He was behind the bar tonight; he felt like he lived on his feet, but there were times he said to hell with it and took a seat in a corner booth for a smoke and a drink. It’s not like the carcinogens were going to actually ruin his lungs, or that the alcohol was actually going to tear his liver to shreds. Were that true, he would have died nigh a few millennia ago—you know, when human beings weren’t space traveling and still hadn’t figured out what in the faewilde germs were. Mostly before he had known there were other things in the universe to fuck with or... fuck in general. Things with three eyes, tentacles, and multiple genders. But then, that was also before his blasted spouse decided it’d be a fine trick—a good game in a boring era—to curse him with the body he now had.
Stupid man.
He refrained from sighing as he cleaned a glass and set it down on a shelf below. Long golden strands, half silver, white, and yellowed amber fell over his shoulder—partially loose and partially braided. Rings and dangly gems hung from his pointed ears, clicking together with the motion. A chain from his right ear to his nose brushed against his cheek. A crown of golden leaves set against his forehead, more a circlet than anything else.
He was all neon rainbow colors and blacks tonight, a hot pink fishnet covering his ebony tank top clad chest; the colors emphasized his pale complexion. The pants were tight though, the black material like a second skin and almost unnatural in material: not quite leather and not quite cloth. Boots with splatters of different colors of glow in the dark paint came up to his knees—lacing. More jewelry hung on his wrists and around his neck, from bangles to delicate chains with charms. Some were silver, other were made of gold. All of them had gemstones that glittered in the lighting.
Electric violet eyes landed on a patron as they moved to sit at the bar. And he moved to help them, but stopped when another worker took their order.
Good; he didn’t feel like talking. He never felt like talking. Likely a sign that he needed a good lay. Not a paltry lay. A damned good one. The kind of fuck you wrote poetry about in the pre-space era, making it seem like you were serenading a lily instead of rambling about the labia of a woman’s pussy.
He slapped a rag over his shoulder and opted to fill a wine glass with some of his own stock, the faewine you couldn’t get anywhere else and that a number of high dollar patrons came for.
Maybe it was time for a smoke.
Stupid man.
He refrained from sighing as he cleaned a glass and set it down on a shelf below. Long golden strands, half silver, white, and yellowed amber fell over his shoulder—partially loose and partially braided. Rings and dangly gems hung from his pointed ears, clicking together with the motion. A chain from his right ear to his nose brushed against his cheek. A crown of golden leaves set against his forehead, more a circlet than anything else.
He was all neon rainbow colors and blacks tonight, a hot pink fishnet covering his ebony tank top clad chest; the colors emphasized his pale complexion. The pants were tight though, the black material like a second skin and almost unnatural in material: not quite leather and not quite cloth. Boots with splatters of different colors of glow in the dark paint came up to his knees—lacing. More jewelry hung on his wrists and around his neck, from bangles to delicate chains with charms. Some were silver, other were made of gold. All of them had gemstones that glittered in the lighting.
Electric violet eyes landed on a patron as they moved to sit at the bar. And he moved to help them, but stopped when another worker took their order.
Good; he didn’t feel like talking. He never felt like talking. Likely a sign that he needed a good lay. Not a paltry lay. A damned good one. The kind of fuck you wrote poetry about in the pre-space era, making it seem like you were serenading a lily instead of rambling about the labia of a woman’s pussy.
He slapped a rag over his shoulder and opted to fill a wine glass with some of his own stock, the faewine you couldn’t get anywhere else and that a number of high dollar patrons came for.
Maybe it was time for a smoke.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
The following 2 users Like Blade's post: Angel Kimmi, Kat
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Blade - 01-19-2016, 01:41 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Blade - 01-19-2016, 02:10 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Angel Kimmi - 01-19-2016, 04:18 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Blade - 01-19-2016, 05:00 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Angel Kimmi - 01-19-2016, 08:06 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Blade - 01-20-2016, 03:11 AM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Angel Kimmi - 01-20-2016, 03:09 PM
RE: Titan's Ring [Walk-in] - by Blade - 07-12-2016, 12:31 AM