Light of the Waxing Crescent

He was a young man with long jet-black hair and blue eyes sitting silently within the cabin of the transport. His face was clean-shaven, and he wore a black shirt with the outline of a guitar printed on it, the expression on his face seeming to speak of a slight discomfort as the craft touched down on the landing pad below. He looked out the window as is happened, seeing the hundreds and hundreds of people that had gathered already to watch the arrival. There were banners and posters and camera crews everywhere, all packed tightly behind a short steel fence along the edge of the pavement. The young man turned away from the window and pulled the shade down over it, leaning back against his seat and looking up at the ceiling above in silence. There were two other young men in the cabin as well, each distinctly different in appearance from the other. One held a pair of drumsticks in his hands and had short dark hair. He was slightly overweight and seemed not too concerned about his appearance, as he appeared to not have shaven in a very long time. The second young man, on the other hand, had long blonde hair and was slim and physically fit. He held a small synthesizer keyboard in his lap, and he had a large pair of headphones plugged into the instrument as he played it. A man in a suit and tie walked into their section of the cabin. He was a tall, stern-faced man with dark hair and glasses. All three young men looked up at him. He addressed them, “Apollo, Jeff, Steve, your rides are ready to go. I’ll get in touch with you if anything comes up, and if you have any questions, just give me a call.” He paused, nodding his head. “Guys, you did a great job. This was a very successful tour. You should all be proud.”