Page 97 of Discordant Cultivation

“What about No-Nox?” Kieran asked, another sip of vodka making his words feel less careful. “He seemed... intense.”

“He’s controversial. Known for pushing artists way out of their comfort zones. But here’s what I learned early on—if you push back just as hard, he respects it. Starts treating you like an equal instead of someone to boss around.” Vander flicked ash into an empty cup. “Only the weak artists end up complaining about him later.”

His arms tingled where the cuts from Vale’s first lesson had long healed. He tried to push back then.

It didn’t work.

“What about working with Vale Rose?” Vander asked, genuine curiosity threading through his voice. “Dude’s got this reputation for finding incredible talent nobody else sees coming. I’ve heard that landing his interest is like winning a fucking golden ticket.”

“He’s v-v-very—” Kieran’s stutter caught harder as alcohol loosened his control. “He’s very d-dedicated to authentic p-performance.”

Vander’s expression shifted. “How does that work? The rapping, the singing, all that spoken word stuff you do—your voice is completely different when you perform.”

“It just h-happens,” Kieran said, taking another drink like he was trying to hide behind the bottle. “It’s the only t-time my mouth w-wants to cooperate with my m-mind.”

“Damn, man. That’s deep.” Vander studied Kieran with new appreciation. “No wonder your performances feel so real. Music is like your native language.”

Music as native language. I’ve never thought of it like that.

He didn’t know what he should say. What was he allowed to say?

Where was Vale?

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d be here tonight. I didn’t feel like networking with suits, but I wanted to tell you how much I respect what you do. The honesty, the innovative approach you have—and I never once doubted that seizure in ‘Temple of Flesh’ was real. It looked like some PA hit the post button too soon.”

“That’s... surprisingly accurate,” Kieran admitted. “I’ll be honest, I-I-I was scared to c-come in here. I f-feel like I don’t belong.”

Vander laughed and ashed his cigarette on the ground as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Dude, I still feel like I don’t belong in places like this. It’s imposter syndrome, you know? Plus musicians aren’t exactly known for being people with healthy coping skills, that’s why all that commotion was happening out there. Fucking Alex Thayer showed up high. Again.”

Kieran set the bottle between his thighs. Was that what Vale went to take care of? “I’ve n-never heard of him.”

“He’s not blacklisted exactly, but he’s extremely difficult to work with. He plays like ten instruments, he had a really short lived indie solo thing, but he freaks out if you breathe in the same space as him.” Vander shrugged. “Usually you have to get really famous before you have that level of crazy on display, but he must have connections, because he keeps finding work.”

The door opened suddenly and Nox poked his head in. “Vander, god dammit, you’re not supposed to smoke in here,” he said as he walked in.

Vander rolled his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette before he stubbed it out on the coffee table. “Sorry, sorry. I was just having a chat with Thorn. I was trying to get to know him before I asked if he wanted to collaborate with me for my solo album.”

Vander Moss wants to do a song…with me?Kieran wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.

“You’re going to have to deal with the brick wall that is Vale Rose for that,” Nox said as he moved into the room, his eyes meeting with Kieran’s. His gaze made Kieran want to sink into the couch cushions and disappear. “By the way, Vander, that representative from Gibson I mentioned earlier is at the bar, they wanted to talk to you about some limited edition thing?”

Vander jumped up, “Oh shit! That’s right. Thanks, Mr. Nox.” He headed for the door, then flashed a smile at Kieran. “Dude, I’m serious about a collab. I’d love to work with you.”

Kieran could only nod, feeling his throat tighten like he was about to burst into tears. Someone he spent years admiring—no, idolizing—wanted to write a song. With him. It felt like a fever dream.

The door closed behind Vander as Nox settled onto the couch next to Kieran—too close, close enough that Kieran could smell his cologne. The vodka that had felt warm and loosening now sat heavy in his stomach. He glanced back toward the door. He needed to get up, to go back to the bar and find Vale.

He said to get him if there was someone from Two Suns Studios. Nox is the whole studio. But he’s a big name…am I being rude if I just get up and walk out?

Kieran felt frozen. He needed Vale to tell him what to do.

“You don’t really want to be wearing all that gauze, do you?” Nox asked, grabbing Kieran’s wrist.

“I don’t m-mind it,” Kieran said, trying to pull his arm away. Nox tightened his grip. “P-please let—”

“Interesting aesthetic choice. Are you hiding something under these? Tattoos?Scars?“ Nox’s gaze flicked toward the door, then back to Kieran, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m curious about the technical aspects of your recordings. The acoustics differ quite a bit between ‘Library Card’ and your earlier work, butyour voice quality remains remarkably clean. What kind of post-production mixing are you doing?”

Kieran’s throat felt dry. “I don’t—I don’t handle the m-mixing. That’s Vale and Eliza.”