Shadows With Eyes

[moonshaft]

What had brought the creation of the small bar placed so delicately on the streets of the pollution invested town? No one knew, at least, those who didn't take the time to question its existence, nonetheless the reasoning for it to be here. A tall stranger stood in front of the door, his dirt stained hand wavering undecided over the bronze colored handle. He had heard so many things, tales about this place, things that would make normal people laugh in disbelief. His red eyes stared down at the handle, his mind racing with thoughts and reasons as to why he should even consider stepping into such a place and commute with the creatures that lurked beyond the door. He let out a soft sigh and was about to open the portal into the unknown when he sensed another behind him, his nose picking up a rather disgusting scent that made him about ready to vomit.

He whirled around swiftly, pushing his body to the side wall as he went, making sure his sight was aimed directly at the new visitor. His left eyes squinted in confusion as he watched a rather tall, skinny man walk towards the door, its own coal black eyes eyeing him with distrust.
"Beautiful night out, isn't it?" The man smiled, revealing two abnormally long and sharp canines that proudly dominated his mouth. Something seemed to growl on the inside of the white haired man's chest, but he pushed the feeling aside, merely eyeing the other with a straight face and glaring eyes. His comment came out as more of a sneer than anything, seemingly mocking the dirty and informal state of the red eyed stranger near the wall. Silence passed between the two until the more cleanly looking man shook his head with disgust and opened the door, a thin smirk crawling across his face as the door slammed itself shut.

Determined not to be the victim, the now irritated being grasped the cold handle to the door, turning it with such force he could hear the gears crack and moan under the sudden force. The door was open now, the sound of different creatures talking crept soundly through his ears, while the heavy aroma of alcohol burning his nose. Clenching his teeth, he pushed his way through the large crowds containing creatures that would make even the grown man cringe in horror, while he himself was so used to seeing such things he didn't find the need to sit there and stare. Determined to sit in the back, away form the crowds of vampires and other creatures of the night, he took a seat in a moth-eaten booth, the wood table that sat so innocently in front of him giving off the stench of rot.

And then he remembered why he even thought stepping into this...intersting bar was even beneficial to him. Someone had information that he needed to know. He had pain the price to know such knowledge, and now his reward was to meet him here. And what a clever place to share one's thoughts and feelings than in a place where eavesdropping was near impossible.

[kyros]

The door seemed to open easily enough; someone, he figured, had broken the handle on the way in. How careless, to destroy such an object a man must have slaved over for hours on end until perfection (or something close to it) was molded securely into it, and this thought only passed him briefly before he slipped through the door's entrance, looking around negligently as he passed and joined the mass of bodies in the cramped little bar.

"And here we come," he murmured under his breath, looking almost sympathetically at all of the people. "To drown away our troubles. What a pity these people must be!" And with this all sympathy was gone, substituted with a high feeling of humor. The way in which he walked to the counter surely showed that he was nothing close to drunk; his body swayed in rhythm, winding around the slamming of creatures gracefully. His hips swayed naturally, almost musically, the feline in him obvious beyond any extent.

After his glass of wine was poured, red wine, he settled it down onto the counter and leaned back, observing the crowd with the same peering, deep yellow gaze. His bare feet, quick to avoid any heavy boots or shoes crashing their way, tapped in pattern to the beat of conversation. He was about to make his way across the room when someone stumbled into him, catching their balance and trying to stand. At the immediate touch, he jerked away, hissing, spitting, and beginning a quiet yowl under his breath out of habit. He quickly halted this and snatched up his glass, lip still curled back as he made his way to the sheltered booths.

[moonshaft]

The masses of bodies that surrounded the many tables and booths made the white haired man's nerves rise to the level of insanity, his head placed atop folded hands, watching one specific group chatter the night away, large glasses of champagne placed delicately in their hands. He rolled his eyes in disgust at the drinks, his red gaze shifting towards the overweight bartender, thick black tattoos snaking across his arms and neck. The bartender uttered something towards a rather distraught looking man, handing a glass full of golden liquid to him as they talked. The troubled man thanked the 'tender gratefully, gulping the drink down rather quickly, small streams of the drink traveling down his chin and neck.

