"It's too soon" is what his therapist at the center would have said, what Shadowheart has said. But who is going to be the judge of that but himself? Shouldn't Astarion be the expert on Astarion's well-being?
Except he knows that's a lie. He hasn't been for years, slowly moving from one moment to the next when he's in a haze and barely surviving the ones that weren't. The fact that the last two years in particular have been arguably the worst in his life, one could ask him why he's even trying again the first place. After all, isn't the music industry too much?
Isn't this what broke him?
But the appeal of a fresh start, something real, even small, is too tempting to pass up. Maybe that's just another symptom of his personality, finding small, fleeting thrills where he can. And why should this be any different? After all, his first attempt to start over had ended catastrophically. Publicly. Nationally. Internationally. There's a stain on his image that won't come out, no matter how much glitter he puts on.
He wasn't clean then, though. He is now. Three months and three weeks. And he needs to fill the hole in his life with something. And the only thing he knows other than drugs is music. So that's what he lands on.
Sending in audition tapes isn't unheard of, but he has to admit that the bit of a "test" was a new twist. He didn't want to try for anything where he'd have to send in his previous work. Not only could anyone find it on any torrenting website or streaming platform, but the whole ass point was to do something new. Something as Astarion. Something not tied to—...him.
He figured that it would be a good exercise, if nothing else. Slowly dip his toes back into something while he gets his feet on the ground on the outside world for the first time in an age. The first time as an adult. But the track that accompanied the lyrics was, admittedly...interesting. Different. A mix of familiar sounds in a new way. It piqued his curiosity.
So when he actually got a callback from this "Halsin", he felt a true blue jolt of excitement. And maybe an ounce of hope.
He steps out of his car, looking up at the unassuming building, kitty-cornered by an old warehouse and a taxidermist. There's a moment where he's not sure if he got the right address, but upon looping the building, the name "UnderDark Records" flashes in a deep purple. Admittedly, it's not a label he'd heard of before. It should be a sting to his ego. The Szarr label is known all across the Sword Coast. But...it isn't. There's some comfort in being a nobody, if even for an afternoon.
Astarion is much more nervous that he realizes one he steps into the building. There's a secretary up front—a tiefling with blue skin and pinkish hair—who looks up from her work, almost surprised to see someone walk in. ]
"Welcome to—"
[ There's a pause as her dark eyes widen a bit. ]
—let's just skip the formalities, darling. I'm here to see someone named "Halsin"?
[ She snaps out of it, quickly looking down to her large paper planner. One long nail drags across the 3:00 PM slot to "A.A".
Oh Halsin, you tease! she thinks. ]
"Yes! He's in Recording Room One. If you go up the stairs, it will be your second left."
[ Astarion does a little dramatic bow before turning to the stairway. Inwardly, he cringes a little. Not from being recognized, that was likely inevitable in the industry in this city, but more the performance he so easily slips into. Shouldn't he try to be different? Shouldn't he be trying to be—
...Who?
There's a pause as he stands as the top of the stairway, hand on the banister. How else should he be?
The thought hangs too heavy, so Astarion shakes it off and marches forward. It isn't as if this will amount to much, anyway. He knows to keep expectations low. If he just flirts a bit and has an afternoon out of his apartment, he will consider that a win.
"Recording 1" is painted on the second door to the left, with a couple of duck stickers posted around it. Cute. He can hear two voices behind the door and one definitely sounds like the man he spoke on the phone with. So, without further adieu, Astarion knocks once and waits for the "come in" before opening the door... ]
You're being awfully cagey about all this, I can't help but notice.
[This isn't the first meeting they'll have had with a prospective collaborator since Halsin had suggested they'd start taking auditions, but Gale can't let the fact that his manager of three months has a distinctly different energy about this one as they await their arrival. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the larger man even as a smile plays at his lips, pushing himself away from the desk where he'd been leaning over and looking at their combined notes before strolls over to the small counter and minifridge on the other side of the office, bending down to pull two bottles of water from the latter and holding one out in offering.]
You're decidedly up to something, aren't you?
[The project itself was an intriguing one— Gale had been excited by the prospect almost immediately; while he'd only ever been a solo artist, his entire purpose at the moment was to do something new, do something apart from the carefully-curated persona that Mystra had kept him restricted to. He still loved music as he always had; having his own taken from him was, admittedly, a devastating blow, but there was no better revenge than a life well-lived. If he couldn't have access to the music he'd already written, he would do something new, something that would turn heads. Something that was potentially risky, foolhardy— but most importantly, not hers.
Halsin lets out a low chuckle as he accepts the offered bottle, sinking back into his chair and settling in.]
"I don't know what you're on about. Are you always this suspicious?"
[Gale snorts, shaking his head slightly even as his smile persists.]
I'm beginning to think I ought to be. So far, we've—
[He cuts himself off immediately as he hears that knock at the door, curiously turning his head. Halsin, meanwhile, clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.]
