Prompt:
Your character arrives at the audition area. Their name is called out and they are shown to the stage where they are informed that they will be singing a song that they have written.

The aim of this round is to show how your character behaves in unusual situations.

You'll have to include a bit of a song that your character has written and show them singing it.

You can show the audience, the sights and smells and the appearance of the star judges. No plagiarism. Do not use any song that you haven't come up with yourself!

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Meixong's shoulders brushed uncomfortably against someone else's, their eye twitching as their jaw clenched. Not that they could take it out of the offender. With all the contestants—people and creatures from all walks of life and worlds—crowded onto a too-small stage, none of the contact was intentional.

"Alright, people!" Sky Barlow, the host, said all too cheerfully. The judges sat behind him on another raised platform. "We have decided what your first challenge will be! Miss Rhojeka, if you would please announce their task."

The young woman sitting between Avise and what looked to be a yellow bear stood, gracing everyone with a smile. She must've chosen the task, Meixong noted, catching the twinkle of excitement in Rhojeka's eyes.

"Your first challenge is..." she paused in suspense, "writing and performing your own song!"

Groans erupted amongst the crowd, but Meixong found themself relaxing, grinning something wicked.

Perhaps being trained in the Five Purities has its advantages after all. They chuckled to themself. That, and the lullabies A-Yun love gave me some practice.

Rhojeka continued once the din calmed. "To clarify, you must write your own song. No cheating by using an existing song! When creating a song, you need to sing your own story, your own emotions, and your own experiences. Songs are stories weaved into melodies. You have a week to prepare. I'm expecting great things from this audition!"

"You off to the side."

Meixong turned to the unfamiliar voice, realizing it belonged to the sour-faced man at the other end of Avise, oily hair lying still as he laid scrutinous eyes on them.

"Why do you look so pleased with this news?" he drawled. "Are you also a frivolous, petty bard?"

Rhojeka gave the oily man a scalding glare, but Meixong spoke before any altercation could arise.

"Not quite a bard, but my culture values what are called the Five Purities. They are traits that supposedly make you more desirable and sophisticated, and writing is one of them. Even as a minor noble, I was taught how to write various forms of poetry and lyrical arts since I was young. As for singing," they shrugged, "my son enjoys my voice, so I'm assuming I have at least some talent."

The oily man sneered. "We will see."

Meixong raised a brow at that, but otherwise gave no reaction.

"Oh-kay, Professor Snape," Sky stepped in, a nervous laugh bubbling out of him as he tried easing the tension. "As you said, we will have to see. So, everyone, let's, uh...oh, right! As much as Miss Rhojeka would love to hear full songs from each and every one of you, there are still quite a lot of you. Please keep your lyrics down to one verse and a chorus. And your time starts...Now! See you in a week!"

It took no convincing for Meixong to leave the stage. They wanted to return to their room as soon as possible to get started. Unlike the compulsion to continue on a journey like last time, the need to win influenced them. The faster they won, the sooner they could return to their world.

The image of a toddling boy flashed in their mind, soon followed by a man's face—his loving expression blurring all too quickly. Longing tugged at their heartstrings, as did the faint threads of inspiration.

*    *    *    *    *

Meixong took a deep, calming breath. In front of large crowds of people, being the sole attention, putting on an act...all the things they were intimately familiar with. They wouldn't have lasted this long as a general with any less of a backbone. And yet, they still felt it, the gnawing maw of anxiety burrowing deep into their psyche. Perhaps it was the lack of soothing words of their dragon or even the fact that this was technically something they'd never done before, but as more and more names were called, the more dread they felt.

Or maybe you wrote something that hit a little too close to home, Meixong mocked themself. Artistically, they knew songs and poems gave you a chance to lay your soul bare, but after being in a war for so long, they almost forgot how to take down their walls entirely.

"That was, uh...an interesting performance. Uniquely done!" Sky awkwardly praised as the last contestant exited the stage. "But let's see if our next contestant can top that! Please welcome on stage, General Hark Meixong!"

Meixong managed not to roll their eyes from their title being connected to something like this. They sure didn't feel like one now. Nonetheless, they strode onto the stage, squaring their shoulders and keeping an even, confident rhythm in their step. In the eyes of the public, everything boiled down to a performance.

They ignored the roar of polite applause, focusing on their breathing as they stood before a metal stick with a detachable device on the end—they learned it was called a microphone yesterday. It only took a few moments for everything to die down, claps turning into murmurs. The judges sat in the same places as before, and Meixong flashed a sly grin at Snape just as the backtrack began. They still didn't quite understand the magic of the hall—the music from their heart coming to life in moments—but they were grateful for the soothing, melodic tune that filled the space.

Just as they pulled a small, clear crystal—the highest grade amplific quartz they could find—from their pocket, the air rippled above them. They cradled the quartz in their palm as a scene slowly began taking shape. To their left formed the inky illustration of a mountain, and to their right, at the base of the mountain, formed a river. Before the first notes were sung, two flowers—a red lily at the top of the mountain and a pink lily at the base—sprouted. On the side of the mountain rose a sun, unbearably bright.

The sun scorches through mountain heights
Two lilies bracing for its light
One sits defiant on the snowy peaks
While the other sits lonely below

In the sun's light, the red lily bloomed large enough to cast a shadow over the pink lily below. The petals near glowed, orange streaks contrasting sharply and seeming to give it life. But its brilliance only lasted for a moment, soon fading and wilting.

Though the valley grieves, and the mountain seeks
Touching the sun and blooms, flower full
Color seeps and dulls

More slowly than the red, the pink lily bloomed next, but in the shade of the red, it looked pale in comparison, softened by white outlines. Its head drooped towards the river, dew falling heavily from each petal. The red lily continues to block the harsh sun's rays.

While the mountain seeks, and the valley grieves
Choked on the earth with tears that never dry
But the sun burns deep

Meixong tensed in concentration, fingers flexing as if they wanted to grip the quartz. A new scene rapidly took shape. While the mountain and river valley remained, both lilies shifted into two figures, a man and a woman. The man stood on the mountain, facing away from the woman, while the woman looked up at the man. The images were too small for anyone to be sure, but from the judges' perspective, they could almost make out the woman's mouth moving along to the song.

Lily of the Mountain, why did you reach for the sky
Where you wither swiftly, doomed to never thrive
In the shadow of fear, take your last stand in life
Cursed flames that light up the sky

The man turned to face the woman, a small smile gracing his face as he slowly broke away, each piece burned by the sun. At last, the shadow fell away. Light lit up across the valley, causing the tears on the woman's face to evaporate. Yet she didn't wither or break as the man did. Instead, the river grew wide enough to lick at her heels. She refused to look away from the sun.

Lily of the Valley, keep your head high to the sun
Your love's lasting moments, he's already won
Though you grieve, keep breathing, soak through the earth your fears
Root your ground, your victory is near

Face it well and shoot down the sun

Emotions echoed deeply as Meixong lowered the quartz, the last note reverberating around the stage. Acceptance, adoration, and deeper still, pain and grief. These were all emotions they had already dealt with, but it was moments like these when they all resurfaced. Once they let them pass—freeing themself to feel those emotions rage and then calm—they looked to the judges, tucking the crystal back into their pocket.