Disgusting. Absolutely putrid. One thing that he couldn't understand most about the emotional problems of others, why they tried to make themselves believe that nothing is plaguing them, when in reality, it will just give them a hard slap in the face the next morning, adding to the major hangover from the amount of drinks that had the previous night. Staying in his hunched over position, it was then when he noticed a new face among the sea of others he had already memorized, his cat-like movements attracting the attention of a small group of teenage girls that hung loosely near the bathroom entrance, half burned cigarettes placed in their mouths.

He made no effort to greet the man as he started to make his way towards the booths, but only watched him. He didn't know how to react to a man that walked and protested like a cat, so he only kept his distance, hoping to everything that he would pick a booth far from him to sit in.

[kyros]

"The way to win an atomic war is to make certain it never starts, says the Chamber of Commerce," the bitter man snarled under his breath, brushing his arm off, as if the germs of another person would poison his limb to the point of stealing it right off. "So let us not lose this battle, by keeping our claws sheathed," he continued to speak to himself under his breath.

He whipped around, settling his back against the wall next to Akaroth's booth. His eyes spotted the girls' rather focused attention, and shot them a charming grin, raising an eyebrow and wiggling it lightly while he crossed his arms and snickered under his breath. "Oh, how easily the public pleases," he said aloud, taking another sip and sighing in satisfaction. His eyes stole a glimpse to the right, catching the man's watching stare. "Anything I can help you with, my good Sir?"

[moonshaft]

Akaroth twitched an eye at the newcomer, trying to ignore how the last sentace came out as more of a sneer than anything. He returned his gaze back towards the large groups of people, his chin still neslted inbetween his hands. His eyes caught hold of the giggling band of girls, their face tinted a slight pink as they gazed at the cat-like man in admiration and want. Akaroth closed his eyes in disgust.

"Why don't you join your little...fanclub over there? I'm sure they'd love your company." He growled in response towards the man, a finger reaching up from its carefully choosen position to scratch the thin and jagged diagonal scar that ran across his nose, giving his face even more of a strange look than he already received from some of the occupance of the bar.

[kyros]

"I'm afraid I'm available for the eyes only," he sighed, sagging his shoulders in a small yet knowing shrug. "You know. If I offered myself to everyone whenever a situation like this happened, there'd be nothing left of me. And then what would be the purpose? We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give." He waved a light hand towards the 'fanclub', fingers flicking ever so slightly towards their way as he shifted his attention to the white-haired moron (or at least in his humble opinion).

"Ugly scar you have there," he stated bluntly, raising a brow in examination. "Did you get it by staring at somebody the wrong way?" After all, that's what this man seemed best at. Glaring and sitting there like a lump. Oh yes, he was quite good at that. Why hate the world when you can paint inside the lines your own style and hue, and then claim it for yourself? Ah, well at least that's what he thought about life. He doubted this dirty bum thought the same.

[moonshaft]

Akaroth's eyes hardened, his silent stare now turning into an angered glare, his temper beginning to rise in his chest.
"No I didn't," the new strangers comment was beginning to edge of is nerves, "sorry to disappoint you." He leaned back in the booth, shifting his weight to the end of h is backbone, part of his spine popping in protest as he slumped downward. The group of girls were now looking stupidly at each other, wondering why that handsome man wouldn't strut his way over there and offer them his services. Akaroth had the overwhelming urge to beckon and point to the cat-like man near him, encouraging the girls to advance in their attempts to subdue him.

