Who: Krike Savage Wearing: Black cargo pants and green undershirt. Face is dyed black. Timestamp: Tria 28 81382 He never did like the city, always preferring to be in a more rural environment, like the one he was born in. Krike stormed the studio in a hurry, trying to get away from the harsh practice, and the even harsher criticism from his band mates, who claimed his new lyrics to be 'half-assed'. He was furious, he tried his best to write them and stayed up the entire night trying to think of something. Little could quiet his rage. That 'little' being a night at a club or a shovel to the head, whichever came first. "Half-assed? Half-assed!? I'd like to see them stay up all night trying to do what I did while I went out to have fun! No freakin' respect from that sorry lot. They liked all my other songs, but they have the nerve to say that this one, my very best, is terrible!" He ranted to himself. He was no more than five blocks away from the studio before he planted himself on a bench. He burrowed his face in his hands and muttered a vast multitude of curses. "I've lost it then..." He mumbled. "I have no more talent to give.. I'm useless. I'll freakin' lose my job, my apartment, my money, my fans, everything! I'll just be a single bloody paragraph in some music history book." Tears rolled down his face and rolled on to his hands, along with the black dye he used to cover his face. A fin red line ran down the right side of his face, evidence of the identity he didn't want anybody to see at the moment, a crying rock star.
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">Who. http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=1215Omvyjsomusa Uppekseymt</a> Wearing. Well-fitting jeans going slightly tattered, red tank top, black track jacket with her last name and number on the back. Musa kicked the door of her flat open in front of her, hands full of cardboard to go to the recycling around the side of the building. Not bothering to close the door behind her, she made her way to the stairs, going down sideways so she didn't trip on anything. She nodded to the security guard sitting at the front desk and gingerly stepped over the harok sleeping on the inside of the automatic sliding doors that led to the outside world. She passed the benches near the man-made waterway, and saw fleetingly a red and black arden sitting there, seeming to just stare over the railing at the water. She shrugged and kept going around to where the dumpsters of plastics and piles of cardboard were. Throwing her many boxes unceremoniously, she wiped her hands on her jeans to get the dust off and started back to her apartment, but was quickly distracted by the waterway. The sun was starting to set behind the skyline and cast its reflection over the water. She leaned on the railing and simply watched it, enjoying both the view and the breeze. <span style='color:red'>"It's nice isn't it?"</span> she asked aloud, supposedly to the arden sitting in the bench a few feet off, not turning to face him. When there was no answer she turned around and tilted her head, trying to get a better view of the fellow. His face was buried in his hands and he was hunched over. She took a few bare-footed steps over, and squatted in front of him, making herself smaller, and hopefully less imposing, she knew when she was upset it always felt like the world was much bigger than her and out to get her, she didn't want to frighten him. <span style='color:red'>"Hey... you alright?"</span> she asked softly, putting one hand behind her before she lost her balance from her precarious position.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike was lost in his own thought, mumbling every other word to nobody in particular. The dye that covered the red on his face washed away in a thicker, growing line. A voice crept into his ears in a soft tone. He didn't bother to lift his head or even move, but would at least have the manners to reply. "From where you stand..." He whispered, not intending to really be heard. He felt like he was small and helpless, like when he was a child. He didn't want to be noticed, recognized, or really talked to, but he was never given a chance when he chose the way he wanted to live the way he did. The footsteps of the person that was trying to start a conversation with him drew closer. Every step, he felt he shrunk and inch shorter. He body grew tense and his muscles tightened. The same voice spoke to him at a closer range. He wanted to just disappear on the spot. The words were the only thing that kept him from doing so. It sounded to him like the person was concerned about him. Unknowingly, he wiped the tears from his face, along with the black dye, creating a big red smear over his face. "Yeah... I'm fine here." He spoke up. He wiped again as a reflex, taking more dye from his face, putting is true face on display. He didn't know, nor cared.
