I'm not Jesus (Open)

[lily tomlinson]

It was a little known fact that Nethiel was in a band. Yes, somehow he managed to socialize with people long enough to form a band and keep it together. Well, perhaps not people. The drummer was a massive werewolf. As was the bass player. And then the guitarist and the three cellists were vampires almost as old as he was.

And they all knew just who he was, what he did. They followed him for it, being those of the darker side of the Nightworld. Rogues. They loved having the embodiment of evil as their front man.

So Nethiel, and his band, Hellfire as they were aptly called, were currently preparing for their last set of the evening. The Black Iris was crowded on this evening, the old legendary bar for the inhuman. They'd enjoyed their time with the bandmates, the intrumental songs that rang true of heavy metal roots. Even with such classical instruments as the cello, they still managed to rock, to tear down the boundaries between classic and metal despite the crowd's misgivings.

And now? It was time for Nethiel to join them, to make his voice heard. It was what the crowd had been waiting for, the front man. He cut a lean, imposing figure, seemed to draw in the shadows and the fire of the candles set up around the stage. Red dress shirt, unbuttoned and fluttering, leather pants.... it was with ease that he pulled of the look of Hell-reincarnated. No pun intended.

A few strings from the bass, the cellos rising in the background, Nethiel grabbed the mic and started in on them. His voice was accusing, hard and gravelly, filled with fire and smoke.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrlvOYUay_4

"Dirty little secret,
Dirty little lies.
Say your prayers and comb your hair,
Save your soul tonight.

Drift among the faithful,
Bury your desires.
Aberrations fill your head,
You need a place to hide
And I am...

Do you remember me?
And the kid I used to be?
Do you remember me? "

The microphone cradled in his hand, his face twisted in reflection of anger, condemnation, he moved to the edge, leaning down a bit and staring down at the crowd. One could feel the heat radiating off of him, scorching should anyone touch him, as he let his anger get the better of him, control his music.

" When your world's come crashing down
I want to relive.
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

I'm not Jesus,
Jesus wasn't there!

You confess it all away,
But it's only shit to me
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

I'm not Jesus,
I will not forgive!


No I won't!
No I won't.

I thought you were a good man,
I thought you talked to god.
You hippocratic, messianic,
And child abusing-turned-satanic.

Do you remember me?
Do you remember me?
And the kid I used to be?
Do you remember?

Do you remember?

When your own world comes undone,
Let me be the one to say:
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

"I'm not Jesus,
You can't run away!"

And the innocence you spoiled
Found a way to live.
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

I'm not Jesus
I will not forgive!


I won't forgive.
I won't do whatever you want to.
I won't forgive.
I won't do whatever you want to.

Do you remember me?
And the kid I used to be?
Not the same as I used to be!
Oh, do you remember me?

Nooooooo!

When your world's come crashing down,
I want to relive
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

I'm not Jesus,
Jesus wasn't there!

You confess it all away,
But it's only shit to me!
(Your god ain't looking down on me!)

I'm not Jesus,
I will not,
I'm not Jesus,
I will not forgive!

Oh, I will not forgive, yeahyeah!
No, I will not forgive!"

Upon the end of the song, there was silence. There was staring. Shock. He'd gotten just what he'd wanted, to beat the lyrics down into them, terrify them into stillness. With a smirk, he straightened, holding the microphone aloft as the next song started up, the music swelling. Yes, Hell still had it. Still had the ability to force a crowd to face their sins.

He wasn't Jesus. He was something made of much worse. He would not forgive. He punished, and each one he knew what they had done. They crimes they had committed. They would never be able to run from their end destination. Hell was back with a vengeance.

[titan]

Frost strode into the crowded club, having easily beat the lines out front. Everyone knew who she served. There were sick sick stories of what happened to people who got in her way. Tonights music was a rather intriguing mix of classical metal. Not that it was anything original. She'd heard hundreds of variations on this same idea. The lead singer in particular looked slightly dweeby up there, getting his anger on.

Yep, Frost was having a very bad day. She didn't have the temper to deal with anyone at this present moment. After that whole fiasco in Russia... Ugh.

It was probably her cutting - and highly distracting - mood that kept her mind off of her surroundings. Indeed, she barely even noticed when the song ended and she scoffed, making a loud obviously humored noise. The only sound. As if she cared.

"Oh. Right. Right. Good show and all that." she said sarcastically just before the rather broody dude who sang started things into the next song. A few people stared at her. Nope, she wasn't even drunk yet. But that could change. Now that he was gone, she could relax a little.

[lily tomlinson]

By the time the last song rolled around, Nethiel singing along to the latest tune, 'I don't Care', the cellists putting in extra efforts because it was the last message of the evening, Nethiel was feeling particularly smug. The band's effect wasn't so different than usual. The majority of the audience was wary of the group onstage, but they were also enjoying the music. But like all shows, there was always a bad seed.

And this bad seed was one miss Eleanor Frost. Sarcastic, and in a particularly bad mood. Even onstage, Nethiel could sense that. He even poked and prodded at her past sins just for the blackmail. Yes, Nethiel had heard a great deal about her in the Underworld. They couldn't wait to get their hands on her when she finally kicked the can. She was almost as wanted as Seth, and just below her was Liam Black.

There was actually a whole list....

But he wasn't allowed to touch him. Something about a deal with the devil. No one was allowed to take Seth's upper employees before their time, and even then they'd have to fight.

So Nethiel would be forced to wait. Not that he minded it. He actually admired Frost. She had cunning, skill, and her sarcasm was quite the talent he wished he could harness. That, and she wasn't too bad to look at. Not bad at all.

The set over, Nethiel weaved through the crowd, nodding his head at the females, and some men, who tried to coerce company out of. For all his talents up on stage, he really did suck at social skills. It was always easier to be evil than to try for conversations. The only people he could really talk to without forcing himself to be nice were the Old Powers. Except Heaven. She just made his eye twitch.

While Nethiel's destination was Frost, he did not make it seem that way, did not want to bring her wrath down upon him when all he could do was scare her, and not ship her off to Hell. There were rules to these things. Damn rules. So, he did not make eye contact. Pretended not to even notice her as he brushed past her and took a seat at the bar. And even the brushing past her... he took great care not to accidentally touch her lest she be offended.

And there at the bar? Why, he was given a nice glass of whiskey, and then leaned back against the bar, his eyes narrowed on the crowd before him. But not Frost. Never Frost.