ooc. private for siaka. dyo 10th, 81381. lyrics credit to NIN's "the perfect drug". ic. "Fuck, no," 'Quiem muttered darkly, sitting in a booth that had a constantly swinging, half working light that seemed to flicker off an on. The music that was in the background pulsed out of the speakers at such a rate that the white male could feel it piercing through his skull as if he had some sort of devil horn trying to emerge. There was enough chatter within the club between different 'scene' thills that it distorted the music just a little bit. He didn't like it. The singer sucked, and so did the band. They couldn't play for half an ass. He stirred his drink with a straw, neon-coloured eyes scanning the dimly-light club for a glimpse of some pretty boy or girl. Of course, Requiem figured that he probably didn't need to be impatient, although he was a little bored, and for the most part had been left alone by any of the faces within the room. That was good. The garb that he was wearing blended in pretty well and he looked just about like he belonged there despite his social status. A few words were distingushable, but otherwise to him it sounded like the singer had the microphone crammed in this throat. He sighed, eyes turning toward the crowd that was halfway tempted to start moshing at anytime, he reckoned. Oh, yes. "i got my head but my head is unraveling can't keep control can't keep track of where it's traveling i got my heart but my heart's no good you're the only one that's understood - i come along but i don't know where you're taking me i shouldn't go but you're wrenching, dragging, shaking me turn off the sun pull the stars from the sky the more i give to you the more i die - - and i want you." He laughed. "you are the perfect drug the perfect drug the perfect drug the perfect drug you make me hard when i'm all soft inside i see the truth when i'm all stupid-eyed the arrow goes straight through my heart without you everything just falls apart…"' Now his music was starting – burning and rushing from his throat, screaming, the gorgeous chords echoing in his ears. He mouthed the words quietly, grinning, as the crowd began to mosh. "…my blood just wants to say hello to you my fear is warm to get inside of you my soul is so afraid to realize how every little bit is left of me take me with you without you everything just falls apart it's not as much fun to pick up the pieces."
<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Out of Character Sorry for not replying sooner, and the fact it's so short, cramming for state testing is leaving my brain in the gutters -_-"</span> <table><tr><td width=400 px></td></tr><tr><td width=400 px><div align=justify><span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Ara flashed his ID at the bouncer standing in front of the door, the muscled arden looked skeptical, but nodded and let him in. Ara was assailed with the music of a less than savory band. They'd been playing the last few weeks, and he had no idea why the manager kept hiring them, even when it was quite clear that they played crap music. He pushed his way through several other 'dragons, trying to get away from the wind outside. Eventually making his way to the back, most notably the darkest and calmest area of the club, he sat on a stool and leaned against the bar. Ey, Glow boy, what can I get ya t'night? A semi-toothless 'dragon asked. Ara's eyes narrowed to slits and he got up. <span style='color:3366FF'>Glow boy? That's pathetic...</span> He thought to himself as he walked away, skirting the dance floor as the throng of dancers, more like posers, began to mosh. He leaned against a the side of a booth, not noticing the ash hued arden that sat there, he was more intent on watching the mob on the dance floor. <span style='color:3366FF'>I wish the band would play real music or shut the hell up.</span> He said to himself.</span></td></tr></table>