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">She watched him wipe at his face a few times, sort of wishing she had a tissue to give him, but she didn't. <span style='color:red'>"Can- Can I get anything for you?"</span> she asked, he had said he was fine, but one glance clearly said he wasn't, she wanted to help him, not just out of concern, but also for the fact that a teen had jumped into the waterway and to their death not two weeks before. Best not to leave an upset 'dragon near the scene of a recent suicide. When he finally looked up it took most of her will-power not to go fangirl and start blabbering about how much she loved Hindrance. Instead she took a deep breath and smiled. <span style='color:red'>"You're Krike Savage, right? I love your stuff, absolutely brilliant work, I play Hindrance's albums in my shop all the time,"</span> she said, voice still soft and smiling. Once she got over the initial realization she quieted again, watching him, but trying not to be intrusive.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike looked at the face of the thill that spoke with him. Seemed like the sort he would chase after, but at the moment, he didn't feel up to it. He just felt like wallowing in his own self pity. In response to her question to get him anything, he just shook his head. He turned his gaze to the river for no reason in particular. The sound it made seemed to call out to him and his grief. He heard through rumours about a youth that actually jumped in and drowned. The words of the grey thill breached his ears once more. In surprise, he whipped out a mirror from his jacket pocket and took a look at his face. Angered hat he was stupid enough to be out in public with his true face, he stood up and threw it far into the waterway. "Damn it!" He shouted in his anger. He calmed himself down and fell back onto the bench weakly.
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">Musa made a motion to get up when Krike hurled the mirror over the rails and into the water, but as he slumped back down, she went back into her crouch, still trying to stay lower than him, she'd read on a fansite that Krike had a sort of inferiority complex, or at least, that was the speculation. If she stood up with the light behind her... well that looked slightly superior, right? <span style='color:red'>"Hey, don't sweat it, no one but the residents really come this way, and most of them are old foggies,"</span> she said, a quick smile passing her face, with the exception of the little girl living with her grandfather, Musa was the youngest resident by about a decade. <span style='color:red'>"If you want I have more dye in my apartment, even some semi-permanent ink with my tattooing stuff, you could fix it if you really want to,"</span> she suggested, getting up from her crouch to sit on the bench before the muscles behind her knees cramped up.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike did nothing but chuckle at the thill's offer of dye. Too subtle to really be called a chuckle, and it sounded more like a cough. He usually carried a bottle of dye on him all the time, to escape mobs of fans and the occasional angry mother. He mad a movement to reach behind his back, only to realize that his guitar bag, which he kept his dye in, was left at the studio, which he stormed out of. He sighed deeply and stood up again. Taking three steps, he stopped. "Alright..." He moaned. "Can't look like this in public..." He wouldn't dare go back to the studio just to get his bag. In his eyes, it would seem extremely weak and pathetic if his band mates were still there. He often hated the comments he received from there, always being that the song needs work or touching up, ending up totally messing with his songs. It was the very first time they have ever openly put down his skill, and it bothered him. He absolutely hated them, however, for the sake of making a living and getting the basic needs, he was forced to tolerate them.
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">She got up once Krike stood and agreed. Musa tapped his shoulder once to get him to turn around then set off for the building, weaving in and out of the cars parked in front of the main doors. She stumbled and nearly tripped over the harok snoozing by the door, giving a mock salute to the security guard at the desk she headed for the stairs, turning back once just to make sure Krike was still following. Entering her still-open apartment, she went to the kitchen counter, where a menagerie of inks and needles were lying about, as well as several designs littered on various papers. <span style='color:red'>"My name's Musa, sorry for not introducing myself sooner,"</span> she said, sifting through her various grades of dye, trying to find one that wasn't permanent. <span style='color:red'>"How strong do you want the dye, I've got everything from the sort that comes off in water, to the kind that takes a couple days to wash out, to the sort that never comes out,"</span> she said, going around to the foyer, and rifling through a large cardboard box, also filled to the brim with inks.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike followed the thill from about five paces away, the usual thing he did when he followed someone to not draw suspicion for tabloids. The building he was being led to was just a short walk away. He nearly did step on the harok, but quickly taking notice of it, he backed up and took a step over it. He pointed over to the thill he was following when he came to the security guard, who just nodded. He proceeded to follow her up the stairs. When she had opened the door to her apartment, he took notice of all the inks and dyes sitting on the counter. His eye catching many styles of designs lying about. From his standpoint, he assumed that 'Musa', as she introduced herself, was a tattoo artist, and a damn good one. "You know very well who I am." He said as if to introduce himself. "The one and freakin' only Krike Savage..." He waved his arms in the air in sarcasm. He relaxed himself so he wouldn't make any outbursts in front of a fan. When she asked of the type of dye, he simply pointed at a wash-off kind and said, "That one there, obsidian black."