Finally plucking up the courage, a rather short girl, her brunette hair waving delicately on her shoulders as she walked, made her way toward the man, her hands clenching and unclenching in excitement. Akaroth could see a wall of haze that covered her brilliant emerald eyes, she had obviously had too much to drink. Her lips puckered in anticipation as she neared him, her tongue licking the side of her mouth. Akaroth watched as the girl sat beside the man, pushing her overly large chest into his face. Anybody could see the want in her eyes, the need for his company.
"Hey," she uttered softly into his ear, "can I get your autograph?" Akaroth stared for a moment, trying to contain a large outburst of laughter as the girl grabbed the nearest napkin and placed it delicately in his arm, awaiting his response.

[kyros]

The man took the napkin absent-mindedly, wiping his wet lips with it as he looked up in ponder. "Oh, you don't dissapoint me; it's still ugly." He just noticed the girl and she had made her way towards him, and he raised a thin brow. Was this yet another adored fan? Sitting back, he looked the girl over, backing away sharply as her chest flew towards him. Still, he shot his charming smirk. "You got a pen?"

Surprisingly, another girl chose to bring up the courage. She was like a giant, lumbering towards the the two, arms swinging uselessly under her as her cream-colored hair swayed back and forth in front of her blue eyes. "HEY." she roared, pushing into the seat next to Akaroth. "LEAVE SOME FOR ME."

[moonshaft]

Akaroth cringed in disgust at the pair of women that sat so lovingly next to their chosen men. His left eye twitching as the girl with the cream colored hair stared at him with adoration.
"Get away from me..." He growled in agitation, scuttling over to the other side of the booth, making sure to put plenty of space in between him and the girl who was now crossing her arms grumpily.
"I never get any fun," her gaze shifted toward the green eyed girl, who was now caressing the man's leg, "and you get too much." With that, she got up off her chosen seat, strutting her way back toward the other girls, her arms swinging like a caveman as she went. The brunette haired girl snickered as the other left, feeling accomplished that she had, once again, dominated the field.

[kyros]

"A warning is a warning," hissed the irritated man. "And nothing more!" He shoved her hand away with force. "You can have my name with the distance of a pen, but you /cannot/ have anything of what you obviously want." He turned back to Akaroth with a dry smirk.

"You can hold your little chuckles," he sneered. "Seems you have an audience as well. Though I couldn't /imagine/ why..." he sat back with a grin, foot kicking out to punt the girl off the seat so his legs could have more room atop the chair. "What's a fellow like you doing in a place like /this/?

[moonshaft]

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Akaroth stated bluntly, lifting his feet up so they rested firmly on the table in front of him, a small hole on the side of his shoe revealing the white sock underneath. He couldn't understand why a prissy and self-absorbed man would even consider walking into a bar. Surely, he had better things to do...like get a nose job, or plaster a giant poster of his face on a billboard for all to see. Akaroth shoved his hands into his pockets, the tips of his fingers skimming the cold handle of the small pocketknife he kept just in case he needed it.

"What's a man like you doing in a place like this?" He paused slightly, his gaze catching the look of the vampire that met him previously at the now ruined door.

[kyros]

"Yes, I would like to know. That's why I'm asking you. Why would I waste the air I breath in and out otherwise, hm?" The smirk still remained as he leaned his elbows on the table's surface, his palms supporting a rested head. "I can see you know nothing of etiquette, much less common sense." he looked to Akaroth's shoes, the hole, and scowled lightly. What a moron to shine such things. Being sloppy was nothing to be proud of. Being stupid, also, was nothing to sneer over. "I'm here because I want to be. I wanted a drink. I wanted the public to see me." he answered simply.

His index finger traced the pattern on the table quietly, the tip of his nail growing longer and sharper throughout the whole time, until it was a curved claw, and he plucked it neatly into the whole, digging the needle-like tip into the sock, smiling as it went through into the skin. He ripped it out innocently and gazed down to it, blinking and looking back up with wide eyes. "Oops. Didn't mean to do /that/."

