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haouintheworld · 5 years

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Savage

A Decayshipping fic co-written with the incredible @confuzzeledpanda

If you’re wondering what Decayshipping is, it’s the ship for Gentle Darkness (Tenebros) and the Light of Destruction. It’s a very angsty ride.

This fic is set 80 years after YGO GX, thus 20 years before YGO NT (thanks for the timeline and creating NT @itsashowtime ). It was inspired by Bahari’s “Savage” which I highly encourage you to listen to while reading along with “Fucked Up” and “Wild Ones” by the same band.

Warning (s): There’s some cursing

Why in hell Sophocles was supposedly in a steel warehouse in the middle of Brooklyn in the dead of winter, Tenebros did not know. Regardless, he had to walk in there and warn Sophocles that Sophia may come after him after that stunt he pulled with Yubel and Jūdai. The embodiment of the Gentle Darkness braced himself for the crowd and the blaring music he could hear bleeding into the street. He created clothes which gave him staff credentials and the bouncers let him in without a second glance, too concerned by the influx of concert goers arriving late.

Everything inside was grey, be it metal or concrete. A set of double doors separated the entry, complete with a merchandise booth and bar from the actual concert venue. More people were clearly inside so Tenebros made his way through them. He easily blended in with his all black outfit complete with a turtleneck sweater, ripped skinny jeans, oxfords, and leather gloves. He didn’t need much else since his powers naturally kept him warm.

Now the problem was moving through the crowd to find Sophocles. With the Light of Destruction’s height and white hair, he should be easy to find had not Tenebros been around five feet tall. This is why he liked his serpent form, he could make it grow to any length. But nope, not his human form. Dumb balance of the universe.

The space was almost filled. The balconies were near bursting and there wasn’t much room to move around on the ground floor. Tenebros worried for all of them. If Sophocles was here, then he could be planning anything from minor chaos to corrupting the whole lot. Tenebros wondered if the light being was ever as tired as he was of all the plotting.

The lights alternated pulses of scarlet, white, and gold. The trio onstage played some eerie pop music that Tenebros found himself liking. He wandered around the edge a bit, keeping himself close to the door. Every blond in the place looked like they had white hair in this light and there were too many people taller than him. No one he could see remotely resembled Sophocles as a few of songs came and went.

Tenebros was ready to call this a failure and just enjoy the concert when the crowd parted just right. Sophocles’ attention was on the stage as he swayed to the beat, knowing all the words. Plenty of other members of the crowd danced, but none of them seemed as in tune with music as Sophocles was. Tenebros let out a sigh of relief, seeing him safe and clearly in one of his elements. He observed Sophocles for a minute or two, taking note of how at peace he looked. Tenebros felt his heart twinge. He missed seeing Sophocles without cruelty lining his features. He missed talking to him without a conversation blowing up. Seeing Sophocles this at ease brought up memories of better times.

Tenebros had resigned himself to simply watching over Sophocles from a distance when the light entity met his gaze across the room. He looked surprised for a millisecond because it wasn’t in Tenebros’ nature to go to populated places. Tenebros didn’t meddle in the affairs of mortals or spend an abundance of time with his creations. Also, he hadn’t sought out Sophocles in centuries.

Sophocles’ surprise easily phased into a more playful expression and Tenebros steeled his heart. Suddenly he felt caught in a trap and there was nothing to do but make his way towards his enemy.

But should his supposed enemy be flashing a smile, a wave to come closer, or dancing like that? Tenebros thinks they're both making their way to each other now, but he’s not entirely sure because his eyes are locked on Sophocles. Watching his every move. He doesn’t realise that the crowd was parting bit by bit for the entity sometimes called the Light of Destruction. There’s the stir of whispers too, but Tenebros swears too many of them sound like Sophocles.

Tenebros could not take his eyes off of Sophocles, but he has his face scrubbed of any emotions. The only part which remains expressive anymore is his eyes. They're not pitch black for once and the lights catch the tiny stars. He’s aware of the simple little tricks Sophocles is pulling now. He’s using anything he can to his advantage. He knows the Darkness hates being the centre of attention, loathes having eyes on him. Anyone that he passes by contains a slight murmur of Sophocles’ voice. He wants everyone to keep an eye on him even if no one in the crowd understands why they can’t stop talking about this white-haired dancer.

As Sophocles gets closer, he flashes a more devious smirk, he's aware that he holds the cards. Tenebros has walked in quite willingly into his world. He's dancing to the beat, his steps going in Tenebros’ direction. He's gathering more attention and his lips are easily following the words flawlessly.

They were finally close enough to hear each other speak when a couple dances between them. They stop and have their arms around each other, kissing in time with the music.

There it was, in front of the opposing forces. Everything they could never do. They could only touch if something separated them. Kissing wasn’t even a possibility, let alone be together.

Tierra’s words from millennia ago reminded Tenebros that even if Sophocles learned to love him, it would always be doomed. They were too different. He realises it’s probably a bad idea to allow Sophocles see him. He's just going to get mocked, but he lets Sophocles see him anyway. He lets sadness flicker across his features for a moment as he looks between the couple and Sophocles. Then he wipes it away, and looks at Sophocles’ irritated expression.

"Pardon the interruption on your fun." Tenebros says to the pair.

“Excuse us,” Sophocles says, shoving them out of his way. He grabs Tenebros' hand and pulls him in dangerously close. The cockiness in his expression shows he’s pleased with the startled reaction he receives from Tenebros.

"What brings you here, handsome?" He asks coolly.

Tenebros feels flustered and can't stop the light grey blush which appears on his cheeks. He's glad he came heavily dressed for this situation, but he thought they would just accidentally bump into each other due to the crowd. He didn't think Sophocles would chance holding his hand or him!

The air around them felt electrified as he stifled his emotions, not wanting to show Sophocles exactly how much he affected him.

"I came here for you..." Tenebros swore internally, reminding himself that they were supposed to be enemies. "... To see how you're doing after your most recent defeat by my champions."

Sophocles let out a half amused huff. He moves his hands down to Tenebros' waist, pulling Tenebros a little closer as he continues swaying to the music. He starts purring his words as the songs go on.

"Mind dancing with me then? We can catch up on a lot more you know." He’s purposely ensured they stayed close, remaining the center of everyone’s attention.

Curse Sophocles for playing on his introverted tendencies. The crowd was looking at him expectantly to reciprocate Sophocles’ gesture. Tenebros didn’t want to cause a scene just to break away from the Light so he could think clearly. He had to somehow figure out a way to warn Sophocles about Sophia’s threats. If he ran now, he'd have to leave without a word.

Plus, they were never able to be this close and even if Sophocles was just playing with him again… At least Tenebros would have a moment to look back on and say he was in the arms of the person he loved.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Sophocles’ neck, “I don’t mind so long as that means you’ll listen for once.”

"Who says you get to say anything? This is my territory, remember? I hold all the cards," he whispered into Tenebros' ear. "Poor, little Tenebros flew right into the spider's web." The Darkness could practically hear the smirk in Sophocles’ voice. He pulled Tenebros closer into the crowd, taking the lead in the dance.

As the song switched over, he started purring the lyrics to Tenebros, knowing exactly the effect they'd have on him. This was way more fun than just talking after all. Whatever Tenebros had to say could wait until Sophocles had his fun.