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify"><span style='color:red'>"Hah,"</span> Musa gave a small laugh as Krike formally introduced himself. She picked up two bottles of ink and held them in front of him. <span style='color:red'>"Both of these wash off, one just needs water, the other needs baby oil, which one would you prefer?"</span> she asked, he probably wanted the one that came off with water, but he had just said washable, of which she had two varieties.</div></td></tr></table></div> oh god i'm sorry it's so short, the next one will be much longer, i promise >_>
OOC: As long as it makes sense, I don't mind. "The one that washes off with water, I'm no child." He tried to say as a joke regarding the baby oil, but it came out gruff and serious. "I have a gig tomorrow, so I need to have it easily washable." Thank goodness that this one isn't one of those super fans... Krike thought to himself. If such a fan were to be the one to meet him, he would expect his face to be on the cover of a magazine featuring a totally false story within the hour. It has happened before with one story saying that he was on some crazed bar-jumping party and fell asleep in the park, when he only felt sick from a bad cupcake given to him by a fan. The story nearly messed when his second album, 'Salt on Papercuts', made its debut. It barely sold until he told his story. That same tabloid was still trying to hunt him down for more lies, despite his threats of lawsuits. OOC: Oww... My brain, lack of imagination...
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">Musa shook her head. <span style='color:red'>"I'm just sayin', if you want rain proof, ready for anything, I'd go with the oil base,"</span> she said, shrugging and handing him the water based dye. She went around the counter and peeked in the fridge, grabbing herself a water and a piece of fruit, gently setting them on the counter space beside her. <span style='color:red'>"Can I get you anything? Something to drink or what not? Only have juices and water though I'm afraid, bit of a nut about what I put through my system these days,"</span> she said, mumbling the last as she pulled a memo off the freezer "buy more ice cream" surely she could remember something that simple?</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike nonchalantly took the dye from her hands. "I know, but nobody really stops to say 'hi' when it's a downpour." He meant it as a sort of joke, but it didn't so much sound as one. He dripped a little onto a red spot on his tail to check the contrast of the dye and his fur. To his eyes, the dye was darker, but close enough to the fur not to be noticed for what it was. "I'll take anything, I'm not picky..." He said. He probably should have the drink before he puts on the dye, lest mess with the colour. OOC: Big Art Block hits me here, with a baseball bat.
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">She pulled out an extra water and set it over by where Krike was standing and examining the colour. She peered over his shoulder quickly then stepped back and frowned. <span style='color:red'>"I've got a warmer black if you like, same kind of dye, but it might match better,"</span> she was always surprised by the amount of 'dragons that didn't know black came in several shades, more over, the ones that always assumed it was just the darkest grey, the colder variety. She rifled through the inks on the counter top, muttering as she did, looking for a certain serial number. A small 'aha' was heard when she found it. <span style='color:red'>"This one might match better, still black, but a little warmer than the one you picked,"</span> she said, holding it out to him.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike sighed softly and grabbed th other dye. He proceeded in doing the exact same thing on a different spot on his tail. It was a perfect match to him. It was a stroke of luck to get the colour on the second try, as whenever he tried to go get the colour, it would normally take him into the double-digits in count of stores to find it. He grinned for only a fraction of a second. A question popped into his head; why is Musa doing this for him? The average fan for anyone would be going crazy and talking about the celebrity, or so that's what Krike believed. "Not going to talked about how great I am, or something?" He said sarcastically. "Not going to spurt out useless trivia or ask pointless questions? Ask me for my bloody autograph?" He continued his sarcastic rhetorical questions. At this point, he was going to continue, but started to mentally breakdown. "Not going to say that I'm a failure destined to dirt?" He muttered and fell back on a couch conveniently behind him. He stared at the ceiling blankly, breathing deeply and in the midst of mental breakdown. "Tell me how half-frickin'-assed my lyrics are...?"
