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themusiichouse · 1 year

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@dragonskxn

Ah, medieval Europe (or at least what looked like it). A great place to be walking around totally lost in 21st-century garb with a really obvious Mage Vibe™ about you. No, really! It's not like you'll get stared at weirdly or anything! Well...

"You know, I really think we shouldn't have walked into this city without casting some sort of illusion on ourselves," Fanny says, gazing uneasily around her at all the strange looks the party was getting.

"I should have thought of that myself, honestly," Franzi replies, in her workout outfit that was clearly showing her well-toned arms and midriff. "I have the distinct feeling that it's not entirely appropriate here to be out in the world showing more than your ankles. Or to be a woman wearing pants."

"You tell me. I fucking hate being stared at," Minona mutters. "I can feel the white people judgment pouring off these fuckers. Like they just know that their counterparts in our world flip their shit at seeing a Black person in a hoodie…"

"For once I'm glad not to be in my kitsune form," Wolfie muses.

"It's not as though any of us could have guessed we'd end up in a place like this," Felix muses. "Or predicted in advance what kind of clothing we'd have to wear."

"Well, I know one person who could have predicted it," Fanny grumbles. "Wilhelm von Blumenthal! You do seiðr, don't you? Can't you predict the future with that? Couldn't you have given us a heads up about--"

She pauses, not hearing a response.

"Hey--where is that little brat anyway?"

----------

The little brat seemed to have other plans. Grinning broadly, he'd slowed so that the group could travel a short distance ahead of him, then ducked into an adjoining road and weaved his way through the little town until he could reach the central square. He didn't care for the townspeoples' suspicious looks, or their superstitious whispers. He wanted to know one thing and one thing alone: Whether the whole "music from the future could kill a medieval peasant" meme was true.

He got up on the central platform from which the town crier presumably announced his messages, and, pressing a finger to his throat in a bit of projection magic to boost his voice even further, called out, "Hear ye! Hear ye!"

The townspeople milling about whipped around, startled. That certainly wasn't their town crier's voice. Before them appeared a man (or was he a boy?) that looked no older than twenty--perhaps younger, even, judging by his short height and that impossibly fresh-looking face. And what on earth was he dressed as? What material were those blue pants of his made of, and why did the kneecaps look frayed? The shape of the letters on his short-sleeved shirt were familiar, but none were literate enough (or well-versed in foreign languages enough) to understand that it read, "WODAN WAS A FEMBOY." They did, however, note that it featured an old bearded guy in makeup and a dress. And immediately, every single one of their hackles went up.

"Citizens of this quaint little town," Wilhelm says, willing his voice to speak in Allspeak that would allow them to understand what he wished to communicate. "As humble as you are, you no doubt have been exposed to the beauty that music can offer you. Where I come from, I have heard the splendid tunes of traditional bards of my day, such as 'Gangsta's Paradise' and 'Pumped Up Kicks.'" He's referring to bardcore, of course. "But today, I will introduce you to a new kind of music. A transcendent experience unlike any you have ever heard before. One that will lift each and every one of you from your well-despised serfdom, and in exultation make you kings and queens. Listen well, for if you do not take the lessons of this new form of song to heart, you may never hear it again. Now is the time! Hear the music of the future! Hear the music of the REVOLUTION!"

A baton materialized in his hand. And as it did, the sound of Ride of the Valkyries poured forth into the air.

----------

"Hello! Bonjour!" Franzi calls to a shopkeeper along the path, waving with a cheery smile. Maybe if they were simply pleasant to these people, they'd excuse their strange appearances. "You wouldn't happen to know where to find--"

But the shopkeeper merely glared at her and turned away, pretending to busy herself with reorganizing her stock.

"You try, Fanny," Franzi sighs. "At least you've got a dress that covers your ankles--"

But it's not long before a sudden burst of music floods the town--Ride of the Valkyries, pouring out from its center. With such dramatically stirring opening notes, no one could miss it--least of all the rest of the Classica family. Fanny jumps as soon as she hears the noise--for that is what Wilhelm's music is to her, noise--and balls a fist.

"Oh, there he is, that insufferable--" Fanny doesn't even finish her insult before tearing off in the direction of the sound.

"What the fuck does he think he's doing?" Johannes cries as he hurries after her. "Do the words 'keep a low profile' not mean anything to him?"

"I probably shouldn't refer to my own grandson as an attention whore," Minona says, "and yet--"

"We can complain about it later," Franzi says, hurrying ahead of Fanny. "We have to grab him and get out of here. Now!"