[ He pauses for just a moment, adjusting the lapels of his leather jacket over his white shirt and black jeans combination. He wanted to seem put together, but casual. Still young, but not a child. Not anymore. First impressions are everything, after all.
What he opens the door to is, for all intents and purposes, a rather mediocre recording studio. The "Control Room" is small, which suits the building, with just enough space for a set of standard mixing boards and screens to sit on the other side of the glass. Though the live room boasts little more from what he can see, what matters are the two men that are in it.
The larger of the two's face seems to light up, however minutely, as Astarion's eyes dart between the two. ]
"Mister Ancunín! Glad to see you found our little studio without too much trouble."
[ He keeps a veneer of professionalism, though Astarion does notice the way his eyes also seem to flicker to the shorter man beside him, if just for a moment. Astarion (correctly) assumes the larger man is gauging his companion's reaction which is...expected, if a bit tiring. The bit of hope Astarion had dwindles a bit—if this is all a stunt for a reaction, then...he seriously hopes the fucking press isn't involved.
But Astarion is well-practiced in saving face, even if that mask has slipped over the last few years. He puts on an easy smile and steps into the studio, allowing the door to close behind him. ]
Please, "Astarion" is fine. You must be Halsin? I thought I recognized that timbre.
[ Halsin chuckles and sets the water bottle to the side and extends his hand for a proper greeting. Astarion takes it out of necessity, biting back how much he still dislikes touching anyone, especially strangers. Luckily, Halsin seems to stand on necessity as well and keeps the handshake short (or he senses something even Astarion doesn't realize he's putting out in the universe.) ]
"Good ears are why we asked you here. Let me introduce the man behind the music you heard..."
[That's his cue. Gale had turned his back just long enough to fetch another water for their guest, bottle in hand as he turns back towards the door and puts on the brightest, most welcoming smile he can conjure, something he's amazed still comes to him with such ease these days.]
Welcome to UnderDa—
[The name hadn't sunk in; he'd only been half-listening, but when he lays eyes on their potential collaborator, it suddenly hits all at once.
Ancunín. Astarion Ancunín. There was no mistaking him, standing there in black and white and looking reasonably removed from how Gale had seen him plastered on magazine covers and posters, but still undeniably him.
He lets out a shocked peal of laughter, incredulous.]
Gods above, it's really you, isn't it? I can't believe I didn't recognize your voice— [It had been remarkably different from the sound he was used to hearing from Astarion, and he's never had the chance to hear him solo before.] Wonderful work, really; we loved what you did with the piece. Apologies, I'm babbling— I'm Gale.
[He knows that he's famous enough that his own name probably goes without saying, but much of what it's been attached to in recent months has been polarizing at best, with countless rumors still circulating about his marriage and his absence from the music scene, and more than that, it wouldn't be polite to just assume.
He holds a hand out in offering, eager to shake.]
Really, it's a pleasure to have the opportunity to meet you. Halsin, is this what you've been acting so dodgy about?
[The larger man simply smiles, shrugging fluidly.]
"I thought it would be better if you listened to the tapes not knowing, but I had a feeling you would like his."
[ Ah, Astarion knows that look. It's not too far off from the look that secretary had given him, but this man is much less...quiet about it. At least he has a nice voice, even if Astarion has heard it all before—
—or so he thought. That this man didn't recognize his voice is, well, it makes that little candle of hope burn a bit brighter again. That had been the point, hadn't it? To do something different and something him, away from manufactured the part he was supposed to play in a quintet. That his attempt, however improvised at the time, was not only not that but also worth listening to...worth following up on?
Maybe this is a good idea after all, at least for his ego. Take that, Shadowheart.
Astarion raises his brows through the stumbling as he pushes down on rising expectations in his chest. He glances from the man's brown, brown eyes to his hand but pauses for a moment, thinking. There's a bit of recognition behind his own blue eyes. ]
Gale...
[ He repeats, before finally taking that hand. His grip is fairly light, doing the minimum necessary. Some likely think it's that snobbishness that celebrities, let alone High Elves, are known for. He prefers that interpretation rather than the reality. But in the end, Gale may have reason to be a bit snobby himself. ]
From—
[ Astarion sounds casually questioning—or he hopes he does—but internally? He feels every second that passes between them. This is someone he should know, isn't it? He looks familiar. He's seen this face before. In a magazine? On a poster? On the television? Something, something—he's not just a background musician. He's done something. Something recent. And Astarion, Hells, Astarion should not be waltzing up anywhere acting like he owns the place without a decent idea on popular music from the last few months.
The years have been a haze. He's worked with other artists he couldn't pick out of a line up.
Who is this man? This man who thinks he might be worth something. This Gale— ]
...Waterdeep, right?
[ He quickly tries to cover up the pause he needed to shake his memories. ]
The pleasure's all mine, darling.
