May 7th, 2015
Mikhail had expressed no desire to return to the rock star lifestyle after what had happened to the band of his younger years. Severed Head had once been one of the most famous Death Metal bands in North Triston, in which he had been the lead guitarist from the tender age of 15 years. A number of bands had contacted him when their guitarists had left or died, but every time he had rejected them, not wanting to risk going through what he had again. He remembered the many fights he'd had with his band's drummer, a human with bright ginger hair named Robert Davidson, and had finally discovered what he was hiding when he was arrested in a bank and given a fifteen year prison sentence for money laundering and gun running for the Cartel operating around the Smokestacks area of South Triston. Consequently, the band's lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist, a gold bat named Victor Hargreaves, had reached his breaking point and immediately broken up the band, and never got in touch with any of his then present or past bandmates again.
Sometimes he wondered where his life would have led if Robert had never got involved with drug barons, loansharks and arms dealers. Maybe he would still be performing now. Maybe he would have seen his dream die in a very different way. Maybe he would never have met the love of his life, the black and white skunk who stood before him watching him with adoring eyes and clutching their young daughter in her arms. Indeed, Belle had encouraged him to keep playing, as she saw his ability to play the guitar as something he should embrace and be proud of instead of hiding away from. He still had the same guitar he started with all the way back in 1993, and every time he held it, the memories of his fondest days in the band returned. Indeed, an idea was forming in his mind. He wanted to surprise his love and their cub.
"I've been saving this one for you two." said Mikhail as he attached the stage lights he'd kept to the living room ceiling. "And for you, I don't spare anything."
"I keep telling you," said Belle, "you're too good to me. You don't have to give me an early birthday present."
"I insist, my love." Not to be swayed, Mikhail began to play his composition, which, while much softer and more calming than the music he was used to playing, was interspersed with a song he sang in his native Latvian. With the pieces of the language they'd learned from him, both Belle and Peggy began to sing along. Soon, the instrument he had seen as tainted by Robert's actions would be blessed by his girlfriend and daughter's love. He wanted it no other way.
And now here's a brilliant gift, made for me by none other than a dear old friend of mine for my birthday last year, ReokuKurosai. Skunks don't always have to stink, even though they can spray - there's plenty of other things they can do, as Mikhail demonstrates here. Old dreams and legacies stick around for a long time, and it seems there are some things that just cannot be let go of. ^^