----------

Wilhelm grins as he let the music flow through the open space, letting the magic overwhelm the senses of all those in front of him. Gone are the town's buildings around him, swept away by a grand illusion of a towering Norse hall soaring through the clouds, guarded by illusory Valkyries that took the form of his most beloved opera singers. A young dark-skinned woman with long hair soars forward, raising her spear to deliver the opening bars of the song;

"Hojotoho! Hojotoho! Heiaha! Heiaha!"

The voice bursts out in what could either be seen as an angelic resonance piercing the heavens or an all-out assault on the eardrums. The peasantry of this small medieval-looking town seems to have taken it as the latter. The townspeople scream at the intensity of the music-magic being hurled at them, hands planted on their ears as the force makes them collapse on the ground. That's to say nothing of the unfamiliarity of it all. What are these instruments, so ferocious and harsh? There is singing, but why is it like that? The sound of the strings arcs and swoops through the air like a lance intent on piercing them, while the brass pummels them without mercy. Some have literally fainted at the shock of the sight and sound; some manage to stand up, and hurry off to God knows where. Franzi sees them leave out of the corner of her eye; it can't be anything good.

"Wilhelm! What do you think you're doing? Get down from there!" Franzi calls, barely audible above the sound.

"Why?" he yells back. "I'm just seeing whether that meme about modern things killing medieval peasants is actually true. And I think it's working!"

"Fucking hell, Wilhelm!" his brother Johannes cries out. "We were literally just asking for directions!"

"We need to go now, before we get into any trouble," Franzi says, ascending the platform and grabbing Wil by the wrist.

"But the fun was just beginning…" Wilhelm pouts.

Well, the fun would come to an end just as soon as it began. Below, a large crowd had gathered, torches and pitchforks in hand, one person even with a long rope fit for tying someone to a stake.

"We were literally just asking for directions," Johannes repeats, as Franzi slings Wil over her shoulder and the group hurries off.

----------

"Put me down! Holy shit! Mom! Put me the fuck down!"

But it's no use simply to scream about it, or to beat her back with his tiny fists. The entire group has roped him up with their magic as Franzi hauls him out of the city, sparkling lines like music staves wrapping around him to bind him to her back. Each one of them alone, he can comfortably take, but when they all worked together, it's a different story…

"We can't stay here anymore. Good job," Fanny grumbles. "Now we're going to have to find another town, and God knows where that would be--"

"Of course we can stay here! There's nothing these simple townsfolk can do against the might of all our magic combined. And what makes you think we can't survive on our own until we get back home, anyhow--"

"It's not about magic, Wil! Not everything is about strength of magic! How would you like to be in a space where you can only force everybody to tolerate you?" Fanny cries. "Well, I mean, you probably already know what that's like, because that's basically the state of your fandom…"

"HEY!" Wil shouts.

"You know, I thought it was funny," Wolfie says cheerfully. "I wonder how they would have responded to my Cupcakke remixes--"

"Don't enable him!" Fanny thwacks Wolfie on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Hey, guys," Felix pipes up, "there's a--"

"Come on, loosen up," Wil says, grinning. "Of course it was funny! These people have never heard anything more than some bards tinkling away on a mandolin. Didn't you see? Ride of the Valkyries was literally blowing them away!"

"Well, the fact remains, you basically ruined our reputation in this town before we even had a chance to ask anyone for help," Fanny says.

"Guys, there's a--" Felix tries to interject again, but again his friends keep fighting.

"Yeah, and?" Wil challenges. "It's not like these people have Internet or anything. We can just find another town!"

"Word still gets around!" Fanny says. "It might be slower than in the modern day, but you know people still talk. How many times was your soulbound life caught causing trouble because people kept catching up to you?"

"That was the 19th century! This is a bumfuck century! Big difference!"

"Guys," Felix says, finally being heard, "there is a lady with blue hair following us."

"Huh?" Fanny turns around.

The whole group does, in fact. And there, in the trees, is a lovely young woman with strikingly fluffy blue hair and strangely pointed ears, staring at the party like they'd just come from another universe (which, of course, they did). They knew at once what she was, like what many of the townsfolk suspected: nonhuman. Perhaps that might make her a better ally here than most.

"Hello," Fanny says, stepping through the group to see her better. "What's your name?"

#dragonskxn #the sound of an anarchist's dreams. || wilhelm von blumenthal #death's fingers on the keys. || danièle franciska françois #daughter of elysium. || minona fairchild #johannes 'sir fancy skates' brahms. || johannes biehl #songs without words. || felix abraham #the voice of the lieder unsung. || fanny abraham #leck mich im arsch! || wolfie aiflós

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