[moonshaft]

Akaroth could feel the sharp claw penetrate through the frail barrier he had that weakly protected his muscles and blood, the foreign object sending a surge of pain through his foot as it tore through a small vein. Releasing an angry snarl, he brought his foot up towards the smirking man, smashing his face with the mud-covered bottom of his shoe, bits of the dried dirt flying onto the man’s shirt, some of it even daring to go under and tumble down his chest. He would make sure that he would regret even touching him with at stupid nail of his. Unsatisfied with the bits of mud now latching delicately onto the man’s hair, Akaroth lifted up his other foot, pushing it onto his enemies shirt and sliding down carelessly, leaving a long, wet trailed of mud and dirt that ended at the end of his shirt. He knew to wouldn’t be the best idea in the world so start a fight, less he get kicked out before he could do anything else. Pleased with his actions, Akaroth brought his injured foot towards his chest, so that he could better examine the wound.

A small trickle of blood coursed down Akaroth’s ankle, its winding course making him feel strange as he took a finger and wiped the blood off his foot and onto his black shoes, the crimson stain barely visible amongst the mass of black.
“Good to see we’re getting along so well.” Akaroth growled irritably, crossing his arms and keeping his legs tucked under the table.

[kyros]

Because the man did not wear a shirt, only a vest, most of the mud stained his bare chest. He looked down slowly, staring at the dirt, which began to trail down his skin. The lack of cleanliness caused a shudder to course down his spine. He seemed almost in shock that this vile man would do such a thing.
Lifting a hand, Kyros touched his cheek, feeling the mud atop it, the light sting where it had been shoved by the dirty shoe. This man…this man dared to do this to him? How bold, he thought at first, how utterly bold and stupid! Oh, but that must mean the man wasn’t too happy about his slipping of the claw…he, himself, must have looked ridiculous with all of this filth wearing him like a cloak. He opened his mouth to say something, shut it in thought, and then looked back down to his chest. He really was surprised. Never before had he ever been this dirty, not even as a child, and children were /expected/ to get mud on them at a younger age. But him? No, he never did. For specific reasons, really.
Looking back up, he looked Akaroth in the eye for a moment, his face stoic, and then fell back, bursting out into fits of laughter. He couldn’t…couldn’t /believe/ how thick, how completely dense this dolt was! One little poke of the nail and this idiot was out to slam his legs all around and act like a fool! One little taunt and this dim-witted buffoon swung physical violence anywhere and everywhere, wherever it could reach! Did he really have no speaking skills? Maybe that’s why all he did was stare! “Oh yes, /yes/!” He fit between chuckles. “Perfectly indeed!”

[moonshaft]

Akaroth flicked his gaze towards the laughing man, his temper beginning to rise slowly in his chest, a small burning feeling starting in his throat. Keeping his arms crossed, he leaned backwards, trying to block out not only his laughing but his rather crude remark in between the massed fit of giggles and chuckles. He didn’t know when to stop, did he? That over obsessive freak that could look at a mirror without gazing at it for a few moments and wishing that everybody in the world could see his unique beauty, then toss the thing aside and thing aside and find something else to occupy his boredom. Akaroth felt a least a little self satisfied that he was able to spread the last of the mud from his shoes onto that little girly-man’s clothes, it saved him the time of having to rid himself of it on the poor excuse of a rug near the front door.
Avoiding the other’s gaze, he shifted his weight back in his backbone and watched as vampire who eyed him earlier was filling himself full of a thick and creamy brown substance, his cheeks beginning to flush and his coal eyes glossed over with bliss and happiness. Between the laughing man, and the other that seemed to want to /keep/ him in the bar, Akaroth had no choice but to stay where he was, trapped between two men that seemed to make it a object in their lives to torture his presence there. Twitching an eye irritably, Akaroth let out a low sigh and closed one eye in thought, trying to figure out how to get out of his current predicaments and slip out of the bar. It was a mistake to even consider stepping /into/ this place, and obviously the man that promised to meet him here obviously had better plans to fulfill.
“Why don’t you go model for something?” Akaroth questioned in agitation, trying to keep his rising temper to a low minimum. He didn’t know what trait that man held that seemed to push him off the edge so quickly, but whatever it was, he hated it. Surely, it couldn’t possibly get any worse.