Even through the dark, tinted windows of the hotel bar and lounge, it could still be seen that the sun had long since fallen below the horizon and the hours of evening had overcome the city in which this rather affluent little bar, attached to a similarly rather high-end sort of hotel, was located. Indeed, it was nearing the hour of half past eight--or so Vivian Nakani-Maisuradze, currently seated at the bar, bottle of beer set out on the mahogany surface before her, cigarette held loosely between two fingers, judged it to be. Normally, this would not be her first choice when it came to selecting a bar for a drink (or several) in the evening, if only because normally she wouldn't be able to afford so much as a drink in all likeliness. Then again, normally, she would not be staying at so affluent a hotel as this one. Never one with much of a mind for business, to the best of Vivian's knowledge, the accommodations for Legion, as one of the headliners of the concert, were being paid for by the organisers of the concert...or was it the record label? Whatever it was, the band's hotel fees, including, most importantly, the booze, was being paid for. Who it was didn't really matter to her--it wasn't Vivian.

Even when she didn't bother to turn her head and look around, Vivian was well aware that in contrast with the comparatively more conservative, well-dressed patrons of this establishment, she stood out like a sore thumb. Well, she was used to that. The guitarist and lead singer of the technical death metal band Legion wore a leather jacket studded with spikes and chains, a copper bullet belt around her waist (that wasn't something people in general wore these days, frankly), spiked wrist bands at her wrists...in general, not the kind of thing you wore to this kind of bar if you...well, weren't Vivian. A sleeveless Carcass shirt clung tightly to the taut muscles of her abdomen, the band's classic logo emblazoned across the black surface of the shirt; Vivian was pretty sure nobody of the type who could afford to stay at this hotel on their own had ever heard, or heard of, Carcass.

Well, regardless. She didn't give a shit if they thought she looked out of place. She could only say, just wait 'till the rest of the band gets here for 'out of place'.

At least, maybe the rest of the band would come down. Or maybe, as would be typical, Vivian was the only one of them who would actually see fit to go down to the bar and start drinking the evening before a big concert. Rick might have, all things considered; in many ways Vivian and her fellow co-lead guitarist were polar opposites, but in others, they were...well, surprisingly similar. Lenchi, predictably, had probably been too lazy to get out of bed that day and was probably still asleep (and that was only partially hyperbole). And as for Ascelin...Vivian figured he might. Or she might, just as likely, have spent the rest of the evening drinking alone. She was not a stranger to that--not so much since Legion had been formed by four musicians of varying walks of life, personalities, and musical styles, but still, to a degree, Vivian was used to being on her own. Even now she took a strange sort of solace in being alone, when the faceless, nondescript patrons around her seemed to fade away and leave nothing in the world but herself. It was a lingering carry-on from years that seemed, from where she now stood, surreal and strange--as though they had come about in a different world, to someone who was not Vivian.

Her long, rough fingers reached to close around the bottle as she raised it to her lips and drank those thoughts away, her eyes cast downward at another object set before her on the bar: a poster. Emblazoned across the top of it in eye-catching, gritty font were the words 'The biggest metal event in the state!', and then the date of the first day--marked for tomorrow. The rest of the poster, backgrounded with spikes, chains, and hands throwing up the iconic devil horns, was a list of the groups that were to appear in the most important rock festival in the state. But she didn't need to go down the list of assorted smaller names to find the only one that really mattered to her.

The top of the poster was dominated by two images, meeting one another like interlocking halves of a yin-yang symbol. On one side, in twisted, wicked lettering, was the name and logo of Legion, set above an image of the band itself, standing against a backdrop of assorted blood splatters--typical death metal shit. It almost made her want to smirk to herself--she hated having to pose for publicity shots, which rather explained the indignant scowl and murderous glare that adorned her bitter features. Then again, she figured that matched the whole theme of Legion's half of the poster, so it all worked out.

Her eyes hovered from Legion to the name that dominated the other half of the poster. Nerveshock--it was a familiar name. The fellow headliner of the entire concert, they were one of the biggest acts of the modern metal scene, akin in that respect to Legion itself--though, Vivian figured, probably more well-known to the general metal community, if only for the rather more accessible nature of their nu metal style. They were both rising beacons travelling in parallel lines in the metal world--one playing death metal, the other an amalgamation of nu metal and metalcore. And that wasn't even mentioning the hordes of other bands destined to open the show for Legion and Nerveshock--a collection of thrash metal, doom metal, power metal, black metal, sludge, progressive, stoner, speed--all coming together to play for one of the biggest crowds in the country.

Vivian brushed a stray dreadlock of faded black from her eyes, looking up from the poster to take a glance towards the entry, hoping vaguely to see some sign of her bandmates. This is the most boring goddamn bar I've ever had to get a drink at, she mused silently as she downed the rest of her beer and turned wearily to order another drink, taking another drag of the cigarette still whittling away in her hand. Ah, how she missed the bars where you could get drunk, call someone a series of unintelligible insults, and then start a fistfight and it wouldn't even be considered unusual.