#Pre Tapes Egg - Aodhagán

[egganonman]

62 for the ask game :3

Song: Dance and Cry, by Mother Mother

Enjoy some pre tape shenanigans

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"𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵?"

Aodhagán rummaged around his bag, hand closing around the soft fabric within. He pulled it out and held it in one hand as he trudged up the steep hill, his fingers tracing the seams.

"𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘯."

He reached the top of the grassy mound and heaved a sigh of relief. He stuffed what was in his hands into his pocket and reached within the bag again, taking the blanket from within and placing it down on the ground. He collapsed onto it, staring up at the sky.

"𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦."

He sighed and gently removed his sketchbook and pencil from his bag, flipping it open on an empty page and sitting up. His pencil rested on the rough paper, his mind racing.

"𝘐𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵, 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭- 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘩𝘮?"

The pencil only hovered for a second more before he gritted his teeth and slammed the book shut, stuffing it back into the depths of the backpack. He didn't hesitate before ripping the soft pink fabric from his pocket and stepping into the skirt, removing his trousers underneath before zipping it up.

"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳.. 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴."

Aodhagán stood and stepped away from the blanket, the bag resting atop. He strained his mind to think of a song, some music.

That gentle song, number 8 on his cd, whatever its name was. Slow and calm and furious. The opening notes echoed in his mind, a gentle hum accompanying them. He felt his body moving.

His arms seemed to sway aimlessly as he spun, feeling the wind hit the skirt and make it lift slightly. His legs felt unsteady and uncertain but he moved them anyway, thinking of those elegant dancers on television.

They swung their arms around their heads, like they were a moving painting- sweetly and dramatically posed all at once. Those dancers, with years of experience and training. Did they ever feel like this? So angry and lost and upset, whilst feeling numb to everything?

He felt himself lose his balance, placing a hand down to save himself before standing upright again, the music shifting to another song- something more delicate and sweet.

Dancers on TV always had a small smile on their face as they glided around the stage, like they were content and happy with themselves and the world. Even if the song was sad, they never looked lost or confused. They remained elegant and pretty- far and away from anything he was.

A drop of water hit his face, followed by another and another. He blinked, noticing the world around him again. The sky was dark with heavy, grey clouds, small droplets of water making the bright hillside seem fuzzy and out of focus.

Still, he kept moving. Was he dancing? Would the world outside perceive him as delicate and beautiful? Something to watch with awe, rather than with fear and suspicion?

He seemed to lighten as the world darkened, his steps seeming only lighter as time went on.

Water streaked down his cheeks and for a moment, he felt himself fancying that the sky was crying for him. Sobbing so that he wouldn't have to, millions of eyes clustering together to pour their misey over him and clean his body of any in the process.

The thought made him smile.