The Young Blood Chronicles

Young Volcanoes

Patrick's head lolled to the side, his mouth unknowingly hanging open. After the 'surgery', the girls had tied him to a much more comfortable chair in front of an elegant table littered with wine glasses and food platters. The smell of freshly cooked meat faintly found it's way into Patrick's nose. Patrick swore he could even see a red striped snake sliding around a pile of apples. He found it rather beautiful.

Patrick was also feeling sleepy. He had been for a while now- since the girls put that weird needle thing in his hand. Had it been a few hours? Patrick didn't really care.

The singer heard screams coming from a few rooms over. Ha, those screams sound like my band. He gave a slight chuckle. His band. They had written a song recently- what was it called? Patrick furrowed his brow, resting his remaining hand on the arm of the chair and leaning back.

"Hey, let us go!" A high pitched voice- Andy, probably- yelled, and Patrick remembered, sucking in a loud gasp.

He slowly began to snap his fingers to a 4/4 beat- well... at least he thought he was snapping. Due to the massive amount of blood on his fingers, the 'snapping' was simply a result of his middle finger and thumb slipping and sliding past each other repeatedly, not making a sound.

Though his mouth did make a sound. An ad-lib of the syllable "duh". He continued "snapping", swinging his head back and forth to the imaginary beat.

"When Rome's in ruins

We are the lions

Free of the Coliseums"

Patrick smiled, glad he could remember such a great song. He felt the snapping went perfectly with it. So he continued.

"In poisoned places

We are anti-venom

We're the beginning of the end"

Patrick heard his friends get closer and smiled larger- maybe they could sing too!

"Tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds

It's all over now

Before it has begun"

Patrick swayed his hand now, effortlessly, calmly- as if it were a boat floating in slow, bobbing waves. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"We've already won!"

The singer heard his friends being brought in, but being too immersed in the song, simply continued to sway his hand and sing. While he was upset they didn't sing with him, he decided not to make a big deal out of it.

"We are wild

We are like young volcanoes,"

Patrick threw his head back and sang loud so everyone could hear the beauty of the song. He was determined to get his band to sing with him. After all, what would a feast be without singing?

"We are wild

Americana, exotica

Do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?"

--OoO--OoO--

Pete was fighting with all his strength. He was blindfolded and tied up, being dragged into a new room. Where were they taking him now?

He could hear Andy and Joe grunting and resisting against their captors as well. When the group entered this new room and were forced to sit down, Pete could hear a sound, a mixture of mumbling and humming. He knew the voice, as well. He had heard it thousands of times, concert after concert, recording after recording.