Tenebros rationalised that the longer he was with Sophocles, the more time he’d be able to protect him from Sophia should she decide to show herself. He rolled his eyes at the little comment. Fate must be having a field day making him a foot shorter than his rival. As he let Sophocles guide him into the crowd, subconsciously getting closer to the Light as more people crowded around them.

The dark being had not heard Sophocles sing in ages, thus the blatant shock in his eyes as he heard the Light. This brought him back to happier times. Gods, his nightmares were going to include Sophocles’ angelic singing voice now, weren’t they? Tenebros sighed, resigning himself to his later pain and let Sophocles lead. Tenebros would let him have his fun and the music was good. They were between champions, the most damage he could do to Tenebros was manipulate Tenebros’ feelings like he had all those years ago.The lyrics are definitely getting to him, Sophocles sounded earnest and that he meant what he sang. Tenebros’ eyes filled with guilt and concern over Sophocles.

"You know I'm not a saint but I can make you pray. So get down on your knees, give me a reason I should stay." Sophocles sang to Tenebros, his voice weaving into the hypnotic tune.

He didn't like the look in Tenebros’ eyes. It struck a bit too close to his heart and played with the feelings he thought he buried. They were supposed to be dead. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea, but Sophocles hadn't sung in a very long time. He wasn't going to stop now.

He spun Tenebros around, making sure he ended up with his back against Sophocles’ chest, the devious smirk growing into a full blown grin. He may not be able to press his lips to Tenebros’ ear, but he got pretty damn close to sing, “If you think that you can save me, break me down, and tame me. Here's your chance to do some damage.”

Sophocles’ grin unsettled Tenebros because he didn't think it suited the former, despite the fact that he'd seen deviousness etched into Sophocles' features for centuries. Were these really the lyrics to the song? Tenebros thought they fit their current situation too well as he found himself speechless. His shoulders stiffened as he was spun around and leaned into Sophocles. He noted that he felt coolness coming off the light entity. It was nice since his body temperature kept him warm all the time, in fact he felt too warm right now. "Don't get it twisted cause, I could be really into us, Or I can leave you just because, because."

Okay, now Tenebros felt even hotter. This wasn't fair. Sophocles had to know he still had feelings for him if he was throwing those words at him. He had to know the easiest way to play with Tenebros was to mess with whatever heart he had left. He tried extremely hard to keep all of his emotions buried deep, under lock and key, but here was Sophocles just bringing them to the surface effortlessly. Tenebros cursed his eyes, they showcased too much; adding stars the better he felt, black holes for when he felt worse. They were probably a mixture of both right now, starry at the chance to dance and hear Sophocles sing. Then swirls of the abyss for his intense worry over Sophocles' safety, the guilt for starting their rift, the despair that they could never be.

When this song was over, he'd just tell Sophocles straight up about Sophia. Then the dark being would have to leave, lest he spill anything else Sophocles could use against him. It was one thing for the other to suspect Tenebros' affections and play on them. It would be a whole different game if the Light knew for certain the Dark loved him regardless.

Sophocles wasn't sure what to think about Tenebros at this moment. He hadn't seen the stars in the elder being's eyes in decades, so used to seeing the black holes that swirled angrily within the warm gold. He also didn't miss the sudden flush of heat from Tenebros. Was he enjoying this?

No, no, Tenebros wouldn't enjoy this. Not really. It's a nice break from all of their fighting, sure, but there's no way he would want to be around Sophocles outside of this. It's why this ‘disagreement’ started in the first place. The Dark wanted nothing to do with the Light.

“Trapped inside this madness, I know you wanna have this. So I can take advantage."

This probably hadn't been the best song choice, but Sophocles didn't control the mortals, he simply 'persuaded' them to do as he pleased. He continued dancing, turning Tenebros back to him, ensuring that the cruelly cocky smile didn't leave while he thought.

"When you touch me, you take me to heaven. When you hold me, my body is a weapon."

Sophocles rolled his eyes at the lyrics, noting how too close to home they were. That didn't stop him from holding Tenebros flush against him though. What better way to mess with the Dark than to push this as far as he could? If he got lucky, this would bother Tenebros enough to leave Sophocles to his own devices.

Tenebros wished he blushed like mortals, at least then he could blame the steady blush on his cheeks on the red lights. But of course Fate hated him, his greying cheeks making it obvious under each strobe of colour. He couldn't even try to focus on anything else in the crowd, he was completely rapt by Sophocles. He tried to center his attention on Sophocles' eyes, trying to read them since they were so close.

"Savage..."

Regardless of whether or not Sophocles meant any of the words, they made the Dark want to try. Try to mend the bridge between them, at least work towards a peace or mutual agreement to coexist. Sophia and Tierra were getting wilder in their schemes and Tenebros worried more for their plans than Sophocles'. Sophia spoke with a new brand of harshness about punishing his opposite and it unsettled him... Quite frankly, it angered him too. How dare she threaten Sophocles when he was a crucial part of the universe.

Tenebros leaned in to Sophocles naturally, somewhere his thoughts noted how well they fit together. He rested his hands on Sophocles' chest, one of them holding the edge of the vest the Light wore. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of being this close to Sophocles. Saying anything was probably going to end the moment, but Sophocles had to know. Tenebros couldn't let go of him until he had said his piece and was satisfied that Sophocles would take it seriously.

"I know you don't want to hear anything from me, but you should know that Sophia may be plotting to destroy you. Maybe with Tierra, I don't know. I just want you to know so you can be on your guard." The words came out rushed and worry had crept in by the third word.

How cruel of Fate. Make two beings that fit together, and yet, keep them apart for all eternity. Sophocles wanted to strangle Fate for this cruel design. The warning caused the smile to leave Sophocles' face as his eyes narrowed in irritation. He snapped the connection between him and the crowd, their interest in the two waning. Then he simply lead Tenebros towards the edge of the audience, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He didn't like the worry and concern that showed in Tenebros’ words. Whatever game the Dark had decided to play was far more cruel than his own. He just wanted to irritate Tenebros, not really trying to play with his feelings.

"You just couldn't enjoy the moment, could you? You just had to ruin it," he growled, running his hands through his bangs. He crossed his arms, his eyes becoming a darker red, the color of freshly spilled blood. Something he picked up on long ago. "Besides, wouldn't me disappearing be a good thing for you? Your little dolls would be perfectly safe until Tierra gets bored."

It confused him to hear Tenebros worry over him. If he's pretending, then he's becoming the perfect little copy of Sophia. If not, then maybe... No, what was he thinking? Tenebros doesn't care about him. If anything, he's more concerned with the balance of the universe. Typical.

"And has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I'm purposely pissing off those two? I'm not stupid, you know. I very well know how those two are reacting to me. But recklessness is in my nature, remember?" Sophocles didn't realize a sour, bitter note wrapped around his words, reminiscent of every other time these two forces met.

Nope, not today. He's not letting Sophocles get under his skin with this thinking. They were wasting their time talking around each other. "You've no idea how much I just wanted to enjoy the moment! But forgive me for knowing you’re unpredictable and wanting to make sure you knew you had a bigger target on your back than usual before you disappeared or something." Tenebros pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take a deep breath. They had to fight in close proximity to hear each other properly. A couple of drunks passed them, "Oooo, they're fighting like a couple in a rom- com!" Hardly. Tenebros fought back the urge to hiss at them, his gold eyes flashing.