[ And takes his hand away as soon as he's able, lest the other man feel him sweat. He's right. He's right, isn't he? Yes, he's seen this man before with a guitar and maybe a piano and with a beautiful woman.
Yes, yes that sounds right. "Gale of Waterdeep". ]
Is that so?
[ So Halsin did this purposefully? Interesting...a slightly underhanded tactic, but still one that benefits him. And boots his confidence as an artist all in one go.
Astarion approves. ]
Well, I'm flattered to have made the cut. And that arrangement— [ He nods to Gale. ] —that was all you, then?
[Gale's own handshake is firm, warm without being overbearing, and he gives a nod of confirmation as Astarion steadily finds his way to his name— or the name of his first album, to be precise, but it had certainly stuck; people still used it as though it were his given name, and for a long while, he hadn't minded. In this moment, he still doesn't, despite his desire to break away from what's known, but as far as he's concerned, the Astarion of Rhapsody fame could call him whatever he liked.]
Guilty as charged on all counts, I'm afraid. The piece is rather experimental, but it seemed like you took right to it.
[There was a quality he hadn't quite been able to pinpoint while listening to the audition, but it had stuck with him, followed him around in the days that followed like a pleasant sort of haunting.
Gale holds the unopened bottle of water out to him in opening, then gestures towards one of the seats in front of Halsin's desk, as though he were some assistant and not the artist being represented.]
Please, make yourself comfortable.
[Halsin himself chuckles as he returns to his own chair, having observed the exchange of pleasantries— if they could be called such— and decided that Astarion might have had his fill with the one handshake for now.]
"Really, we'd just like to talk and get to know you a bit, hear what it is you're interested in doing with yourself going forward. If you're interested and it seems a good fit, I thought maybe we'd have a listen at what you two sound like together, but all in good time. No need to rush it."
[ Relief. Immense relief that Astarion has gotten it right. He can't place a tune at the moment, but he knows he is absolutely going to have to when he returns to his apartment. With a clear mind he's much more likely to remember what he's heard. Shadowheart, likely, would give him hell for it. So he won't tell her he forgot. (She's already going to give him hell for doing this in the first place, might as well avoid it all entirely.) ]
It was...unconventional, I will say. [ But he doesn't sound terribly judgmental, despite his phrasing. ] But that might be something the industry sorely needs right now.
[ Yes, spoken like a true musician, right? Like he's got some sort of vision or plan for all this other than "is anyone even willing to accept me?" That question is still unanswered, but this is a step in the right direction.
Astarion accepts the bottle if just because he's glad to have something to do with his hands, but he doesn't make moves to open it. He does, however, make himself comfortable as offered, taking the other free seat as casually as possible. Like he belongs here. Like he's done this a hundred times. (Like his entire career wasn't because of an off-chance meeting as a teenager.)
Halsin's question is valid. They're supposed to be creatives, right? Have a vision? What if Astarion's vision is just not that? ]
Well...
[ He starts with a bit of laugh. He's lied in so man interviews. Being honest for once should be easy, right? ]
I guess it goes without saying you already know my history, but I'm looking for a— [ He pauses. It's not easy, because it means admitting you left something behind for a reason. But he forces it. ] —a fresh start.
[ Not incorrect, if underselling it. He motions with the hand not holding the water bottle in a general space behind himself. ]
I'm here without an entourage, after all. [ Now he sounds like a celebrity. Good? Good. He might need that sway. It's worked for him in the past. Gale is obviously a fan of some sort—or was, at any rate. ] And I'd like something a little less— [ Contrived. Controlled. Captive. ] —manufactured, if you catch my drift. I'd like to say I'm keeping an open mind.
[ Because he has no idea exactly what he's looking for. But hopefully it comes off that he's just someone who has all the options in the world... ]
[As Astarion takes his time in answering Halsin's query, Gale settles into the remaining seat— in front of the desk, just beside Astarion's own— and finds himself watching the other man intently as he listens, curious as to what might have brought him here. Surely, with his history, he could have gone anywhere, to any label; Gale remembers some media chatter about troubles Astarion may have had offstage, but he had learned long ago to take such things with a grain of salt— or several.
Those pieces were always filled with twisted half-truths and speculation, and none of them ever considered the actual pain the subject might be experiencing, or how having their private matters publicized might impact them. Having his own disastrously messy divorce plastered across every gossip site and discussed in every magazine had made that more apparent to him than ever before. Whatever may or may not have been true regarding Astarion's career and disappearance from the spotlight, Gale is intensely curious about what had brought him here all the same.
There's an affect to the other man's voice that suggests some of what he says is what he thinks they want to hear, what he's supposed to say, but it still manages not to sound rehearsed. There's some truth in there, as well. It sounds different from the rest, however brief.
A fresh start. What follows resonates, as well, and Gale offers a reserved smile as he offers his response, keenly aware of the fact that Halsin is watching the both of them.]
I can certainly understand the desire for a fresh start. A chance to do something that's different— something that's your own.