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">Musa had hopped up on the counter as Krike tried the new dye. She took a swig of water and tried not to say something foolish while he began his break down. When it was over, she shook her head. <span style='color:red'>"Nope, see, inside I'm doing that 'oh my god it's Krike Savage' thing', but I also happen to have you in my apartment, how many fans get that? Besides, if I was freaking out you'd easily forget me, just because I'd fall into the same category as all the other screaming fans,"</span> She said, Musa had been to her fair share of concerts, some of them featuring Hinderance, so she knew what she was talking about when she said 'screaming fans'. Before speaking again, she took another sip of water, trying to pick her words carefully. She took a moment to replay what he'd said in her head. She put her water down and leaned her head back on a cabinet and looked up at the ceiling, hands behind her to support her new position. <span style='color:red'>"Dude, you've got critics and a band for that shit, sure there are some songs I'm not particularly fond of, but I like most of them, wouldn't own any of your albums if I didn't,"</span> she said, turning to face him, smiling now.</div></td></tr></table></div> <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Sorry it took me so long, I have a question, what sort of sound does Hinderance have? I sort of have been imagining a Sugarcult x NIN sound, but i'm pretty sure that's wrong ^^"</td></tr></table>
OOC: Never thought into the sound to much, might as well use the band that's playing on my iTunes right now... Megadeth and... Korn. Pretty much Hard Rock/Metal. Also: I've never heard of Sugarcult, I'll check them out now... Okay back, I'm going to upload a few song later. Krike didn't raise his head, but stopped his mumbling. He raised his right hand and pointed in her general direction and made a shooting gesture and spoke, "Touche." He sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Waaaay too many groupies, even our roadie has a few." He chucked/sobbed and shhok his head. "I've got a lot of crap on my mind these days." He muttered to himself. He looked over at Musa and raised his red eyebrow. "Hey, I'll tell you a secret is you promise not to spread it." He grinned, his sorrow gone for the moment. "Hindrance ain't gonna last too long, just so you know. Just a plan of mine to kinda shock our hardcore fans." He raised his head and let out a deep laugh. "Schemin' on going solo by myself then picking up a few cool guys to replace the uptight dipshits that are on my back now. That awesome or what?"
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify"><span style='color:red'>"Your roadie has groupies?"</span> she asked, laughing. Musa went around the counter that separated the kitchen area from the rest of the main room and sat on the glass coffee table across from the couch, in front of Krike when he started muttering to himself again. She leaned when he said he'd tell her a secret, a sort of childish habit she'd never quite kicked. She considered the fact that Hindrance wasn't going to last very long, and started to make a remark, but at Krike's laugh she looked up, an eyebrow raised, now she was confused. <span style='color:red'>"Actually going solo seems like it'd be pretty cool, are you going to change the sound much? I mean, I listen to everything, but what about the other 'hardcore' fans, as you put it?"</span> she asked, simultaneously grinning and giving a slight nod to agree that it was a pretty awesome idea.</div></td></tr></table></div>
Krike grinned. "It's true that fans build my reputation for me, but they'll get by." He said solemnly. "The second they learn why I left, they just come back, chanting my name like I'm some hero!" He raised his arms to the sky to put imagery into his sarcasm. "One of my first songs I ever wrote for the band was made to make my ol' teach proud, you never heard the original lyrics, no one has. It's going to be the first song on my solo album." He rambled. "I bet everything I got that it'll make more sales in a week than than the band's first album did in a year." He settle down from his bragging and relaxed on the couch. His grin, faint, barely a smile. "I just want people to hear what I really think. It's probably going to end up being some sort of rock and blues."
<div align="center"><table><tr><td width=450><div align="right"><span style='font-family:Courier'><span style='color:red'>d i s f i g u r a t i o n</span></span></div></td></tr><tr><td width=450><div align="justify">Musa nodded, Krike's fanbase might momentarily shrink, but one good press release would fix his career right up. She leaned back on her hands again, shaking her hair out of her face before listening to him again. Musa knew which song he was talking about when he said 'one of my first songs' and nodded again, she'd liked that one quite a bit, and was surprised that it didn't have the original lyrics. <span style='color:red'>"So, am I supposed to counter your bet?</span> she asked, smirking, she never made bets anymore, simply on the fact she always lost. At the mention of rock and blues she gave a small shrug, she'd never been one for the blues really, but she was willing to give anything a shot at least once.</div></td></tr></table></div>