The dark red unsettled Tenebros, "Damn it, Sophocles. I don't want you to disappear, so get that ridiculous thought out of your head! You don't want both of them after you. It's stupid to provoke them, why would you risk yourself when nothing keeps them entertained these days?"

"Someone hasn't been paying attention~" he sang, the smirk falling back into place. "It doesn't really matter if I piss off Sophia and Tierra. The worse they'll do is torture me in some way, and then I'll be put back to work."

He shrugged his shoulders before his eyes slid back to the crowd, which was excitedly welcoming the next song. Sophocles hummed along, his fingers tapping on his arm to the beat.

"Besides, dealing with my newest idea is making me lose it. I needed to get away from it for a moment, Sophia doesn’t mind."

His gaze slid back to Tenebros, who still had the look of a concerned parent. "Oh lighten up, Tenebros. Enjoy it while you can! Sophia and Tierra aren't planning to make another one of these hellholes for a while after this one's destruction. Once the Virus is freed, this world and all the dimensions will simply tear themselves apart."

"What?" Tenebros' face fell. His eyes wide in horror as the few stars in them died.

He was a prized idiot.

This was just a set up. Sophia had just been trying to get a reaction out of him and he'd certainly given her one. She just wanted Tenebros to see how far Sophocles had fallen into his role... Wanted to see how far he would go for the Light, well, now she had her answer.

Tenebros resisted the urge to lift his head and scan the balconies. If one or both of the goddesses were here, he didn't want to let them know he'd made them.

"You're in on it... All three of you are working together." The Dark entity put together out loud, hanging his head in his hands for a moment. He dragged them down into a prayer position below his chin. He was nowhere near praying though. Sophocles was clearly referring to the Evilswarm virus which had plagued all the duel tribes of old. It nearly destroyed them all to conquer the virus and eliminate. Now it was on the horizon again and everything Tenebros stood for was on the line.

Realising another thing, Tenebros reached his gloved hand out and touched Sophocles' chest, over his heart. His fingers were millimeters from Sophocles' bare skin. Now that his mind was clearer, he could feel the difference. There was no electrical charge between them, the air around them didn't heat up from the opposing forces sharing space.

Sophia was definitely here and she could lift their no touching rule whenever she pleased. She lied all those thousands of years ago about not being able to do anything... And Sophocles was on her side which meant that he knew that.

Tenebros put it all together that Sophocles really was just messing with him earlier. It must be Sophocles’ favourite trick to feign feeling for Tenebros. He met Sophocles' eyes and let the immense disappointment show. Disappointment in Sophocles, for banding together with their tormentors, but mostly in himself for letting him hope they could be anything more than enemies.

"Bingo~" Sophocles giggled, his smirk growing into a childish smile. "It's only natural that Tierra and I would work together, but you can imagine my surprise when Sophia wanted to go against you. This little fairy tale has been going on far too long."

It hurt to see the disappointment in Tenebros eyes, or did it? Half the time Sophocles couldn't even tell which were his thoughts and which were the Evilswarm. Oh well. It's not possible to do dirty work without getting dirty yourself.

"I was surprised to see that Sophia could lift that rule too. But she is quite the fickle goddess after all. Kindness has never been her forte either."

At that point, Sophocles had started swaying to the music yet again, softly singing the lyrics to himself.

"And if I fall, I fall with you. My veins are what you're running through, through through, through. And now I'm fucked up."

He closed his eyes, the childish smile back on his face as he swayed. He had no doubt that both goddesses were watching. Tierra and Sophia would be foaming at the mouth if they had missed this.

"Come on, T. Just let go of this cycle, and we can go back to normal. Just you, me, Tierra, and Sophia!"

It hurt even more to hear Sophocles admit he was just messing with him now that the ‘no touch’ rule was gone. Tenebros stood frozen watching the Light sway. The Dark barely had a heart and now he could feel it shattering again. It did this every time he saw Sophocles and knew he had to leave. Had to carry on, knowing it was practically impossible to mend the damage between them.

Tenebros’ existence was just one cruel realisation after another. Now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to fight against three immortals when the next champions came around.

The hand on Sophocles’ chest clenched into a fist, taking the fabric with it as Tenebros pulled Sophocles down to him. If they could touch for the moment, the Darkness would abuse it to allow himself a selfish act. He cupped Sophocles face with his other hand and pressed their foreheads together. With all the energy he could muster through his heartache, he channeled a protective aura around them, trying to will Sophocles to really listen.

“Do what you want, Sopho, just don’t trust either of them at all. Betrayal is written in those two's beings... I won’t stand idly by this time. If you’re all going to band together, then the least I can do is give you all the fight of our existences… Look after yourself, please.” Tenebros’ voice shook a bit, but it was still strong.

Slowly, he let go of Sophocles and took steps backwards. Of course he’d been dragged to the edge on the opposite side of the exit and the room was packed now. He turned from the light being, forcing himself to rip his eyes away, and started his way through the crowd toward the exit.

No one wanted to move out of Tenebros' way. Despite his short stature, he found it hard to push through the sea of people. Everyone wanted to be as close to the stage as possible and didn't appreciate the dark being just trying to leave. He swore as he heard his name barked in irritation.

"Tenebros!"

Of course the crowd wouldn't let him pass, Sophocles was manipulating them not to. Why now of all times was he choosing to run after Tenebros? Out of all the countless other moments he fled the Light, the most he'd ever gotten in response was cursing and name calling. The crowd parted for Sophocles quickly and he caught up to the dark entity. The crowd closed back around them as the Light encircled his arms around around the Dark and made them face each other.

"What the fuck kind of answer was that? You can't just walk away from this." Sophocles snarled. He was probably expecting Tenebros to be obstinate, defiant, chastise him.

But Tenebros couldn't find the will to even look Sophocles in the eye. Instead he hid his face in the Light's chest, his hands bunched in the folds of Sophocles’ shirt.

“Now our bodies moving in slow motion, yeah. I know you didn't ask for it, I know you didn't need my love, You thought you were immune to it…”

These songs were not helpful in the least. They didn't sway or move, just existing in that moment.

Why did it have to be so damn hard to walk away from him? Tenebros was hyper aware of their differences and all the reasons why he shouldn't give Sophocles the time of day. And yet… he still let his mind think ridiculous thoughts. Why can't he and Sophocles just stop fighting and run away? Or at least they could band together and find a way to get rid of the goddesses. Less torment for everyone.

Tenebros couldn't find the words, so he borrowed the lyrics from the song Sophocles enchanted him with earlier, "Give me a reason I should stay."

He felt Sophocles stiffen around him.

“Why should I, it's obvious isn't it? It's like I said everything can go back to how it was.”

Tenebros pulled back, taking the risk to look at Sophocles. For once, it looked like the Light being was a little confused as his eyes searched Tenebros’ for answers. The words came out before he could stop them.

“I want more than that.”

Now Sophocles looked very puzzled. There were a lot of ways to interpret what the Darkness meant. Tenebros felt the arms around him tighten.

