With Rezso and Lina at the moot Winston was left in charge, and alone. He often kept to himself but he felt alone, more so than he ever had since that fateful day. The day he met an angel and allowed her to walk into the devil's den. He has hated himself ever since that day, waking nightmares imaging the worst that was happening to her, and at times hoping she was dead and not suffering.
Without Lina to train with and Rezso to harass he found his life empty and during Friday night bonfire he didn't even want to play. So he left early and hopped on the old Indian motorcycle, with his guitar strapped to his back, and headed into town with a head full of songs.
There was an old country bar with motorcycles lined up out front, in town the same town where Rezso had taken Lina. It was open late and had an open stage for anyone brave enough to face the crowd. The crowd here was so rowdy that a cage was erected around the stage to protect bands from flying bottles. There was even some barbwire around it to prevent people from trying to rush the stage.
When Winston arrived though the bartender and a few locals knew who he was, and after lubricating him with a few free drinks they got him to climb on stage. He opened his case and stepped on stage as some were silent and others jeered not expecting much from him. He sat down on the stool set there and pulled the microphone closer with a screech that drew some shouts. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he started to strum his guitar, with a hard slap of the heel of his boot on the hardwood floor.
He started to sing the longer the song went on the louder he got with deep anger to his words. He spoke of something personal, something that scarred him that can only be released through his music. Yet the song resonated with his crowd, surprising many as he drew in the crowd, someone even left a beer by the stage for him.
Though he never stopped playing as he went right into his next song. His songs sung from somewhere deep inside speaking of pain, some deep, some fresh. He sings of love lost and lost yearned for, and the one that everyone has in their past as it sent literal chills down the spines of large bikers and lumberjacks that he called out to.
It was now time to try out his new song, one close to his heart one that called to the part of his heart he let go. His voice quieted and now that they hung on his words he started with a soft whistle, as words started soft and low, but with a forcefulness that was angry but with hope still. It called out for one that he couldn't hold onto, for her to be strong for her to be there when he came for her.
It was obvious to all who were watching and listening that this song stole something from the man, he was breaking right in front of them. Even the final whistles of the song were cracking in his voice. Yet he couldn't and wouldn't stop, he went into a final song, that was a song with a voice that all but cried out.
He strummed hard on his guitar as his foot stamped hard on the floor, his voice cracking more and more as the words flew from his lips. Though the song was sung to the crowd and they all knew what it was like to be condemned and by now not a soul wasn't watching, most had forgotten their drinks. As Winston there on stage could take it no longer and found it easier to let it free on a stage full of strangers than his own pack, he chokes out the final words.
Gathering himself and wiping his cheek he stands as if none of that just happened, loosened his strings, placed them back in the case, silently closed it up, and left the stage. He didn't hear the silence that came over the place or the hooting and hollering that came after. He hardly felt the pats on his shoulders and didn't even realize when he took the drinks that were handed him, let alone drinking them.
The rest of the night was a blur he was grateful for it as it dulled the pain and for at least a few hours he could just forget, forget everything. So he did, blackout drunk he passed out under the table in the bar, the owner living upstairs let him be, figuring he earned anything he stole.
Without Lina to train with and Rezso to harass he found his life empty and during Friday night bonfire he didn't even want to play. So he left early and hopped on the old Indian motorcycle, with his guitar strapped to his back, and headed into town with a head full of songs.
There was an old country bar with motorcycles lined up out front, in town the same town where Rezso had taken Lina. It was open late and had an open stage for anyone brave enough to face the crowd. The crowd here was so rowdy that a cage was erected around the stage to protect bands from flying bottles. There was even some barbwire around it to prevent people from trying to rush the stage.
When Winston arrived though the bartender and a few locals knew who he was, and after lubricating him with a few free drinks they got him to climb on stage. He opened his case and stepped on stage as some were silent and others jeered not expecting much from him. He sat down on the stool set there and pulled the microphone closer with a screech that drew some shouts. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he started to strum his guitar, with a hard slap of the heel of his boot on the hardwood floor.
He started to sing the longer the song went on the louder he got with deep anger to his words. He spoke of something personal, something that scarred him that can only be released through his music. Yet the song resonated with his crowd, surprising many as he drew in the crowd, someone even left a beer by the stage for him.
Though he never stopped playing as he went right into his next song. His songs sung from somewhere deep inside speaking of pain, some deep, some fresh. He sings of love lost and lost yearned for, and the one that everyone has in their past as it sent literal chills down the spines of large bikers and lumberjacks that he called out to.
It was now time to try out his new song, one close to his heart one that called to the part of his heart he let go. His voice quieted and now that they hung on his words he started with a soft whistle, as words started soft and low, but with a forcefulness that was angry but with hope still. It called out for one that he couldn't hold onto, for her to be strong for her to be there when he came for her.
It was obvious to all who were watching and listening that this song stole something from the man, he was breaking right in front of them. Even the final whistles of the song were cracking in his voice. Yet he couldn't and wouldn't stop, he went into a final song, that was a song with a voice that all but cried out.
He strummed hard on his guitar as his foot stamped hard on the floor, his voice cracking more and more as the words flew from his lips. Though the song was sung to the crowd and they all knew what it was like to be condemned and by now not a soul wasn't watching, most had forgotten their drinks. As Winston there on stage could take it no longer and found it easier to let it free on a stage full of strangers than his own pack, he chokes out the final words.
Gathering himself and wiping his cheek he stands as if none of that just happened, loosened his strings, placed them back in the case, silently closed it up, and left the stage. He didn't hear the silence that came over the place or the hooting and hollering that came after. He hardly felt the pats on his shoulders and didn't even realize when he took the drinks that were handed him, let alone drinking them.
The rest of the night was a blur he was grateful for it as it dulled the pain and for at least a few hours he could just forget, forget everything. So he did, blackout drunk he passed out under the table in the bar, the owner living upstairs let him be, figuring he earned anything he stole.
Moderators: Rezso Drexler (played by TroyLocke) Sionja Blackwood (played by ValenciaTeek)