to take hits and failures all the time. It kind of felt good to finally be on the other side of the fence. An evil little smirk crawled into her face, the corners of her mouth raised a little.


"Uhm, Hello?" She had stuck her head into a plethora of rooms. An inner wave of nervousness washed over her. Her mind had gone blank as the manager had told her, that she was accepted. Valerie wasn't sure if it was the excitement or the pills she had taken. Secretely cursing her little addiction, she barely remembered what she was told. "I gotta find that person... but... where?" "Anyone here?" She asked, once more opening a door and peaking into the room. It couldn't be THAT spacey in here, how the hell was her destination so hard to find. "Play it cool... Alright, think..." Finally, an idea. She would just go back, and wait for the other bandmembers. They'd get the same message, surely. And then they could go together. Brilliant. Valerie creeped back into the audition room. It had gotten considerably emptier, and a drumkit was just being put onto the stage. Valerie caught the glance of Ian, a nervous, slightly-forced smile flared up.





"Hey... I... uh... I just thought, I can go there with the others, right? Uhm... make some small-talk, right?" she said, inching closer to him. She sank into the seat next to him, her fast speech showing her nerves. "I just... I was really curious how the others play... And... yeah."