Post by Reikas Esterion on Nov 3, 2011 20:14:46 GMT -5
Reikas hadn't been this excited in a very long time. He stood outside the door to the shop with a shameless sort of smirk on his face. Catering to the goth-punk scene out front, the place had a hidden but wide selection of fetishist toys just beyond a few rows of obscuring door-beads in the back. He could feel the throbbing baseline from the street. It pulsed through his chest, overriding and overruling his own heartbeat, demanding his attention as insistently as any master and beckoning him inside.
The sharp perfumes hit him before the rest of the music did, though. When he opened that door, the heat of the place rushed out and swarmed over him with spices and aromas specially designed to play with the senses, to muddle the mind, to mingle with and mask the true odors of sweat and sin. A long time ago, the place had suffocated him and done strange things to his head. Now he drew a deep breath and became a part of it, allowing it to work its unholy magics in his lungs. He wasn't even sure some of the substances in the air were legal. The spirit of this place wasn't something that could be fought or even tolerated. This place had to be embraced with every fiber of one's being, allowed to swim freely through the soul, for it drowned any who dared oppose it. Run by Vampires and staffed by demons, it was the closest one could get to the dark underbelly of society without actually risking one's life or freedom.
He stepped inside and the door sealed him in with a quiet click. He hadn't been here in a long time; his head was already swimming with the deafening nightclub music and thick chemicals. He could feel the life of the entire building around him as he pushed his darkened way through the leather and metal toward the back room. He could feel the eyes of the employees on him, but he didn't care. He'd learned not to care. He was maybe one of three people there just then; it was the middle of the day and the real patrons didn't come out until night. He obviously wasn't one of them anyway, he looked much too white collar to be a regular here.
The sharp perfumes hit him before the rest of the music did, though. When he opened that door, the heat of the place rushed out and swarmed over him with spices and aromas specially designed to play with the senses, to muddle the mind, to mingle with and mask the true odors of sweat and sin. A long time ago, the place had suffocated him and done strange things to his head. Now he drew a deep breath and became a part of it, allowing it to work its unholy magics in his lungs. He wasn't even sure some of the substances in the air were legal. The spirit of this place wasn't something that could be fought or even tolerated. This place had to be embraced with every fiber of one's being, allowed to swim freely through the soul, for it drowned any who dared oppose it. Run by Vampires and staffed by demons, it was the closest one could get to the dark underbelly of society without actually risking one's life or freedom.
He stepped inside and the door sealed him in with a quiet click. He hadn't been here in a long time; his head was already swimming with the deafening nightclub music and thick chemicals. He could feel the life of the entire building around him as he pushed his darkened way through the leather and metal toward the back room. He could feel the eyes of the employees on him, but he didn't care. He'd learned not to care. He was maybe one of three people there just then; it was the middle of the day and the real patrons didn't come out until night. He obviously wasn't one of them anyway, he looked much too white collar to be a regular here.