“T, that’s not very descriptive. I can say I want more than the destruction of the universe, and you could still find a million ways to fulfill that,” Sophocles reasoned, trying to understand how he was supposed to answer. “What could you possibly want more than to go back to how everything was?”

“I want us… to be more… than that.” Tenebros admitted quietly, not even certain Sophocles would be able to hear him over the music. Simply saying the words out loud made the dark being's head spin. He immediately wanted to take them back. He was letting on too much and he already knew the Light didn't reciprocate, there was no point in trying. Gods, he hoped it wasn't plain on his face. Tenebros moved his gaze from Sophocles’ eyes to his lips.

Sophocles didn’t catch what Tenebros said, instead looking off towards one of the balconies. He could already tell Sophia was going to have his head for haou long this was taking. He turned his gaze back to Tenebros, sighing. The longer this took, the more likely Sophocles would end up with a punishment from the goddesses and a migraine from the virus.

“Tenebros please, just give up on this damn cycle and come back where you belong. With the Goddesses and with me.”

“I don't want anything to do with those two.” Tenebros said, agitation creeping in at the mention of the goddesses, “I belong with you, just you, Sopho. Regardless of which of us wins. I want it to be you and I standing at the end of this.”

The bands lights started an intense strobe effect which made the crowd jump and dance with joy. It also caused momentary moments of pitch black, limiting everyone's sight.

“SHIT!” Sophocles swore, his grip on Tenebros tightening subconsciously. The Light couldn’t see two feet in front of his face, especially in this kind of darkness. It didn’t matter how old he was, Sophocles wasn’t fond of any form of darkness without Tenebros. While they were enemies, Sophocles couldn’t help keeping Tenebros flush against his body, pouting. “I swear, I’m gonna kick Sophia’s ass for this. I’m sick of her little games.”

Tenebros sighed as he raised his voice to account for the increased volume of the crowd, “Sophocles did you hear me? I'm not giving up on this cycle, but I'm not giving up on you either. You know those two are just going to betray you and I think you and I could rise against them-”

The concert went pitch black, save for three blue spotlights on the band as the tune they sang became more melancholic than upbeat. Plenty of people applauded as they recognised the song. No one could really see anything, save for Tenebros. He snaked his arms around Sophocles and held tight to the Light as the crowd pressed forward to be closer to the stage.

A short growl came from Sophocles when Tenebros spoke. “Drop it, would you? You should know by now that going against Sophia and Tierra isn’t going to accomplish anything.” As they moved closer to the stage, Sophocles rolled his eyes, the virus snapping at him for allowing the Dark that close. “Tenebros, I’m going to hit you if you don’t let go. I have other places to be, chaos to start, lives to ruin. And I can’t do any of it if you plan on just holding me.”

Damn it, Sophocles was dead once he was back with the Goddesses. No doubt Tierra would start poking at the newest cracks in his disguise, and Sophia would probably wring his neck for taking so long. How wonderful. He attempted to remove the Dark’s arms as best as he could while essentially blind. Instead, he found himself even closer to Tenebros, causing a blush of his own to appear, cooling the temperature of the air around them.

“You're the one who ran after and grabbed me, remember?” Tenebros reminded the Light, his breath hitching at their proximity, able to see perfectly in the dark. “I've staved off you three by myself for some time. Imagine if we teamed up against them, Sopho, no more roles. No more rules. Why go back to being under their mercy? Just us presiding over everything… together, side by side.”

As he spoke, the Dark used the arms around Sophocles’ to pull them closer still. Their faces inches apart. While they were still shrouded in his element, Tenebros stood on his tiptoes to close the gap between their lips. His body heat skyrocketed as he pressed his lips gently to Sophocles'. Somewhere in his head, he was screaming at himself for being so utterly stupid and reckless. Another part of his mind made Tenebros slide one of his hands to cradle Sophocles’ face.

Sophocles’ mind went blank attempting to process what was happening. Tenebros was kissing him. Actually kissing. Some part of the Light’s mind screamed at him to pull away, to push Tenebros off and run away. But some small part urged him to kiss back. Surely, Sophia and Tierra wouldn’t know if he did, right?

You know what? To hell with what the Goddesses thought, Sophocles didn’t know if he would ever get this chance again. So, tentatively, he moved his arms around Tenebros’ neck, one hand moving to inter-tangle with the Dark’s hair. He gently pressed into the kiss, uncertain if Tenebros would pull away, all while the Evilswarm screeched its displeasure. The Light fully ignored it, determined to get lost in Tenebros’ touch while he had the chance.

When the dark being felt Sophocles kiss him back and move his hands, Tenebros deepened the kiss. His mind was a complete wreck as his romantic feelings for Sophocles returned in full force. He didn't care if his feelings weren't truly reciprocated, his first kiss was still Sophocles’. Tenebros hummed at feeling the Light's fingers in his hair. They'd never been able to touch skin to skin and now here they were kissing. Seriously kissing one another.

Tenebros breathed Sophocles’ nickname between kisses, somehow finding a way to press himself closer to the other. He had no intention of breaking the kiss, he would stand there with his lips against Sophocles’ for as long as possible. For this moment, he could pretend everything was fine, that they were just two boys at a concert letting themselves get swept up in each other. For this instance, Tenebros could call himself Sophocles’. Even if this was all they ever had, it could fuel Tenebros for another millennia. He wasn't going to give up on Sophocles, not when they kissed each other like this.

Sophocles melted at Tenebros saying his nickname, the one he hadn’t heard in decades. It warmed his very soul and easily washed away the screeching of the virus. His free hand found its way to Tenebros’ sweater, holding on as if the Dark being was his only lifeline. He started murmuring Tenebros’ name between kisses, switching between his full name and his nickname.

As the kisses got deeper, Sophocles nipped at Tenebros’ bottom lip, with a soft hum. He couldn’t help how needy he got, Sophocles truly didn’t know if he’d get this chance again, and he planned on making full use of it.

Involuntarily almost, Tenebros let out a little whimper and opened his mouth for Sophocles. Both of his hands gripped Sophocles’ neck now, desperately trying to hold on to this feeling with the light being. His name kept slipping past Tenebros’ lips, his voice painted with want and need. He knew this wouldn't last forever with the goddesses watching from the wings. Who knew what they would do if they saw them? Who knew if their plan was get Sophocles to be the honey trap to lure Tenebros to their side? He didn't want to leave Sophocles’ with those two, but he knew it would take more than kissing to sway the Light to switch sides.

Sophocles had just slipped his tongue into Tenebros’ mouth, his hands moving to cradle the Dark’s face. He also tilted Tenebros’ head back slightly, deepening the kiss and stroking the scar on the elder’s cheek.

Although, Tenebros wasn't sure how strong he could be if Sophocles asked him to stay again after this. This is why them being involved in this of all times was dangerous. Tenebros’ love for Sophocles was his biggest weakness. It would probably only take Sophocles several meaningful words to convince Tenebros to let it all go.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Tenebros wouldn't have to make that decision. At the moment the music crescendo, the concert hall was flooded with bright, white light. The intensity made Tenebros wince and hide his face in Sophocles’ neck. He hated breaking his connection with the light being, but the intense brightness threw him off. Now Tenebros was flooded with fear and anxiety at what Sophocles’ reaction would be.

