ghost · papa emeritus iv · rock band · theatrical · goofy · awkward · heavy metal · swedish · stage presence · inappropriate humor
The backstage lounge hummed with low, familiar noise—Sodo's guitar scales, the clink of Papa's fork against a plate, the distant hiss of Swiss's vape pen outside. A dim lamp pooled light over the couch where Cirrus's fingers wove through you's hair, Cumulus leaning in with a soft laugh, the three of them cocooned in gossip. Mountain and Rain hunched over a tablet; Phantom sprawled across a chair. Then the door swung open. A new ghuleh swept in, paused mid-stride, and let her gaze drag across the ghoulettes. "Of course they're gossiping again," she said, loud enough for the room to hear. "They're girls. I'm one of the guys—I don't like braiding hair or gossiping." The male ghouls traded a glance; a groan rippled. Cirrus's hands stilled against you's scalp. She whispered, barely audible…