taxonomites | 12 | visual |All the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

Kobra is in one of his moods, not the good kind. He's been unable to sleep again, nightmares haunting him, and he's homesick. By now he's given up hoping that Ghoul, Jet, Grace or even Show Pony are going to show up here. Sometimes it makes it hard to breathe, like there are people shaped holes in his chest.

His mood has gone from angry to depressed, a distinct and obvious change. Kobra's phases of depression were never easy on him and probably the only case where BL/nd had ever been right about medication. They'd just never given him the right kind.

In addition to that Kobra is still miserably sick, and it was getting worse each day. He is congested, his throat feels hot and raw and even little sips of water seem to send his stomach into revolt. Everything sucks and Kobra wants to pout in a corner, maybe even cry some tears of rage.

Nothing of that shows though as he looks at the tablet, blood-shot eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He's even more sensitive to light these days. His face is impassive as ever, voice just a little bit more flat, a lot more nasal.

"Is there something like a radio around?" Because the one thing that has always helped at least a little was music. But he had none in Taxon. "Or...anything of that kind?" He could probably listen to music on the tablet, but there wouldn't be a proper DJ and Kobra felt like that is too easy for the hamsters to track. Music has always been a form of rebellions, something you do away from prying eyes.

Kobra lights a cigarette and sniffs, rubbing his nose. "C'mon, there's gotta be something?"

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Briar tilts his head in confusion. "What's a radio?"

Kobra's eyes widen behind his sunglasses. "Have you never heard of a radio? Or listened to it?" he wants to know, completely shocked. This is one of the evils in the world that needs to be remedied. "It's...uh...kinda like a box and music comes out of it."

"So it's a kind of instrument, then?" Briar guessed. He obviously didn't understand exactly what the big deal was about a radio. "Are you a musician?"

"Not really, no. You can hear all kinds of different songs from different bands on it. It's more a medium to play music?" Kobra tried to explain, then grinned slightly and nodded. "Yeah. I play bass. You play an instrument?"

Briar raised his eyebrows. "People can play music and save it for later, to play on that 'radio'?" It shouldn't surprise him so much, given the device he was using to talk, but it did. "Like writing things down, but with music." That was sort of fascinating, and he wondered if there was magic involved in the process.

He laughed. "No, I don't. When they civilized me they were too busy teaching me how to do chores and write and tend a garden to worry about music." They'd also been a little busy teaching him to meditate and control his magic. "Do you have a bass here?" he asked. Bass seemed like a relatively self-explanatory instrument, in terms of the sounds it might produce, but Briar had no idea what one looked like or how it would be played.

"Yes," Kobra nodded. "It's pretty cool. You get to listen to a lot of different stuff.

"Yeah I do. I can show you how to play, if you want?"

Briar nodded as well. He'd never had any particular musical inclinations, but he enjoyed it when he encountered it. If it were as easy as making a device repeat it back, a variety of music would be a lot more accessible to people who did really care about it.

He opened his hands in a gesture of agreement. "If you'd like to," Briar replied, a wry quirk to his mouth as he added, "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for awhile." Kobra was interested in his trees, and Briar didn't mind seeing if he was interested in something the other man enjoyed. If he had an ear for it, Briar would likely be a good musician with any instrument he tried. He'd spent long enough working with his hands and his breath.

"Nah, definitely got some time on your hands," Kobra agreed with a tiny smile. "It's a deal then."

Poor kid, thinks Wyatt upon hearing the familiar but muted voice. He takes out his guitar (which he only ever plays for his own amusement) and his tablet. He takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table and places the tablet so he's in full view. He has a feeling Kobra Kid would want to watch someone else play an instrument, if only because music is in such high regard with both the killjoys.

He sets the feed to holo and starts playing with little explanation. He doesn't know all the words (from memory loss or failing to memorize it properly in the first place), but he can improvise, and hum what parts he just doesn't want to risk messing with.

"Some people born are ever so poor, oh! Why is it so,
Our fathers whom in the earth reside, perchance prefer it, oh

Our fathers whom in the earth reside, eyes closed and sleeping sweet,
Who cares but for a baby born poor, when one has lived life replete

Who cares but for how days go by, they wander where they will
Citizen, in but the blink of an eye, you'll be reduced to nil

By then, another life takes your place; you won't know a thing,
You won't know sun, earth or moon, where'er you're now resting

Who cares but for how nights fly by; I couldn't care less
Long as I'll stay right here, buried in my loved one's kiss

I am a man of ill repute, I ain't good for none
Behind that door, Death will abide - he'll grab me when he can

Some people born are ever so poor, until they no longer are
Devil, lying in wait every turn, laughs 'til he can't but cry..."

Kobra nearly chocked on the drag he'd just taken from his cigarette. Coughing a little he scooted closer to the tablet as if that'd make him see better or bring him closer. Then he actually forgot about the cigarette in his hand, just watching and listening avidly, corners of his lips curling into a tiny smile.

Right, so Cain totally wasn't a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, he was 100% sure now because Bl/nd had actual anti-art laws that included music.

When Cain finished Kobra was positively smiling. It wasn't the kind of song he or his band would play, much slower, but nice. It was just good to hear music again.

"That was really shiny," he said, as excited as Kobra Kid would ever get. "I really liked that song, never heard it before."

"Neither have I," Wyatt replied with a small, wry quirk of the lips. "All I really remember are the chords, and even that's mostly muscle memory. Same with the melody. But the words? Mostly brand new."

He's infinitely pleased, though, more than he thought he would be, to see that smile on the kid's face. "Thanks. It's... It was one of the songs written in the early days of the oppression. I know it was about mortality. Even in the Zone, people do die eventually...and we have to face injustice, and make choices that ultimately don't lead to anything in the long run. Resistance is an exercise in futility - the song says - but everyone knew the girl who wrote it meant the exact opposite. Stand up. Do something before it's too late. Don't grow complacent."

And that? That was something Kobra knew about. He nodded and even though he just said "Yeah, exactly," it was all there in the way he held himself and the determination on his face, showing just how much he agreed. Party would've probably said something dramatic or done an entire monologue now, but Kobra wasn't one for big words.

"We should play together, sometime. If you want to, I mean."

Cain knew better than most that especially with words and conversation, less really was more. You could say just as much by getting to the point, as talking a mile a minute. Sometimes, you could get a lot more across with a bit of music than with all the words in the zone.

"Sure. Maybe you could teach me some of your songs."

Kobra considered for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Sure. I'm rubbish at the guitar parts though." Jet and Ghoul had always worked on them separately and whenever Kobra had so much as touched Jet's guitar he'd gone into a fit about Kobra trying to improve his bass techniques before he even so much as considered learning another instrument.

Taking another drag from his cigarette Kobra coughs again, and rubs at his burning eyes. Back to his fucking body defeating him.

"Play me something else?"

12 | visual |All the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

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[holo] sorry, I just had to because if I could only translate this song right I think Kobra'd wub it

[holo] awwwww Kobra now wants Cain to adopt him

[holo] :3!

[holo] can i call you daddy?

[holo] Jeb might object, if he were here XD

[holo] Kobra does not care. At all XD