Once the lights flared up, Sophocles’ pouted when Tenebros pulled away, only to give a small whine as Tenebros burrowed into his neck. Just why was he so sensitive there? How long has he been sensitive right there? Sophocles’ mind continued to wander, rendering him oblivious to the rising temperature between Tenebros and him. He ran his hand through Tenebros’ hair, trying to coax him into showing his face again. As his hand touched the Dark’s skin, Sophocles’ eyes widened and he pushed Tenebros away in pain.

“FUCK!!” No no nononono this means Sophia’s had enough and Tenebros needs to get out of there. Now.

Tenebros recoiled from Sophocles, hissing at the familiar pain. He met the Light's gaze with his own wide eyes which revealed the vast amount of stars which had accumulated. Of course now that Tenebros realised what was happening, they were starting to fade. Sophia had caught them and that was it.

“Sopho, I-”

A chilling female laugh filled the space, effectively interrupting the Dark. The concert continued around the immortals as if nothing was amiss.

Tenebros’ cheeks were still darkened with a dark grey blush and he could still taste Sophocles. He already missed sharing breath with the light being and certainly didn't want to leave him now.

“Well, well, well… look who has decided to grace us with his shadowy presence.” Rang out the voice of Sophia who was throwing her voice so the two male immortals couldn't pinpoint her.

“T, you need to leave. Now. Before she actually tries something,” Sophocles whispered, looking away from the Dark being. Gods above, why didn't he just let Tenebros go? Why did Sophocles force him to stay?

“My, you've lost your manners, haven't you Sophocles? Telling that pest to leave without giving proper greetings to Sophia and I?”

Tierra didn't even attempt to hide, watching the two entities from the side of the crowd, a wide teeth-baring smile resting on his face. “Dear Sophia, it seems like we caught the children out past curfew~” he growled, his eyes half lidded.

Sophocles had made eye contact with the God of Destruction, and he refused to break it. “Go now, T. Tierra's has been vying for the chance to tear you to shreds.” Fear and concern slipped into his voice as he motioned for Tenebros to go.

“You're right, Tierra dearest. Seems we'll have to think of appropriate punishments for both of them. Something special to suit each of their misdeeds.” Sophia spoke in a pseudo sweet voice. She still hid among the crowd, purposefully, always with a dramatic flare.

Tenebros cursed himself for not having just teleported he and Sophocles away when the lights went out. He had so many things he wanted to say after what just happened. He resented that their reality was he had to leave without the man he was in love with. Now the goddesses were relying on Tenebros to stick to his nature and not make a scene. To not mess with mortals. He wasn't exactly surprised Tierra wanted to tear him apart, Tierra was that way with practically everybody.

The Dark had an idea on how to get himself out, thanks to this band's lighting cues. There was no time to argue Tenebros stepped as close as he dared to Sophocles, so even if Sophia appeared next them, only the Light could hear. His short stature allowed Sophocles to keep his scarlet eyes on Tierra.

“Leaving you here will be the hardest thing I've ever done, second only to leaving you before this whole mess started with me not believing you over these evil crones. I should've picked you then. Know that, Sopho.” His voice was shaky, it held more emotion in it then he'd used in decades, but he was dead serious. Tenebros was a little teary, but he blinked them back. With his senses cast out, Tenebros found a fire alarm and pulled it.

Immediately, the venue erupted into chaos as the sprinklers’ ice cold water fell on the crowd. Within a few seconds, the water reached the sound and light board. Terrific electronic screeches sounded from the speakers and the lights flickered and defaulted to the strobe strobe setting before casting the venue in darkness.

The crowd went in every direction taking Tenebros away from Sophocles. In the pitch black, he shifted into his formless mist and sneaked through the crowd, unable to be caught in this form.

Sophocles flinched in response to the sudden makeshift rain, internally swearing when the lights went out. “Wait, T! Fuck, this would have been easier if you have left beforehand,” he growled in frustration. Why did Tenebros say that? What was his reasoning for it? All it did was confuse Sophocles even more. And he's tired of being confused. Tired of being left out of the loop when Tenebros is involved.

He started feeling for a wall to situate himself when a harsh voice spoke next to him.

“I wasn't expecting him to leave you all alone, Sophocles. How cruel of him.” The next thing the Light knew, Tierra grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him over to where Sophia sat, unbothered by the events seconds before. She looked as pretty as a picture, not a single hair out of place, whereas Tierra looked as if he had just finished physically fighting someone. His hair was wild, his clothes in slight disarray. They made the perfect dysfunctional couple.

“My bad Sophia. The problem child got away. But we have the next best thing as always. Tenebros’ personal favorite. Especially since he got rather handsy with dear Sophocles,” Tierra snarled, the sound ripping from his throat. Yeah, Tierra was pissed. That was the perfect opportunity to get rid of the Gentle Darkness. To bring back the fear of the unknown and the secrets held by the long dark nights.

“Don't you worry, that chaotic mind of yours Tierra. If my fellow little creator refuses to see reason and let go of this dollhouse. Then we just resume our plans. Tenebros will out of our way soon enough. In fact I think I have a few new ideas on just how to hasten the Gentle Darkness to his downfall.” Sophia insisted, looking Sophocles up and down. She stood up in one fluid, graceful motion to approach the destructive immortals. She grabbed Sophocles’ jaw roughly.

“Who would have thought you could work things out after all this time? Did you confess to him again? Looks like it worked out better than last time, but not enough to sway him...” Sophia giggled. Her tone sounded like she was talking to one of her favourite dolls instead of a sentient being. “Such a shame, I was going to let you keep him too after we erased everything.”

#decayshipping #gentle darkness #light of Destruction #tenebros darkness #sophocles light #slow burn #ygo nt #ygo gx #confuzzeledpanda #bahari #savage #mun writes #ygo neo terminal #Decay mums

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andranikolayi · 7 years

Text

Sonic Protest 2016 Part II

for The Attic Magazine

April in Paris

Parisian weather had always been capricious, to say the least, but during the festival week it seemed like someone was pushing the rain and sunshine buttons at random.

April in the city sure didn't have the romantic nostalgia of the Van Duke song, rather bursts of joy followed by frustrated fits. However, the fury of the elements didn't seem to intimidate the crowd, that still showed up for the events in healthy numbers.

Although the chestnuts were not yet in blossom, the feeling of spring renewal was in the air: people had an added gait to their step and sometimes even smiled. There was a certain joy reflected in the blooming trees and side road daffodils, with the promise of picnics in Buttes Chaumont and wine along the Seine.

During the moody afternoon of the second day, I enjoyed a brief moment of sunbathing in the unlikely small park by Chatelet between an interview with Erik Minkinnen in the 6th arrondisement and the sound check at Saint Merry.

Centered by four large speakers, Joachim Montessuis was struggling to get acoustics of the church to succumb to his massive drones. The entire building was resonating with his earthy drones. The sound was so powerful that a couple of strangers walking by the church stopped by to inquire about what was going on inside, intrigued by the sonic out pour.

The metal heads from Aluk Todolo were walking around the sun-drenched church, taking advantage of its impressive decor by posing for what looked like subversive band photos.