[Gale had not only left his wife, but his former management, the person responsible for curating every part of his image, who decided what was and wasn't good enough to see the light of day. A fresh start was what had brought him here, as well.]
As it so happens, that sort of thing seems to be Halsin's passion. It's what brought me here, as well.
[The broad man behind the desk lets out a thoughtful hum as he leans back in his seat and steeples his fingers in front of him, inclining his head slightly as he considers Astarion's answer.]
"An open mind is good. I'll be honest; we received a number of auditions tapes, but yours was the one that interested me the most. Your talent, of course; you have a unique voice that I think the industry could stand to hear more of, but it's more than just that. I think the two of you are both in need of the same thing— an opportunity to reinvent yourselves."
[ Astarion is hoping to be understood, more than anything. What falls from his lips sounds good, but whether or not it's received as he intends is something else entirely. To some extent he's both used to being coddled by the public and ridiculed in the breath that follows. But conversations with other artists is something else entirely.
All of that discussion was mostly done through Cazador, wasn't it? Or an agent on Cazador's behalf. He's fairly certain that Violet was only as unhinged in her dealing as she tended to be was because Cazador had broken her down long before Astarion even came onto the scene. But she was useful at having difficult conversations when he didn't need to, if only because there wouldn't be a conversation.
There's relief when Gale seems to understand, and a bit of curiosity there as well. Also a fresh start? Gods, he wishes he could take ten—no, even five minutes to look the man up on his phone before continuing, but it will have to wait. For now, he needs to smile and nod like he, likewise, understands. Musician to musician. ]
Is it, now? A producer who takes risks.
[ Astarion's gaze shifts to Halsin just as the larger man begins to speak. He finally twists the cap to his bottle of water, breaking the seal. And Astarion is a risk these days rather than an investment. The feeling puts a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallows it. Is that what Gale is too? Or is he the investment here?
"To reinvent yourselves."
He looks at Gale again—really looks at him. There was a time when Astarion was better at reading people, back when he didn't use substances to dull his senses so he didn't need to remember what he saw. The man looks around his age, but there is a sort of inherent tiredness around the edges of his eyes. Or is Astarion imaging it because he's seen it so often in his own? (A little bit of liner helps disguise that.) ]
That sample, then— [ He starts, pausing only to take a swig of water. Bland. Safe. ] —is that the direction you were wanting to head in?
[He wishes he could say, with confidence, that he knew exactly what direction he wanted to head in— so far, as long as it was different, as long as Mystra had no part in it, it felt good enough, but he knows he won't be satisfied if he lets that be his only criteria. Whatever is next, it has to feel like his, like his voice— along with the voice of whoever it was he wound up collaborating with.]
It could be one of many. I'm still trying to find a new sound, something that feels authentic without echoing what I've been doing for the last few years. I'm hoping that your input might help with that. I've been writing songs on my own for ages, but having to consider someone else's voice and how they want to express themselves— that presents an interesting challenge, I think.
[It sounds good. More confident than he feels, surely, but he does his best to sell it with a smile. Many of the tapes they had received had been quite good, but there had been something about Astarion's that had grabbed him in a way the others hadn't— that he had turned out to be a singer Gale himself had long admired almost seemed too good to be true.]
I'd be interested in hearing how we sound together. If it's not too bold of me to say, the media hasn't been especially kind to either of us in recent years. Seems an excellent opportunity to make them eat their words, if we decide to take on this project together.
[ There's a certain freedom in what Gale says—it's not something Astarion is used to, being truly directionless. The only heading they both have is "not this", which gives them a seemingly infinite number of possible directions.
In the same breath, it makes it a little daunting. Astarion always had a rather involved agent and production company behind him. It wasn't just his music that was manufactured, it was everything about him. What he wore, who he saw, when he did what (and whom he did it with). Astarion yearned for the freedom for so long, yet now that he has it, the lack of structure makes him feel...a little adrift.
Not lost. Not yet. (Not after that public crash-out). But still sitting in this boat not sure way to paddle.
Gale doesn't seem to think that's daunting. The way he speaks makes it sound like it's an exciting new adventure. Astarion can fake it, but Gods Above what he would give for that sort of confidence right now.
That Gale mentions their more recent headlines does shake Astarion's already tenuous foundation. He masks it as he does with everything, raising a well-groomed brow in interest before putting on a sardonic smile. ]
No...no, it hasn't.
[ Astarion starts to twist the cap of his water bottle again. Headlines, headlines...what had he seen about Gale, recently? He really should take that five minute break to pull out his phone. But he does picture...there was a woman involved, right? Or is that just some advertisement he'd seen in a magazine?
Fuck. Just move on like you understand and it doesn't matter.
That he's aware of Astarion's...issues and is still willing to give him a chance is good enough for now. He has no doubt that Halsin has his pulse on it as well.
