Spirit
New Member
Quod Sum Eris
Posts: 43
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Post by Spirit on Jun 8, 2005 21:05:50 GMT -5
The rhythmic beat of the city pounded in his blood, the faraway sounds of carhorns, groaning steel, and the endless murmur of people converged into one, creating a mad melody of its own, one that stirred his blood even as it calmed his soul, the music the club's speakers pumped out thrumming through his body. His skin was the creamy color of burnt sienna, his sleeveless turtleneck top revealing as much as it concealed, black as a raven's wing, as well as his pants. His toned muscles gleamed with a fine sheen of perspiration, his hips swayed with every beat of the wild music, and with every brush of warm flesh, every touch of living breath, he knew he was not alone. With the crush of human life surrounding him, it was hard not to forget how long the years had stretched, nor how troublesome they'd been. The music took him to heights not even wings could take him, to clouds his soul would rest, if but for a while.
His sable locks fell messily into his eyes, caressing his cheeks, brushing the nape of his neck. Kohl darkened the rims of his eyes, the lightest touch of eyeshadow could be seen, and black ink traced a runic design down the curve of his cheek, then breaking in three points. He was a dazzling, beautiful creature of the night, dancing with a loneliness and a passion that drew many eyes of both genders. Eyes that followed the slender curves of his body, eyes that drank the sight of his gyrating muscles, eyes that hungrily stared at those tapering hands, wondering what might their touch feel like.
But he was no one's pet, a fey animal to be seen and heard, but never touched. Alike to a panther caught in the wild and forced to spend eternity behind bars, while his heart remembered the joy of running free. Akin to the captured hawk, whose wings would never forget the open skies. He was Darius Eramus Nightwind, a force unto himself, for within those Night black eyes, there was a feral strength and secrets - secrets unlike anything before. He knew the tales the wind whispered at night, he knew of the moonlight's dance, he knew the color of the earth's blood. He knew the bitterness of loss and the courage to find hope again, he knew the name of despair. Such as it was, no matter how beautiful he was, no one would approach him and so, even in the illusion of warmth and belonging, he was alone.
OoC: Yes, it's set in a night club called The Hot Spot (if anyone has a suggestion for a better name, please tell me) and yes, he's not human. ^^ And the intro is short. X3 A plus?
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Post by Mullet Fish on Jun 13, 2005 20:24:39 GMT -5
A young man sat at a table in a corner of the night club. A glass of water with two melting ice cubes sat in front of him, untouched. He sat sideways, watching the crowds without much interest. He adjusted the collar of a light gray shirt and toyed with the top button absently. The man spared a glance at his watch. Just past midnight. He felt the low rumble of a passing truck, the noise drowned out by the music. The water rippled slightly, enough to make him notice it. He picked it up and sipped it tentatively. The ice cubes pressed against a bit of stubble above his top lip. He shifted slightly and felt his shirt, slightly damp with sweat, press against his back. It was a warm, clammy feeling that he didn't much care for. He sipped the water again. It's so bloody claustrophobic in here, he thought, feeling suddenly trapped, like he couldn't breathe. He was careful not to let it show, took a few deep breaths of the stale air and drummed his fingers on the table. He checked his watch again and frowned. He needed some air. He stood up, straightened the navy jeans that hung around his hips and began pushing through droves of people. He pushed a young girl aside gently, grasped the wrist of a drunken pickpocket, elbowed a confused looking person in the gut, pushing him aside. This was nonsense, he was better than this. He continued on this route for what seemed like an eternity. Shoving his way between walls of wildly dancing flesh. He shuddered slightly. All this human contact was starting to drive him insane. He was the sort of person who enjoyed being isolated, and avoided social contact except with his closest friends, of which he had few. He ran a hand through short blonde hair that was damp with sweat. Finally, when he thought he could bear it no longer, he emerged from the writhing mass of dancers. He straightened his shirt and headed up a short flight of well-used stairs, pushing though a door that led outside. He shuddered, and began brushing himself off, the cool air making his sweat feel suddenly uncomfortably cold. Cars roared past at frightening speeds, but they didn't bother him, nor most of the people in the city. He leaned against the wall, for a moment wished he smoked or did something that calmed his nerves, if only temporarily. He shook his head, closed his eyes and fought for control. He got it, looked up and started to head back inside.