However, the long-awaited AMM reunion was all everyone could talk about; how they haven't performed together in almost 20 years, how this would be their first show in France as a trio, how strained or not their relationship really was...

Gwen, the PR person, was telling me how hard it was for her to find a photo of the three of them together for the event. No wonder they looked so young and handsome- the picture was taken in 1974!

Soon, Eddie Prevost and Keith Rowe appeared, accompanied by his wife. They came to check out the venue before the sound check. They seemed to have lost John Tilbury, again.

When he finally showed up, he seemed to take more pleasure in chatting up the young lady in charge of programming at Saint Merry than hang out with his band mates.

After their setup, I tried to urge them to pose for a group photo; while Eddie and Keith quickly complied, John was nowhere to be found. He then showed up eating a piece of cake. In the end Eddie managed to bring everyone back together and for 30 seconds he managed to keep the group together. It was almost show time.

The Magic Hour

The crowd started taking their seats, quietly. The church looked less crowded than the previous night. However historical the AMM reunion might have been, it didn't seem to produce the same amount of hype as William Basinski's presence. While the free improv and jazz crowds can be very devoted, this type of music doesn't really cater to the young and hip demographic as much.

It was almost 8.30; the last rays of sunshine were still pouring in through the stained glass. Two large, golden panels were hanging from the ceiling behind the improvised stage in the choir's nook.

The panels were catching some of the light of the setting sun, bathing the church in a beautiful yellow glow.

Photographers call that time of day the magic hour, when the light naturally has this beautiful, warm tinting. Terrence Malik even shot an entire movie using only this kind of lighting and called it Days of Heaven. There certainly is a special sort of sentiment associated with this time.

The crowd waited patiently. There was still light out when the band finally took to the stage, welcomed by a pious yet vigorous set of applause. You could sense a special type of worshiping taking place, the church growing more quiet than a field on a snowy day.

I had a strange feeling of déjà vu watching Tilbury at the golden-framed piano; I then recalled seeing him perform at CAC Bretigny about three years ago, in a gallery space covered in the same space foil.

The three sure did take advantage of the self-imposed silence, starting their set as quietly as possible, as if testing the limits of the audience. John was clacking the small cover of the piano before touching the keys, while Eddie was gently caressing his drums and Keith barely turning on his guitar amp. This fragile web of sound and silence was soon interrupted by an unexpected yet familiar presence: someone was playing the melody from the Pink Panther outside the church, probably one of those street musicians you see around the Kandinsky fountain. The theme was hauntingly disturbing. While many may see it as an intrusion that ruined their set, I think it was more of a way to welcome the outside world into their session, like John Cage opening a window to the New York traffic noise. This familiar yet distorted melody brought an interesting contrast to the beginning of their almost silent set, emphasizing the kind of barely there sound they were challenging.

Slowly, the sound grew denser, becoming more organic by the minute. The golden panels were gently swaying, moved by an invisible breeze. The church was dark now, illuminated by a couple of yellow lights. Despite their dynamic in real life, their stage presence was flawless, weaving a complex form of abstract narrative together. You felt transported into a world of pure sound, where instruments became real natural elements, taking a life of their own. It was just like everything you ever heard done in the realm of free improvisation, but with a freshness that revealed their incredible skill and constant curiosity toward music. When done poorly, any extra minute of an improv concert can feel excruciating. In AMM's case, the 50-odd minutes flew by unnoticed.

The light reflected on the golden panels made it seem as if the magic hour was taking place inside the church; that or just the surprisingly warm feeling generated by this atonal, adventurous music.

A Large, Resonating Space

It was hard to come back to Earth after AMM's mesmerizing set. The evening a different turn after their powerfully gentle showcase of improv virtuosity.

The seating was quickly cleared out for Joachim Montessuis' set, as if his drones needed the physical space as well in order to roam freely. He started unleashing his noisy drones to a slightly more compact crowd, eager to take in the powerful sound.

With the aid of a guitar and electronics, he was slowly building a wall of noise. You could hear the influence of doom drone masters Sun O))) in his sound, especially in the way the music was trying to take over the entire space.

Huddled inside this cocoon, the audience entered a state of deep listening, getting more comfortable with the overpowering sound as it kept going around the church. He had chosen a very particular way of propagating his drones, inducing a sort of flowing wave pattern in favor of the more compact approach usually employed in this niche.

The entire church became a large, resonating box and, just as during sound check, it was almost more interesting to witness from outside than within. I was about a dozen teenagers knocking at the church door, trying to make their way inside, puzzled and excited by this sonic force. It sure made for a confusing and comical experience.

Unfortunately, not the same can be said about Aluk Todolo, the rockers everyone seemed excited to see. While their set promised the sort of confrontational approach inspired by Joachim's music, their more metal-oriented endeavor fell pretty flat.

Some blame this underachievement on the lack of a more frontal, confrontational space, claiming their set would have worked better in a tighter venue such as Les Instants, while others brought up tensions within the band. Either way, it looked more like much ado about nothing.

An Evening With the Prince of Darkness

The third night was fast approaching, featuring local legends Sister Iodine and new wave legend Martin Rev from Suicide. You could feel the crowd brimming with anticipation.

I arrived early, hoping to spend a little more time with the other members of Sister Iodine, after my lengthy discussion with Erik the day before.

The night's venue, La Parrole Errante, took the party back into the hip suburb of Montreuil, also known as the Williamsburg of Paris. The space is an enormous open hall with tall ceilings and no windows, painted black. It has the austerity and scale you would normally associate with techno parties. Surprisingly, it doesn't host raves but poetry nights.

The place is so big that even during a sold out night with the large main stage, the sound stage in the middle and label booths in the back, it still remains a third empty.

The backstage is as industrial and democratic as the concert venue, with large tables for the bands and crew in a loft-like space. I was hoping to get a few shots of the band together, but the only one I managed to steal was during the pre-show recon session with the sound engineer. Trios have a strange dynamic: the members easily break into duos and solos. Just like in AMM's case, the guys seemed more preoccupied with their own thing – Nicolas with his girlfriend, Lionel with his Ricard and Erik busy scribbling lyrics for his set, papers that always get stolen by fans, he said.

If you will, Sister Iodine are like the Sonic Youth of France; came up over 20 years ago with an unique sound ahead of their time, had a huge influence on the local scene, did countless collaborations and solo projects and have very devoted, cult-like following. That is if Sonic Youth were a self-destructive, highly nihilistic trio with a penchant for the occult. However, the most remarkable thing about them is how down to earth and approachable they are in real life. If you saw them hanging out, you wouldn't be able to anticipate the sort of self-devouring fire they manage to conjure on stage. They're almost jolly drinking buddies.

Their set oscillates between deep, dark drones and desperate, consumed howls, all guided by a deeply ritualistic drumming.

There is something utterly cathartic happening on stage, a sort of contagious energy that envelops the crowd, as if possessed. Besides the regular head banging, I witnessed the most exuberant forms of dancing to dark music I could ever imagine. There was a lot of jumping and turning around in circles, but the most touching moment was this couple at the very back of the room trying out a sort of interpretative modern choreography. Actually, it was the girl showing the guy a set of slow, large moves, encouraging him to create his own special dance.