And he finds his smile turning a little more genuine at Gale's final comment. ]
But I am always in the mood for a little well-deserved comeuppance.
[ He takes another swig before leaning forward, making his necklace fall out of the very open neckline of his shirt. ]
So let's not leave that interest to "what-ifs" then, hm? I'd like to see you work.
[ He glances past the two men to the studio proper behind the glass. ]
[Gale's own smile tugs slightly to one side at the word comeuppance. He's never truly considered himself to be the vengeful sort, but right now, it's terribly appealing. What he wouldn't give to see the look on Mystra's face should he succeed without her having a hand in it— though perhaps it isn't wise of him to think that way, either.
You shouldn't care what she thinks anymore, whatever happens. You're done living your life for her.
He can feel doubt threatening to nag at him for a moment, but Astarion's suggestion is enough to give him a bit of renewed energy; he puts his best host mannerisms on and rises to his feet, inclining his head towards the glass.]
I think that can be arranged. You'll see fit to join me before too long, I hope.
[Already, he's thinking of what to play— nothing of his, the sting is too fresh and it's too counter to what he's hoping to achieve here. Nothing of Astarion's, either, for similar reasons.
A classic, surely. Something they'll both know well enough that they can easily pick it up and see if they can work alongside one another.
He turns towards the door, making a gesture and beckoning for both of the others to follow, should they so choose.]
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PLOTTING & OTHER NOTES
IT BEGINS
"It's too soon" is what his therapist at the center would have said, what Shadowheart has said. But who is going to be the judge of that but himself? Shouldn't Astarion be the expert on Astarion's well-being?
Except he knows that's a lie. He hasn't been for years, slowly moving from one moment to the next when he's in a haze and barely surviving the ones that weren't. The fact that the last two years in particular have been arguably the worst in his life, one could ask him why he's even trying again the first place. After all, isn't the music industry too much?
Isn't this what broke him?
But the appeal of a fresh start, something real, even small, is too tempting to pass up. Maybe that's just another symptom of his personality, finding small, fleeting thrills where he can. And why should this be any different? After all, his first attempt to start over had ended catastrophically. Publicly. Nationally. Internationally. There's a stain on his image that won't come out, no matter how much glitter he puts on.
He wasn't clean then, though. He is now. Three months and three weeks. And he needs to fill the hole in his life with something. And the only thing he knows other than drugs is music. So that's what he lands on.
Sending in audition tapes isn't unheard of, but he has to admit that the bit of a "test" was a new twist. He didn't want to try for anything where he'd have to send in his previous work. Not only could anyone find it on any torrenting website or streaming platform, but the whole ass point was to do something new. Something as Astarion. Something not tied to—...him.
He figured that it would be a good exercise, if nothing else. Slowly dip his toes back into something while he gets his feet on the ground on the outside world for the first time in an age. The first time as an adult. But the track that accompanied the lyrics was, admittedly...interesting. Different. A mix of familiar sounds in a new way. It piqued his curiosity.
So when he actually got a callback from this "Halsin", he felt a true blue jolt of excitement. And maybe an ounce of hope.
He steps out of his car, looking up at the unassuming building, kitty-cornered by an old warehouse and a taxidermist. There's a moment where he's not sure if he got the right address, but upon looping the building, the name "UnderDark Records" flashes in a deep purple. Admittedly, it's not a label he'd heard of before. It should be a sting to his ego. The Szarr label is known all across the Sword Coast. But...it isn't. There's some comfort in being a nobody, if even for an afternoon.
Astarion is much more nervous that he realizes one he steps into the building. There's a secretary up front—a tiefling with blue skin and pinkish hair—who looks up from her work, almost surprised to see someone walk in. ]
"Welcome to—"
[ There's a pause as her dark eyes widen a bit. ]
—let's just skip the formalities, darling. I'm here to see someone named "Halsin"?
[ She snaps out of it, quickly looking down to her large paper planner. One long nail drags across the 3:00 PM slot to "A.A".
Oh Halsin, you tease! she thinks. ]
"Yes! He's in Recording Room One. If you go up the stairs, it will be your second left."
[ Astarion does a little dramatic bow before turning to the stairway. Inwardly, he cringes a little. Not from being recognized, that was likely inevitable in the industry in this city, but more the performance he so easily slips into. Shouldn't he try to be different? Shouldn't he be trying to be—
...Who?
There's a pause as he stands as the top of the stairway, hand on the banister. How else should he be?
The thought hangs too heavy, so Astarion shakes it off and marches forward. It isn't as if this will amount to much, anyway. He knows to keep expectations low. If he just flirts a bit and has an afternoon out of his apartment, he will consider that a win.