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Spirit
New Member
Quod Sum Eris
Posts: 43
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Post by Spirit on Jun 13, 2005 22:32:59 GMT -5
Coated with a fine sheen of perspiration, he glimmered in the flashing lights, his breathing fast, his heartbeat matching the fast-paced melody. He danced for the pure sake of movement, and it was quite the movement he danced. He felt so many eyes raking across his skin, it mattered but little. His black locks fell across his eyes, and he licked his lips with a tongue as dry as paper. Dancing was a master's art, and hard work, and with no little disappointment to his fans did he leave the dance floor. As Darius parted the crowds and worked his way to the bar, attention peeled away from him, seeking out more lively entertainment. However, a few were persistant. Darius knocked on the wooden bar, holding up two fingers, and the bartender, knowing what he asked for, served him a double shot of vodka. The pleasures of being a regular. The man slipped into an empty seat, rolling his head across his shoulders, revelling in that heated, throbbing in his muscles, a dance well done. A smattering of giggles broke into his thoughts and his black eyes swung to his left, viewing the two ladies who looked back at him and continued to laugh.
They not ugly, by no means. They might've walked out of a magazine, their dresses falling just right, their hair styled so perfectly. Darius scorned them immediately, even the blonde with the long legs. She looked pristine, freshly pressed; it meant she hadn't danced. Darius tilted his head back and downed the vodka. More giggling. The man looked again and the herd had grown. They were goading the redhead, giving her little shoves, little pushes and hissed whispers. Her hazel eyes sparkled and she walked over to him, throwing her curls across her shoulder. Darius wanted to gag.
"Hey there." She said pleasantly, coming to lean against the bar beside him. Darius set down his glass and smiled at her warmly, almost as if they both shared a secret no one else knew.
"I'm sorry, did you want to sit down?" He stood from his seat, acting the gallant gentleman and offered his own seat to her. The redhead's eyes sparkled with triumph. She sat herself down elegantly, fluttering her lashes at him.
"Why, thank you."
Darius smiled at her. "Not at all." Then he turned on his heel and walked away. It wasn't until he was positively they'd lost him in the crowd that he hastened his way to the exit. Humans were a beauty unto themselves. One like him could watch them for hours for wonders, for they were wonderful creatures...until they spoke. Admit it, old son. He thought. You're tired. Yes, it was true. One could only go so long without falling into one of these bouts, of exhaustion, of contempt. Those things he'd loved, all lost their meaning, and he prowled the streets looking for a purpose again. There was none...just stupidity.
He growled, disgustedly with himself as angry tears escaped his black orbs and he rubbed them stubbornly away. There was a lot he was willing to do to regain that sparkle in life, but crying was not one of them. He nearly ran straight into a man coming back inside from a breath of fresh air and Darius leapt aside at the last moment, nearly falling over the stair railing but his balance amazingly withstood. One plus to being what he was. "Sorry," He murmured, shrugging his shoulders and offering (what he hoped looked like) an apologetic smile.
OoC: Ugh, this is awful. x.x Sorry 'bout that. ^^;; I didn't really know what to do.
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Post by Mullet Fish on Jun 14, 2005 17:28:42 GMT -5
(Don't worry about it. I probably would have had to do something similar ) The second man held up his hands apologetically. "It's no problem," he offered, and absently shot the cuffs of his shirt. He began to walk off when something occured to him. "Hey, have you seen the club's owner around at all?" he asked. "Mitch is his name, I've been waiting for him all night." He doubted this man had seen him, the way he was dancing. Still, it felt right to ask. "He's tallish, leather jacket. Typical nightclub owner fashion, you know the type."
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