<center>http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=1473</a> http://shadowlack.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=3981The Gravedigger</a> 37<sup>th</sup> of Tria 81381 Severance didn’t get out much. It wasn’t that he was an anti-social ‘dragon, but he ran on a strict, self-enforced work schedule that kept him busy most of the day. The only time he had to himself was on the weekends, which he took off, or late in the evening, such as now. The fiery arden toyed with the red straw in his drink, occasionally pausing to take a sip of the shockingly blue cocktail. The liquid was a wake-up call on his tongue, sharply sweet and yet bitterly sour it slunk it’s way down his throat and left him sighing appreciatively. Slipping the straw from between his teeth, the artist turned his back to the bar, leaning against it. Electric-blue eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the wandering groups and pairs as they shifted through the establishment, on the off chance that he’d recognize a face. He didn’t, but that wasn’t a big surprise. Severance didn’t come to the Gravedigger enough to know any of the regulars. His style of dress might have marked him as a newcomer to the club; the only black article of clothing he wore were his jeans and assorted piercings, the rest of his attire made up of a snug, bright yellow tee and an assortment of candy colored bangles set around his neck, wrists, and tail. Not exactly ‘dark,’ he stuck out against the backdrop of gothic-clad ‘dragons that make up the majority of the patrons. Oh well, it was better than sitting around his apartment watching cartoon reruns. Humming another sigh, the ‘dragon took another drink from his glass, draining the last of the mixture. Licking the tart flavor from his lips, he pushed the straw to the side with one finger and tilted the glass back, letting an ice cube slide into his mouth and click against his teeth before setting his glass aside.
<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>outofcharacter// -- Is this a private thread, or are you letting anyone join?</span>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>*points up* "aw" = "all welcome" </td></tr></table>
<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Keratel stumbled backward, shoved aside by some large dragon on his way to the dance floor, and sighed. Her hair, shockingly pink styled into waist length curls, was a speck of bright among the darkness of the club, but her attire - nothing, showing a dark, sleek pelt - fit right in. She backed onto a barstool, swearing at whoever had pushed her, and rolled around, preparing for another long night that always started with drinking, and always waking up alone; though the moments between those two points were hardly ever the same. Looking to her right, Atel's gaze fell unsteadily upon another 'dragon, bright shirt contrasting largely against the black of the decor. Laughing despite herself, she slid over to him, drinking temporarily forgotten. '<span style='color:hotpink'>Well,</span>' she said, looking him over (he was a little taller if she minused the ears), '<span style='color:hotpink'>Don't you look like a regular.</span>' She gave another small laugh, lower than would have been expected, and turned to the bar again, looking over her options, though she knew already what she would ask for.</span>
Gabriel stared at the people that jumped and danced in time with the lively, choppy cadences of the music, their pounding feet muffled by the hard floor. He ran a hand across his face and slowly made his way onto his feet, wobbling and quavering and shaking like an autumn leaf. The artist was dressed in a fishnet top and gray cigarette jeans, accompanied by multicolored bracelets and necklaces that seemed to glow of their own accord. One minute he was standing in his own corner of the universe, and the next he was before the bar, ordering the largest drink he felt he could carry. What happened in between was unclear — things blurred and swirled again, and Gabe found himself crumbled in a booth, the drink almost attached to his lips, his bare toes digging against the floor. A supreme dizziness ruled his consciousness, and ‘Riel now knew what Salem must have felt like before he had become all self-righteous. He had tried to self-destruct. Gabe sipped his drink and stared into the infinity of the crowd. It would be all too easy to get lost. Nobody would notice, nobody would miss him. Who pined for junk metal? His eye was caught, though, by a familiar smear of crimson on his peripheral horizon. Rising to his feet, the arden slithered towards Severence, also known to Gabe by his street name - he preffered using the latter, however. "Hey, Tabaj-sever," Opium said softly, tapping the other male on the shoulder three times and extending a hand in the customary gang handshake. He looked over to the pink-haired thill who'd just spoken to him, and nodded curtly to acknowledge her presence.
Severance had seen the thill approaching out of the corner of his eye, her shockingly pink hair standing out against the black just as much as he did. Almost bubblegum in color, it brought a sardonic edge to his perpetual smile. Pink and goth never really meshed together in his mind, always seeming to clash in some profound way. Bright pink not nearly so much as dull rose, what with it’s shock factor, but the point still remained. He was pulled from his musing when he realized she was addressing him. “<span style='color:red'>This isn’t exactly one of my usual haunts.</span>" He chuckled, nodding slightly. He opened his mouth to say more, perhaps comment on her hair, but found himself approached by yet another ‘dragon, although this one, surprisingly, was familiar to him. Cocking a pierced brow, he turned in his seat to face the arden. “<span style='color:red'>Gabriel.</span>" He said, just a little more amicably then when he’d addressed the thill, and moved to return the gesture. “<span style='color:red'>I didn’t see you.</span>" It was on honest statement, speaking with a mixture of mild surprise and just a hint of pleasure that came with running into old friends and acquaintances, particularly when one was not expecting to. Sev’ supposed he shouldn’t have been that surprised he hadn’t spotted the taller arden; while his striped hair and white pelt normally caught his eye in a crowd, the gloomy lighting and thronging mass of bodies in the club tended to obscure anyone who wasn’t standing within five feet. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>I apologize for the delay, starting school = killed me x_X</td></tr></table>
acht. i'm going to skip over verlorte, for now. Day after day, Gabriel had swept over Watani, searching - perhaps - for a piece of himself. Something that he'd lost. When he had fallen from grace, fallen from home and from Andrew (oh, his old lover, now gone and dead from cancer), he'd become something of an amputee. The lack was keenly felt, but there was no retrieving what had already been severed. Nevertheless, the yellow and black-haired boy found himself compelled again and again to make the pilgrimage to this sacred, scarred place of his own rebirth – Watani, where he was starting over. He was here now, strangled by the monotony and routine that had chained him as of late. This city was his now. They were where he belonged. He'd lost Travis, his sister Anna, his friends. He didn't need any reminders that he'd fucked up. Badly. To go back and try to start over somewhere else would only add insult to injury. And injury was bad enough, thank you. "You look pretty," he murmured to Sev, his eyes dragging themselves from the floor to his ass and then sharply to his face. Amazing hair. Now, that was actually not a surprising thought for Gabe, and it comforted him somewhat. There was a noticable flicker in his pale stoic face; so pale that his blue eyes stood out like a skyscraper in the midst of the ocean.