"Recording 1" is painted on the second door to the left, with a couple of duck stickers posted around it. Cute. He can hear two voices behind the door and one definitely sounds like the man he spoke on the phone with. So, without further adieu, Astarion knocks once and waits for the "come in" before opening the door... ]
no subject
[This isn't the first meeting they'll have had with a prospective collaborator since Halsin had suggested they'd start taking auditions, but Gale can't let the fact that his manager of three months has a distinctly different energy about this one as they await their arrival. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the larger man even as a smile plays at his lips, pushing himself away from the desk where he'd been leaning over and looking at their combined notes before strolls over to the small counter and minifridge on the other side of the office, bending down to pull two bottles of water from the latter and holding one out in offering.]
You're decidedly up to something, aren't you?
[The project itself was an intriguing one— Gale had been excited by the prospect almost immediately; while he'd only ever been a solo artist, his entire purpose at the moment was to do something new, do something apart from the carefully-curated persona that Mystra had kept him restricted to. He still loved music as he always had; having his own taken from him was, admittedly, a devastating blow, but there was no better revenge than a life well-lived. If he couldn't have access to the music he'd already written, he would do something new, something that would turn heads. Something that was potentially risky, foolhardy— but most importantly, not hers.
Halsin lets out a low chuckle as he accepts the offered bottle, sinking back into his chair and settling in.]
"I don't know what you're on about. Are you always this suspicious?"
[Gale snorts, shaking his head slightly even as his smile persists.]
I'm beginning to think I ought to be. So far, we've—
[He cuts himself off immediately as he hears that knock at the door, curiously turning his head. Halsin, meanwhile, clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.]
"Please, come in."
no subject
What he opens the door to is, for all intents and purposes, a rather mediocre recording studio. The "Control Room" is small, which suits the building, with just enough space for a set of standard mixing boards and screens to sit on the other side of the glass. Though the live room boasts little more from what he can see, what matters are the two men that are in it.
The larger of the two's face seems to light up, however minutely, as Astarion's eyes dart between the two. ]
"Mister Ancunín! Glad to see you found our little studio without too much trouble."
[ He keeps a veneer of professionalism, though Astarion does notice the way his eyes also seem to flicker to the shorter man beside him, if just for a moment. Astarion (correctly) assumes the larger man is gauging his companion's reaction which is...expected, if a bit tiring. The bit of hope Astarion had dwindles a bit—if this is all a stunt for a reaction, then...he seriously hopes the fucking press isn't involved.
But Astarion is well-practiced in saving face, even if that mask has slipped over the last few years. He puts on an easy smile and steps into the studio, allowing the door to close behind him. ]
Please, "Astarion" is fine. You must be Halsin? I thought I recognized that timbre.
[ Halsin chuckles and sets the water bottle to the side and extends his hand for a proper greeting. Astarion takes it out of necessity, biting back how much he still dislikes touching anyone, especially strangers. Luckily, Halsin seems to stand on necessity as well and keeps the handshake short (or he senses something even Astarion doesn't realize he's putting out in the universe.) ]
"Good ears are why we asked you here. Let me introduce the man behind the music you heard..."
[ Astarion's gaze shifts. ]
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Welcome to UnderDa—
[The name hadn't sunk in; he'd only been half-listening, but when he lays eyes on their potential collaborator, it suddenly hits all at once.
Ancunín. Astarion Ancunín. There was no mistaking him, standing there in black and white and looking reasonably removed from how Gale had seen him plastered on magazine covers and posters, but still undeniably him.
He lets out a shocked peal of laughter, incredulous.]
Gods above, it's really you, isn't it? I can't believe I didn't recognize your voice— [It had been remarkably different from the sound he was used to hearing from Astarion, and he's never had the chance to hear him solo before.] Wonderful work, really; we loved what you did with the piece. Apologies, I'm babbling— I'm Gale.
[He knows that he's famous enough that his own name probably goes without saying, but much of what it's been attached to in recent months has been polarizing at best, with countless rumors still circulating about his marriage and his absence from the music scene, and more than that, it wouldn't be polite to just assume.
He holds a hand out in offering, eager to shake.]
Really, it's a pleasure to have the opportunity to meet you. Halsin, is this what you've been acting so dodgy about?
[The larger man simply smiles, shrugging fluidly.]
"I thought it would be better if you listened to the tapes not knowing, but I had a feeling you would like his."
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—or so he thought. That this man didn't recognize his voice is, well, it makes that little candle of hope burn a bit brighter again. That had been the point, hadn't it? To do something different and something him, away from manufactured the part he was supposed to play in a quintet. That his attempt, however improvised at the time, was not only not that but also worth listening to...worth following up on?
Maybe this is a good idea after all, at least for his ego. Take that, Shadowheart.
Astarion raises his brows through the stumbling as he pushes down on rising expectations in his chest. He glances from the man's brown, brown eyes to his hand but pauses for a moment, thinking. There's a bit of recognition behind his own blue eyes. ]
Gale...
