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Darkness. That's the first thing that Alanoth could remember about Harper Rock. The darkness of the empty street, the darkness of the sky above him that had lacked any stars, and the darkness of his mind that frightened him so much. Right now, as that same young Necromancer looked around the main floor of the establishment known as the Necropolis, he felt that same darkness creeping in to his mind.

It was all the fault of those he had become attached to really. Angele was gone. Octavia was gone. Corin was gone. Alexandrea was gone. Everyone was gone. Now all he could see was darkness, everyone was black and white to him, vampires and humans alike. He sighed, a deep, sad sound that echoed the emptiness within his soul. Then again, how could one who bainshed or summoned the dead even have a soul?

Then he saw the grand piano, the one often used by Lancaster-one of the very well known staff members around here-and his memories were sparked back to his Bloodline's first generation. Keara Aithne...and the songs he had played for her...Not really sure what he was going to play, or even if he was allowed to do so, he grabbed a nearby human patron's drink and downed it in one gulp. The man stood to protest, but the ill complexion of Alanoth's skin stopped him, and he sat down again slowly.

Alanoth set the empty glass aside, then strode up to the grand piano, adjusting the bench for ease of access to all of the keys, with their black and white harmony. Some people near the piano had noticed him take a seat, and whispered to other nearby patrons, wondering if anyone knew who he was. As he stretched his fingers and stared at the keyes, mesmerized, it was agreed that this was a complete stranger.

He played an F first, to test the piano's tunage, then a high B flat. An inspiration came to him, and he began playing some opening bars. The song was familiar to the adult crowd, some of the older folk as well as the younger generations who knew anything about Billy Joel, and then he began to sing, so softly you had to quiet your heart if you were more than three tables away.

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin

He says, "Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke
But there's someplace that he'd rather be

He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me"
As a smile ran away from his face
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place"

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talking with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinking alone

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me they've been coming to see
To forget about life for a while

And the piano sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say "Man what are you doing here?"

Sing us a song you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feeling alright

He held out the last vocal note for an impressive minute long, while playing the ending rhythm twice more, at a slower tempo, in order to extend the song for his crowd's enjoyment. Why was he playing anyway? Was it to cover up his grief over the loss of his sister? Was it a memoir to the first generation vampire who had saved him from suicide for the time being? Who knew? And who cared?

Oh the song of sorrow, Simon Ward knew the tone quite well (the song too, not so much with the piano though). Sitting down in a corner that was within earshot of the piano Simon's foot tapped. He moved back with the rhythm of the song. The sad piano player was good, quite good in fact. When the notes died down a drink was held up out of respect. Downing his drink seconds later Simon felt the burn of his concoction. Whatever the drink was just burned. It was only picked because the name sounded cool.

Shoulder length hair was tied into a ponytail, a three quarter length leather coat rested comfortably on him, a plain purple shirt and just some black jeans, this was Simon's look for the evening. Eventually he made his way to the piano where the sad man sang his song. "I find Karma Police is good on the piano. Could be a good venting piece if you just channel the emotion," the words were thoughtful as Simon tried to speak to the man as one performer to another. "Sorry about your loss piano man."