I spent the rest of the night following Erik, hoping to finally do the little band photo shoot I was promised. Only the members seemed to disperse even more after the show than before.

I wasn't very impressed with Somaticae's set, which felt like the compulsory moment of analogue techno they squeeze in every year, probably done by some Cergy alumni. I was telling Erik I don't agree with this gratuitous destruction to which he replied, visibly excited ''Oh, but this guy sounds really good! We're brothers into destruction!''. In this light, I decided to stay on and give it another chance, although my intuition felt about right when even my dark techno-loving friends concluded that he just ''had his moments'''.

The biggest disappointment of the evening was yet to come. The mostly younger crowd was still riled up from the previous set when Martin Rev came on stage. Dressed in a tight vinyl tank top and pants giving him a wet look, Martin started banging on his keyboard trying to create some form of agitation. He had that ''I couldn't care less'' attitude with his Oakley 100 C neon-green cyclist sunglasses and matching belt, yet you could obviously tell he was feeding off the crowd as much as he despised them. It was the old ''hate them and they'll love you trick''.

Musically, his overflowing set had the same douche-y bravado, performing over an hour of mishmash ranging from Latin, funk and jungle to bad 80s cheesiness. You felt like you were in front of a legend, for sure, but more someone who was just a carcass of their former glory like late, Las Vegas Elvis rather than a true master.

With his gut spilling out of his shiny suit and clearly stardom-stung attitude, the comparison didn't seem far-fetched.

With his ruffled hair, ill-fitting suit and hunchbacked pose, Erik Minkinnen was the true Prince of Darkness, hiding an all-consuming fire inside his humble figure.

Totems, Fetishes and Dance Lessons

While the weather still couldn't seem to make up its mind between rain or shine, Saturday quickly ushered in the last big concert night of the festival. The newly formed rainbow visible from the venue's yard was a beautiful omen for this celebratory evening.

We were promised a particularly festive night and I felt was more than ready to dance it all off.

My host Nicolas was equally excited for the evening, which he described to me briefly saying ''oh, Api Uiz is always good, Circle are this cult metal band which should be interesting, I saw Quintron before and he's amazing and Konono is well...Konono''.

I have to admit I was mostly looking forward to the big Konono finale, but I trusted Nicolas' taste enough to keep an open mind for the rest of the evening.

Api Uiz are another French veteran band doing this instrumental dance-rock with Celtic, punk and Latin influences. While the crowd seemed pretty into it, the constant energy plunge felt slightly too brutal for an opener. They had a fun vibe, but it would have probably worked better if it was 30 minutes shorter.

Circle made for a very entertaining show, taking a page from old rock'n'roll dress codes and sporting fetish gear, fishnet stockings and other glam rock paraphernalia. A friend of mine was utterly annoyed by their music but gave them props for upstaging Steven Tyler in the costume department. Their sort of self-deprecating, humorous approach was something to be appreciated both in the metal world and for musicians in general.

I can't say I was swiped off my feet by their music, but watching them climb over their instruments and goofing around was pretty engaging. It made for the true oddball moment the festival is famous for.

Although the true moment of pure weirdness was in Quintron and Miss Pussycat's set.

Even Princesses Are Renting

Don't know if there's something in the water in New Orleans, but the cultural melting pot can breed some particularly strange hybrids.

Such is the case with Quintron and Miss Pussycat, giving an excellent example of DIY done right. After Circle's display of Scandinavian metal marchioness, the stage was taken over by a big, colorful cube that looked as if some sort of monster vomited out the fabric section of a thrift store. What looked like a flowery colorful blob soon turned out to be a stage! The lights went on, small curtains were pulled away and the show began. With puppets.

Only in their case there was nothing innocent about the fairy tale. Ok, it had talking cloud and mountains and starred a blonde young lady by the name of Princess Diamond Sky Riverdale who was also The Chosen One, with a crown and everything. Oh, the beloved trope of the fairy tale! But, instead of the classic prince charming scenario, Miss Pussycat, assisted by Quintron on voice and sound effects, weaved a modern fable on contemporary living which, despite the surreal setting, felt uncomfortably real.

Let's just say that Princess Diamond Sky Riverdale was more of a Hannah Horvath/Frances Ha character than a khaleesi – she wants to move to Goblinsberg and needs a place to live. A parade of houses ensues: we have a horrifying sky scraper with metal teeth that asks for a ridiculous amount of gold for a one-bedroom, with draconian clauses. Unfortunately, that sort of real estate abuse is too much even for a princess. A friendly house follows, only to reveal that she has no more room left and her walls are also gone. She then meets with the mayor, the skyscraper's girlfriend and tries to work out a deal. Things don't really go as planned, as how could you trust a goblin with a pointy witches hat who clearly wants your crown? But I won't spoil it for you. Let's just say the development is well...pretty unexpected. In a good way.

This story pretty much resonates with anyone who's ever tried to find sensible accommodation in the Big City, be it London, Paris or Wiliamsburg.

A feathered fan and that weird light bulb thing

The show really takes off with Quintron getting behind his one-man-orchestra setup of DIY instruments and handmade electronics. He sits behind a table complete with car lights and a bobble head holding the American flag, gently swaying with the beat.

I'm slightly embarrassed that I haven't heard about them before, since they seem to embody everything I love about experimental music – unique sounds, handmade instruments, a real penchant for dancing and wacky theatrics to boot!

What followed could only be described as very, very delirious dance music; it had the type of infectious energy that I only seen at Gang Gang Dance live right around Saint Dhyphma. The perfect blend of experimental out-there-ness coupled with a very primal understanding of rhythm, causing an almost instant desire to dance. Of course, it was all from the fringes of the alternative/indie realm rather than club music, but it was one of those instances when people from a more rock-oriented background embraced the unrestrained power of percussion and electronics. The crowd was still a bit taken aback, as French audiences usually are, feeling a bit apprehensive before surrendering to the groove. Luckily, as during all my good dancing-concert experiences, there was an outgoing American girl jumping and shouting in the front row with her SO. In this type of situation, having someone who's super into it and not afraid to show it makes for a great icebreaker.

My ultra-fan was sporting a hawk feather, native-American style and was singing along to the mostly mumbled choruses about alligators, cats and other creatures. And, added bonus, she was probably twice the age of the drunk Brit broads and American Indierellas you could spot at Point Ephemere and Glazart among the front-row dancing crowd.

There was screaming, lots of intricate button-pushing and more dancers coming out of their shells.

By the end of their set, it felt like the party could have gone on all night. The crowd had clapped yearning for more, in spite of Quintron's exhausted but happy smile. He was shirtless and drenched in sweat.

The duo has been at it for over fourteen years and the result is a tightly-knit display of playful craziness, in all its colorful glory. Quintron is sitting behind his car front table, banging on a drum, while a series of loops are playing, pitching a lap steel guitar and singing, while Miss Pussycat is playing the maracas in a neon asymmetrical dress and adding vocals as well. It's hard to make out his full setup from the front row, but I caught a glimpse of a cardboard turning bass device and what can only be described as ''that weird light bulb thing''. It's funny that my friend Jim, who was already familiar with their work and had seen them in Michigan suggested I should approach them and ask about the light bulb machine, as he never talks about it.