[ He repeats, before finally taking that hand. His grip is fairly light, doing the minimum necessary. Some likely think it's that snobbishness that celebrities, let alone High Elves, are known for. He prefers that interpretation rather than the reality. But in the end, Gale may have reason to be a bit snobby himself. ]
From—
[ Astarion sounds casually questioning—or he hopes he does—but internally? He feels every second that passes between them. This is someone he should know, isn't it? He looks familiar. He's seen this face before. In a magazine? On a poster? On the television? Something, something—he's not just a background musician. He's done something. Something recent. And Astarion, Hells, Astarion should not be waltzing up anywhere acting like he owns the place without a decent idea on popular music from the last few months.
The years have been a haze. He's worked with other artists he couldn't pick out of a line up.
Who is this man? This man who thinks he might be worth something. This Gale— ]
...Waterdeep, right?
[ He quickly tries to cover up the pause he needed to shake his memories. ]
The pleasure's all mine, darling.
[ And takes his hand away as soon as he's able, lest the other man feel him sweat. He's right. He's right, isn't he? Yes, he's seen this man before with a guitar and maybe a piano and with a beautiful woman.
Yes, yes that sounds right. "Gale of Waterdeep". ]
Is that so?
[ So Halsin did this purposefully? Interesting...a slightly underhanded tactic, but still one that benefits him. And boots his confidence as an artist all in one go.
Astarion approves. ]
Well, I'm flattered to have made the cut. And that arrangement— [ He nods to Gale. ] —that was all you, then?
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Guilty as charged on all counts, I'm afraid. The piece is rather experimental, but it seemed like you took right to it.
[There was a quality he hadn't quite been able to pinpoint while listening to the audition, but it had stuck with him, followed him around in the days that followed like a pleasant sort of haunting.
Gale holds the unopened bottle of water out to him in opening, then gestures towards one of the seats in front of Halsin's desk, as though he were some assistant and not the artist being represented.]
Please, make yourself comfortable.
[Halsin himself chuckles as he returns to his own chair, having observed the exchange of pleasantries— if they could be called such— and decided that Astarion might have had his fill with the one handshake for now.]
"Really, we'd just like to talk and get to know you a bit, hear what it is you're interested in doing with yourself going forward. If you're interested and it seems a good fit, I thought maybe we'd have a listen at what you two sound like together, but all in good time. No need to rush it."
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It was...unconventional, I will say. [ But he doesn't sound terribly judgmental, despite his phrasing. ] But that might be something the industry sorely needs right now.
[ Yes, spoken like a true musician, right? Like he's got some sort of vision or plan for all this other than "is anyone even willing to accept me?" That question is still unanswered, but this is a step in the right direction.
Astarion accepts the bottle if just because he's glad to have something to do with his hands, but he doesn't make moves to open it. He does, however, make himself comfortable as offered, taking the other free seat as casually as possible. Like he belongs here. Like he's done this a hundred times. (Like his entire career wasn't because of an off-chance meeting as a teenager.)
Halsin's question is valid. They're supposed to be creatives, right? Have a vision? What if Astarion's vision is just not that? ]
Well...
[ He starts with a bit of laugh. He's lied in so man interviews. Being honest for once should be easy, right? ]
I guess it goes without saying you already know my history, but I'm looking for a— [ He pauses. It's not easy, because it means admitting you left something behind for a reason. But he forces it. ] —a fresh start.
[ Not incorrect, if underselling it. He motions with the hand not holding the water bottle in a general space behind himself. ]
I'm here without an entourage, after all. [ Now he sounds like a celebrity. Good? Good. He might need that sway. It's worked for him in the past. Gale is obviously a fan of some sort—or was, at any rate. ] And I'd like something a little less— [ Contrived. Controlled. Captive. ] —manufactured, if you catch my drift. I'd like to say I'm keeping an open mind.
[ Because he has no idea exactly what he's looking for. But hopefully it comes off that he's just someone who has all the options in the world... ]
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Those pieces were always filled with twisted half-truths and speculation, and none of them ever considered the actual pain the subject might be experiencing, or how having their private matters publicized might impact them. Having his own disastrously messy divorce plastered across every gossip site and discussed in every magazine had made that more apparent to him than ever before. Whatever may or may not have been true regarding Astarion's career and disappearance from the spotlight, Gale is intensely curious about what had brought him here all the same.
There's an affect to the other man's voice that suggests some of what he says is what he thinks they want to hear, what he's supposed to say, but it still manages not to sound rehearsed. There's some truth in there, as well. It sounds different from the rest, however brief.
A fresh start. What follows resonates, as well, and Gale offers a reserved smile as he offers his response, keenly aware of the fact that Halsin is watching the both of them.]
I can certainly understand the desire for a fresh start. A chance to do something that's different— something that's your own.
[Gale had not only left his wife, but his former management, the person responsible for curating every part of his image, who decided what was and wasn't good enough to see the light of day. A fresh start was what had brought him here, as well.]
As it so happens, that sort of thing seems to be Halsin's passion. It's what brought me here, as well.
