#5 (another disaster) hildalys idol AU

Hilda wasn’t sure to comment as she is being dragged out to some geek conference.

Well, to put it simply, it really is a geek conference—something something to get your limited-time idol stuffs for free, and it is of a national scope of occurrence. No, someone as fashionable as her actually doesn’t have the slightest idea to willingly visit such place, if not with a request by her friend, her partner-in-crime slash her neighbor Claude.

Claude is maybe one eccentric people Hilda ever meet, but never in her wildest imagination would the pinkette think that Claude is into idols.

These idols are not your regular type of TV commercial level or infamous stage-performer idols. They are idols born through the influence of social media exposure and also some that you might say as “underground” idol. They performed in small stages, in leisure cafes, or sometimes bars that located underground, hence it’s the moniker that they got. The once a year events like this market, geek conference whatever is actually a boost from the government for them, as the creative market is growing steadily nowadays as a part of entertainment-related attraction.

Then again, it is all looking at the bright side – Hilda couldn’t really stand when she saw the sight of people that looks … even geekier than how Claude is with his orange tee (with something that Hilda unable to comprehend written there, doko—what?) below his colorful aloha shirt. There was this guy with his belongings strapped to several similar badges of one idol. There also this guy who’s basically walking with a banner of one of the idols as if it is a flag of independence.

Hilda was grateful that it is not as packed as she would expect it to be, she can ask for Claude to stop everywhere to take a breather from this ~fascinating~ sight.

‘You are the only muscle I can ask for help,’ Claude said to her yesterday, before shoving her another bribery of some set of makeups that she has been gunning. ‘Please, Hilda. Just this once.’

Turned out, Claude really wanted her to help carry his things. He bought a lot of merchandise, ranging from another orange tees and some posters, also some albums. Midway, he was saying that without a helping hand, he’ll be in a big trouble once he took a train back; Hilda can only slouch her shoulders in resignation and carry on.

Sometimes, he’d wander his attention to the circular stage set up by the center of all the available booth. When some background music tuned up in the speakers and DJs started to sprawl in making their entrance, Claude will tap his phone on to check on the stage schedule.

“God, it’s her turn.”

“Who’s turn?” Hilda repeated. Though Claude proceeded to take out something from one of the tote bags they got – two light sticks. Hilda was awed at how fast Claude cracked both of them to channel out the neon orange color.

“The Angel!” was only Claude’s answer as he bolted off to join the crowd of orange marching through the stage area.

Hilda sighed, unknown for how many times of the day, opting to not follow Claude and stayed with his loots at someplace safe, while waiting for whatever Angel is coming to grace the stage. There is this big TV at the booth area where people started to gather to watch as well, since the stage has reached a suffocating amount of heads chanting prayers while swinging orange sticks.

True, the girl who came out later is an angel – her smile is wide when greeting the audience, almost as if sending the utmost spark of (holy? Holy) energy. Her short stature complimented well with her angelic outfit of small wings and frilly blue dress. Her orange hair looked that it is kept to its natural curls on the bottom.

It is sometimes said that idols hide their age, despite the claim of being ‘late in their teens’, but Claude’s Angel sure looked youthful and just, brimming with youthfulness.

“Everyoooone, how about Beasty Beast Songs today!?”

Hilda blinked, wondering if it really is the song title. The crowd grown even wilder, then the weird lyrics started no long after a retro intro from the house DJ. Hilda could only conjure something about a girl facing a monster and then proceed to win the battle by throwing magic to explosion.

“Surely Claude has his taste … yeah.” The pinkette nodded to herself. “She is definitely a type that will gauge Claude’s interest.”

Just like any other performer, the stage lasted for two songs. But then, suddenly the crowd riled up once again as The Angel left the stage with another song hint. The oranges started to shift into purple and white, as if knowing of what will happen next.

Claude approached her from the crowd, the two sticks from earlier already dimmed of light. He requested for his prepared bottle of water, so Hilda handed the bottle to him, along with an orange-colored towel she spotted right beside the bottle.

“Huh? You didn’t stay until the next one?”

“Angel is done for today,” Claude said. “The Death will come next.”

“The … what now?” Hilda shook her head. “Is this really idol stage or just a purgatory in disguise?”

“Well, Angel and Death frequently doing collaborations cover and originals in their FodlanTube channel, though they are two idols with different personality, I assure you.”

“Yeah, the name is apparent already, Claude-kun.” Hilda noted. Of course anyone will know about that. The black and white image. Even though there’s the phrase of ‘Angel of Death’.

“Then, what now? Shall we head back, then?”

“Sure, lemme cool off first for some minutes. The call and response was so crazy earlier.”

The stage was silent. The DJ was there doing remixes of the said background song but it was oddly silent. Knowing the name ‘death’, Hilda imagined the idol would be making an entrance with some fancy black smoke or dressed like a reaper with scythe. Although Hilda’s apprehension to idol world is quite limited, she knew that there’s one who entertained with such performer with ‘unique personalities’. Hilda was sure she heard about this from Claude as something called ‘fetishes’, but to the hell with terminologies, she’s not there to learn of this part of the world, never.

The lamp on the stage dimmed, leaving a single concentrated spotlight right beside the DJ table. The ‘Death’ came to the stage without anything black, rather, the person is wearing a white hood. The DJ handed a strange-shaped guitar to the hooded person. The guitar was close to V-shaped, but it is modded to the point that it looked more like a tail of something.

The idol took off their hood, revealing a skull black mask, then they jammed to the guitar.

(Wait, is this even … idol? Where’s that cutesy little things?)

“Hilda, your mouth is hanging open.”

“I know.”

“It’s … simply her usual stunts.”

“Huh, ‘her’? It’s a she?”

Claude smirked. “Just wait and see.”

The metal-esque jamming session muted after a hard finish. The audience started to clap in tempo instead of cheering applauses, they should’ve been knowing what’s coming. The mask is away from sight now, leaving a baby-faced girl behind, with a boring-looking red eyes. Her hair flown freely now, strands of white alike her hooded jacket. The DJ swapped the strange guitar with a normal, acoustic wood guitar.

She tapped on the stand mic. Her voice was smooth, though a little bit cranky around the end. “Are you all ready for the Death Marching?”

The crowd answered with a peaked fervor – while anyone else might be taken aback with such catchphrase. Then, the combo of acoustic and electronic dance music flood the floor.

“… Say, Claude-kun.”

“Hmm?”

“Mind sending me her FodlanTube channel link right now?”