Except, ever since he’d come back from the Shadow Realm, those ideas were few and far between. He hadn’t written a single thing, and nor had he yet taken to the stage at Lancaster’s. It was frustrating, the way his inspiration seemed to have just… disappeared, dried up like water from a pond in the middle of the scorching summer heat.
Rather than try to force it, Lancaster sighed and pushed away from the bright white Mac. He walked from the small room and into the apartment proper, plucking his phone from the countertop. There was one person he had not seen in a while; one who did not have the d’Artois blood running through her veins, but who he saw as one of his own regardless. Someone who shared his own opinions and thoughts. She disappeared for a while, but that was to be expected. Lancaster himself wanted to disappear once in a while. Get of town. Pretend like everyone was normal when it clearly was not. Maybe he’d succeeded for a while, which was why he hadn’t had any trouble with his music. But now that he had seemingly accepted everything, he was far too focused on what was wrong with this city that it crushed every ounce of optimism he had inside of him. It was almost as if the darkness of the Realm had sunk into his soul and now there was not a single drop of brightness left. He needed to bring that back. And he needed to do so by surrounding himself with people who fought against the same things that he did.
And Charlotte was one of the first.
Scrolling through his contacts, he found Charlotte’s number and hit the little green call button, before lifting the gadget to his ear. He could have course contact her telepathically. But, Lancaster being Lancaster, he preferred to do things normally. As humanly as possible.