With a little research, I found out it was actually a handmade synthesizer he invented as part of a museum residency in New Orleans. It modulated the sound according to the light from the bulb and has a touch element for control that works very similarly to DJ scratching. They're called Drum Buddies and you can even get one yourself!

Reading more about their projects after the show I found many more fascinating things, including an interview scheduled during the eye of a hurricane and a device designed by Quintron that transforms your house into a weather-controlled healing drone machine.

This joyous display of unbounded creativity left me with that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you encounter the rare kind of beautiful dreamers that still exist. They create that fascinating blend of genres that leaves them impossible to pin down. The term most often used to describe their sound is swamp-tech. While that might sound quite reductive, it captures their Mississippi weirdness and dance floor roots nicely.

They sure were the discovery of the festival for me; I still can't help smiling thinking about their show.

Now those white kids need to watch and learn!

We all knew Saturday was the last big night of the festival; the exhaustion was seeping into the stage crew, but everyone soldiered on, excited about the most anticipated act of the evening – Konono No1!

After a long evening of dance teasing, it was finally THE moment we've all been waiting for; it almost felt like this is what the entire festival has been steadily preparing us for, taking us through a dark, emotional journey only to reward us with exuberant Congo drums for our patience. The entire date was planned as the ''fun night'' of the festival, although the real fun only began about halfway through Quintron's set.

I took another swig of whiskey and headed to secure my front row position before the band got onstage. Unlike the other interludes, many others have taken the same precaution. I could spot them from the backstage, waiting to make their entrance. A group of people that looked completely ordinary, much like the type you would see on your commute on line 13 or near my friend's house in Saint Denis. This sort of average appearance rendered them strangely relate-able. After all, those were the Congo superstars, THE group who toured the world and played with everyone who's anyone. Like many other teenagers, I discovered their music quite late, spotting them among Bjork's collaborators in 2007, a time when The Ex did not have a meaning for me yet. I may have seen a few of them on stage with her during that tour. Maybe on my first trip to Paris for her set at Rock en Seine? Or maybe not, since I recall being bummed they didn't open for her at that show we drove 12 hours to in Istanbul.

Something had come full circle in this musical journey and now the show was about to begin. The audience exploded as they went on stage, cheering and applauding with a very non-characteristic enthusiasm. Maybe it was Quintron's warm up; or just the sheer uncontrollable joy in anticipation of what was yet to come. The show was sold out.

The group started with the leader, Augustin Makuntima Mawangu, slightly nervous, greeting us in French with a full smiling face. He's probably still adjusting to his new position, since his father, the founder of the group, passed away merely a year before. Everyone was in position, waiting for his signal.

Then Pauline Mbuka Nsiala, the lady of the group, started working what looked like an art brut interpretation of a cowbell cluster and the ceremony began.

I can't quite describe what happened after; it's very hazy, lost between the arms and legs of fellow dancers intertwined, avoiding bears and piling on the coats of the newcomers, trying to move closer to the action. It spread like wildfire, leaving no survivors in sight. Within ten minutes, everyone and I mean everyone was dancing.

Twenty, five and forty-year-olds alike were taking the syncopated beat all in, often in spite of their bodies; it was as if they couldn't resist the urge for dancing but their members somewhat still had to catch up. They were out of sync, not really knowing how to move their arms and legs properly. They were jumping, swaying, raising their arms up in the air, or desperately trying to fit their club moves into the 140bpm orgy. Yet they were all dancing, dancing with the glorious abandon white people rarely get unless they're heavily intoxicated. They were beautiful in their awkwardness. And probably it would have felt less out of place if you didn't spot the few black dancers in the audience who seemed to know exactly how to move to this music. Not with their hands or legs in desperate agitation, but with full control and grace, letting the hips and torso move seamlessly.

But nobody was really paying attention to them; Pauline was stealing the show on stage, exhibiting the authentic way of dancing which had magically un-dislocated hip written all over it.

I was probably the only one looking at the other dancers, feeling uncomfortable in my white girl lack of coordination.

Yet nobody seemed to care, entranced by the music, continuing to move, shout and sway, hypnotized.

Even that stuffy guy who ruins the show by posting himself up front, in primo dance territory with an annoyingly big zoom lens felt like he needed to pay his dues to the dance god and was lightly swaying while swapping cameras.

Augustin talked for another couple of couple of minutes, telling the audience how they have traveled the world and have seen so many incredible places on their journey and they were headed to Florida next, before introducing they new tune, Kuna America, from their collaboration with Batida.

The result was not much different from the rest of their repertoire, the brief intermission soon melting back into the drums/bells/whistles/likembé vortex sweeping everyone off their feet.

I left my suffocating spot to get a better look at the crowd; the dancing was endemic. It was pure joy to see the staff members coming over the fence, happily celebrating this last effort with a frenetic dance. From the bar to the backstage, the large industrial hall was still trembling after a solid dance marathon clocking towards a full hour by now. If you looked closely, you could almost see the sparks in the air.

Stormy weather

The next couple of days were a blur; it might have something to do with my Montreuil night bus misadventure that can only happen if your head is still full of music and your feet barely hold up after all the dancing.

And, since Paris is the cruel cultural clusterfuck we all love and hate, my quiet Sunday with a short show scheduled turned into an evening interview with my fellow Beaux Arts alumni who took RadioBAL to the electonic art festival in Creteil and my new RA friends invited me to Concrete for their Residency party series with Move D and Margaret Dygas. And I love me some Dygas!

Not that it would have any direct connection with the festival, but it just goes to show that a trip to Paris for one event is never just that, as there are probably 3 or 4 equally interesting art/music-related happenings going on at the same time, often fighting to reach the same audience.

Monday I finally went to see the Re:Cycle art show associated with the festival, although Nicolas Collin's charming conference made more of an impact. I don't think I've seen an artist present his work with such poise and humor. Watching footage of performances from his generative scores, it felt like he could have been better integrated into the program as a composer, not just through his workshop and art piece. I really hope I'll get to meet this master again.

My Tuesday plans fell through, when rushing to get to Grand Action, one of those repertoire cinemas in rue des Ecoles I used to love frequenting as a student, I saw a large fire truck blocking my path. A group of people were outside the theater. Oh no. The red truck was, unfortunately, linked to the festival – an overheated projector caused a small fire in the cinema. Nobody was injured, but the screening had to be moved. Cecile, the PR, was handling the crowd with a brave, nonchalant smile, jokingly suggesting that the theater caught fire because they were too hot.

The found footage film, 24 Hour City by People Like Us was moved to an improvised screening room within the exhibition space in La Generale, two hours later. I was impressed by their diligence, but my sleep deprived self could have not endured another nightly adventure and my 6 am flight.

I said goodbye with a heavy heart, crossing the bridge towards the 85 to a beautifully-timed sunset, Eiffel Tower, the works... It was the Paris carte postale in all its glory; the perfect credit-rolling ending to this beautiful festival. I was sure hoping to return the following year.

Waiting for the bus with a friendly looking bearded clochard, I played again the lyrics that have been on repeat in my head all through this journey: ''Keeps rainin' / Don't know why it keep on rainin' , to Viola Wills' melodrama disco tune.

#sonic protest 2016 #the attic mag #instants chavires #konono no1 #film photography #35mm film

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