[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/4sl6C8t.png[/img]
[sub][color=c3bbc9]Interacting: Starbright! [@Jumbus][/color][/sub][/center]

Eliza took the proffered business card with a trembling hand, squinting nervously at it as Starbright spoke about being on stage in a month. Again, who did he think he even was, to suggest that she’d be able to perform…in a month? Terror filled her chest and made it hard to speak, so she offered a tiny terrified smile and a nod as the man swept off out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Wordlessly, Eliza flopped down at the table, placing her instrument down carefully before she did.  For several long moments, she sat there, staring blankly between the business card, her rosin cake, and the already overstuffed music binder in front of her, her thoughts racing far too fast to make heads or tails of. 

After several moments of silent contemplation, she shook her head, mouthing something that could have been the word “stupid” and bringing the heel of her hand sharply against the side of her head. It ached, but her eyes refocused and she seemed to snap herself out of her stupor, placing the business card into the clear front pocket on the inside of her music binder, which had several other business cards in it. (Mostly of various violin instructors, and a few celebrity musicians she’d managed to get autographs of.) 

Letting out a thin sigh, Eliza stretched her arms up behind her head, her back and shoulders popping. She rose from her seat once more, crouching down to finish organizing her looping pedals and plugging them into her laptop, absently shouldering her instrument and playing a few long tones to check and make sure that she’d gotten the setup done properly. If she’d been distracted before, she was completely absentminded now, her brain several years away on a very different stage.

The rising melody of Clara Schumann’s Allegretto began to slip out from her fingers, and she paused for a moment, breathless – it had been years since she’d even glanced at the music for it, the overly-ambitious piece having been intended for her eighth grade solo-ensemble festival, which she’d not even managed to perform at, having run away from the concert the night before… Her face colored at the memory and her bow slipped, a jarring screech between the delicate turns of the melody. She flinched, her body turning icy cold and invisible, and she had to take a moment to shake herself free from the thoughts, resetting and flipping through her notebook to the standard pop repertoire she was planning for the fundraiser. These melodies were simple enough at least, and floated easily from her fingertips, even without any real focus or effort.
[hr][hr]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/8tv7g5m.png[/img]
[sub][color=9ed7db]Interacting:[@canaryrose] [@Hitman] [@KaijuBaragon] [/color][/sub][/center]
For precisely three quarters of a second, Angelica thought that her plan had worked. Her mouth leveled into a smile and she caught a breath, hoping that she’d saved them.

And then, in the next three quarters of a second, she watched it all unravel. 

The first thing that registered was the pain, a throbbing ache at first that bloomed in her thigh and at first seemed to just be an incredibly intense cramp. She tried to take a step forward, she thought, and only realized the true nature of the injury as she toppled to the ground, the pain turning fiery and incredibly intense as the leg folded up under her and she clasped her hands around the injury, blood flowing out between her fingers and running down her leg. A ragged breath, of pain, or surprise, or something, rattled around in her ears, sharp and audible and pitiful, and it took several moments for her to realize that it was her own.

She realized, after some length of contemplating her own injury that might have been five seconds or five hours, that the battle raged around her. Grace knelt down beside her, trying to wrap her leg in a very fancy jacket – Angie tried, weakly, to push the other girl’s hands away, but she found that feeling in her arms and hands ended abruptly in static. As Grace tied the cloth around her leg, tight enough to try to stop the bleeding or slow it some, she flinched, biting down on her tongue to stifle the cry of pain as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how to handle this kind of pain, and it was obvious. Grace was in pain too, she imagined, as her eyes refocused somewhat and she caught a glimpse of the flakey grey skin on the other woman’s hand. She just had to get it together, and put a brave face on and get in there and fight. Everyone else was being hurt and taking it. She was the weak link. 

She managed her bravado for what felt like three seconds before Tom hoisted her up. Stars burst behind her eyes and she cried out, collapsing against his side. Thankfully, he could use gravity to help carry her, and probably was, given that she’d effectively turned to deadweight in his hands. Her whole body trembled against his side but she – she had to try. No sooner had she managed to begin hobbling along, or at least move her legs in a way that didn’t seem immediately detrimental, than she suddenly lost her balance and was grabbed by Grace, or Patricia, or someone? and pulled away, Vinnie crashing through the ceiling and inciting another fight…

She cursed, trying to hold herself upright, every instinct screaming at her to try to help even though she could scarcely see, her vision blurring just beyond her nose as she peered at Patricia- or was it Grace? She couldn’t see, but she mumbled out a slurred apology with a tongue that wouldn’t quite cooperate, her limbs refusing to function and even try to help them carry her. 

[i]Dead weight, literally.[/i]

Dimly, she recognized a snarky voice behind them, though the onslaught of noise rattling around her brain had become as tinny and distorted as it was through the office intercom. Blake. She’d know him anywhere. The heat in the room rose sharply, for a moment warding off even the chill and numbness that filled her limbs and the back of her mind. A laugh, a confused and bitter laugh, bubbled up from somewhere in her chest as she watched the fire blooming around his hands. 

Blake was here to save them. 

As she watched, her eyes drying and once again fading to a blur, the terrified laughter and tears continued to build, sending waves of pain through her body with every moment and stealing her breath. She found she couldn’t stop it, not until Blake approached them, the battle seemingly won. Tears streaming down her face, body shaking with hiccups and adrenaline and pain, she leaned into his touch for the brief moment he was there, trying to say something to the effect of, [color=9ed7db]“Hi, cupcake,”[/color] but managing only a pitiful whimper.

And then, inevitably, Vinnie returned.

She choked on a cry as Blake pulled away from her, her body weakly, dumbly trying to follow him. Her weight settled firmly on the injured leg which buckled under her, pulling her (and likely Grace, who had so far done an admirable job of holding her up) down to the ground. She hit the floor hard, choking on a cry as pain bloomed in her thigh and hip, but she tried vainly to push herself up onto her hands, and quickly found that her body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and her hands seemed made of rubber and utterly detached from the same plane of existence as the rest of her. 

[i]I have to help him. I have to.[/i]

She squirmed on the ground, fighting the waves of dizziness and nausea and pain that tried to keep her pinned, and in doing so rolled just wrong over the injury. Pain bloomed in white lightning bolts behind her eyes, and as Patricia began to sing, what was left of her vision darkened to black. 

[i]I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve let you all down.[/i]