[The broad man behind the desk lets out a thoughtful hum as he leans back in his seat and steeples his fingers in front of him, inclining his head slightly as he considers Astarion's answer.]
"An open mind is good. I'll be honest; we received a number of auditions tapes, but yours was the one that interested me the most. Your talent, of course; you have a unique voice that I think the industry could stand to hear more of, but it's more than just that. I think the two of you are both in need of the same thing— an opportunity to reinvent yourselves."
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All of that discussion was mostly done through Cazador, wasn't it? Or an agent on Cazador's behalf. He's fairly certain that Violet was only as unhinged in her dealing as she tended to be was because Cazador had broken her down long before Astarion even came onto the scene. But she was useful at having difficult conversations when he didn't need to, if only because there wouldn't be a conversation.
There's relief when Gale seems to understand, and a bit of curiosity there as well. Also a fresh start? Gods, he wishes he could take ten—no, even five minutes to look the man up on his phone before continuing, but it will have to wait. For now, he needs to smile and nod like he, likewise, understands. Musician to musician. ]
Is it, now? A producer who takes risks.
[ Astarion's gaze shifts to Halsin just as the larger man begins to speak. He finally twists the cap to his bottle of water, breaking the seal. And Astarion is a risk these days rather than an investment. The feeling puts a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallows it. Is that what Gale is too? Or is he the investment here?
"To reinvent yourselves."
He looks at Gale again—really looks at him. There was a time when Astarion was better at reading people, back when he didn't use substances to dull his senses so he didn't need to remember what he saw. The man looks around his age, but there is a sort of inherent tiredness around the edges of his eyes. Or is Astarion imaging it because he's seen it so often in his own? (A little bit of liner helps disguise that.) ]
That sample, then— [ He starts, pausing only to take a swig of water. Bland. Safe. ] —is that the direction you were wanting to head in?
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It could be one of many. I'm still trying to find a new sound, something that feels authentic without echoing what I've been doing for the last few years. I'm hoping that your input might help with that. I've been writing songs on my own for ages, but having to consider someone else's voice and how they want to express themselves— that presents an interesting challenge, I think.
[It sounds good. More confident than he feels, surely, but he does his best to sell it with a smile. Many of the tapes they had received had been quite good, but there had been something about Astarion's that had grabbed him in a way the others hadn't— that he had turned out to be a singer Gale himself had long admired almost seemed too good to be true.]
I'd be interested in hearing how we sound together. If it's not too bold of me to say, the media hasn't been especially kind to either of us in recent years. Seems an excellent opportunity to make them eat their words, if we decide to take on this project together.
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In the same breath, it makes it a little daunting. Astarion always had a rather involved agent and production company behind him. It wasn't just his music that was manufactured, it was everything about him. What he wore, who he saw, when he did what (and whom he did it with). Astarion yearned for the freedom for so long, yet now that he has it, the lack of structure makes him feel...a little adrift.
Not lost. Not yet. (Not after that public crash-out). But still sitting in this boat not sure way to paddle.
Gale doesn't seem to think that's daunting. The way he speaks makes it sound like it's an exciting new adventure. Astarion can fake it, but Gods Above what he would give for that sort of confidence right now.
That Gale mentions their more recent headlines does shake Astarion's already tenuous foundation. He masks it as he does with everything, raising a well-groomed brow in interest before putting on a sardonic smile. ]
No...no, it hasn't.
[ Astarion starts to twist the cap of his water bottle again. Headlines, headlines...what had he seen about Gale, recently? He really should take that five minute break to pull out his phone. But he does picture...there was a woman involved, right? Or is that just some advertisement he'd seen in a magazine?
Fuck. Just move on like you understand and it doesn't matter.
That he's aware of Astarion's...issues and is still willing to give him a chance is good enough for now. He has no doubt that Halsin has his pulse on it as well.
And he finds his smile turning a little more genuine at Gale's final comment. ]
But I am always in the mood for a little well-deserved comeuppance.
[ He takes another swig before leaning forward, making his necklace fall out of the very open neckline of his shirt. ]
So let's not leave that interest to "what-ifs" then, hm? I'd like to see you work.
[ He glances past the two men to the studio proper behind the glass. ]
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You shouldn't care what she thinks anymore, whatever happens. You're done living your life for her.
He can feel doubt threatening to nag at him for a moment, but Astarion's suggestion is enough to give him a bit of renewed energy; he puts his best host mannerisms on and rises to his feet, inclining his head towards the glass.]
I think that can be arranged. You'll see fit to join me before too long, I hope.
[Already, he's thinking of what to play— nothing of his, the sting is too fresh and it's too counter to what he's hoping to achieve here. Nothing of Astarion's, either, for similar reasons.
A classic, surely. Something they'll both know well enough that they can easily pick it up and see if they can work alongside one another.
He turns towards the door, making a gesture and beckoning for both of the others to follow, should they so choose.]
Any requests, either of you?