In the Dark

/ By mephistopheles [+Watch]

Replies: 6 / 41 days 5 hours 18 minutes 12 seconds

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  1. [Allowed] Mun

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[b Person A] knows not to talk to strangers, but there's something so endearing about [ [b Person B ]] that they can't help but to chit chat. Little does [b A] know, they'll be regretting it very soon.



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Roleplay Responses

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There was a smile in response to his suggestion. A smile that lit up the already bright shop, or at least that’s what the tall one’s imagination led him to believe. Surely he would accept the offer to bring in the guitar. Yet, the smile disappeared as the short customer’s gaze was cast to the floor. The shop owner replayed the conversation in his head.[i Did I say something stupid, purple? The offer seemed fine to me.] Just as he was about to investigate further, the blue eyes were back on him and the smile had reappeared, like the sun peeking through dark clouds after a storm.

“Alright then, that’ll work for me.” The words that he’d been waiting to hear. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling back, giving a shake of his head as his promise to not laugh at the other’s lack of musical skill. And while the agreement to the offer was important, the other managed to say something even more important. Julien. His name was Julien. Knowledge of his last name would be even better, but it was still nice to be able to put a name to his face.

[i Are you terrible at the guitar or are you just saying that, Julien? I guess I’ll find out in the near future. Either way I won’t laugh...but I might cover my ears if you are telling the truth.]

[#02407e “No need to apologize. And, for the record I didn’t think you were being a bitch. I’ve had much worse said to me in this store by middle aged mothers. I’m glad I was able to save you from the boxes and help solve your string dilemma. You can call me Demetri.”] A familiar feeling crept into his mind as he watched Julien brush a strand of hair behind his ear. It was a feeling he knew all too well and it disrupted his current euphoric state. He knew that seeing this man again would only make things worse, but it was much too late to retract his offer.

Perhaps if there was a large gap of time between now and the next time Julien visited the shop, Demetri could regain control. Enough time to fight back the undeniable urge to sweep this small one off his feet and protect him from everything bad in the world. The best move would be to answer the question about when to stop by with a lie. It would be easy to just say he would be going on vacation for a couple weeks and to stop by after that.

[i Would that be enough time to clear you out of my head?]

Julien was in no way making his decision easy with the cute way he had leaned in, as if they were school children sharing a secret. He wasn’t particularly worried about someone else helping him with the strings. There were only two other employees at the store. Sammie was very part-time and had no idea how to string a guitar. She would call him if Julien stopped by. Owen worked much more than her, but he was fairly lazy and wouldn’t hesitate to call him either. What made Demetri stop and think before lying about when to stop by, was that Julien said he didn’t want to miss him on his day off.

[i Is that really because you don’t want to tell someone else that you’re clueless, or do you want to see me again? No. I’m jumping to conclusions. It makes sense that you would want me here so that I can restring the guitar. But I can't help feeling that there's something more here. What are you thinking?]

Yes, his thoughts were getting ahead of him. This was a customer and he needed to stop letting his mind wander to strange places. Just as he began to come to terms with that, Julien leaned away but stepped closer. And then his hand was on his arm. Demetri looked down at the hand, not truly believing what he was seeing. A few pats and then a squeeze. [i Am I imagining this? It feels very real.]

“Besides, I could get used to these strong hero arms saving my dumb ass.”

[i Wait, Julien, are you flirting with me? So I wasn’t being crazy. There’s a connection between us.]

[#02407e “You can come back whenever it’s convenient. I own the place so I’m here a lot, and even when I’m not here, I’m here.”] He used the arm that Julien hadn’t sequeezed to gesture towards the ceiling. [#02407e “I live upstairs. So if you happen to stop by and I’m not here just let Sammie or Owen know that you’re here to see me. These strong hero arms are also available after store hours. The outside door to my apartment is just around back, you need only to knock. Whenever.”]

A coy smile overtook his lips after he was done speaking. Demetri stared down into the blue eyes, wondering if what he said would be considered flirty by the other. He had intended it to sound flirty, though not extremely forward.

[i I’m no good at flirting, Julien. It’s been too long. I hope you won't judge me for that.]

Demetri lifted his hand and placed it on top of the purple locks, patting three times. [#02407e “I look forward to seeing this vibrant hair sometime soon.”]
  / mephistopheles / 10d 14h 23m 43s
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[Slabo+27px [center [size14 The other spoke so politely, so invitingly that it made the shorter male’s stomach churn. How could he have been so rude to this guy? Here the tall, handsome stud was, just trying to help his customers and in comes a weirdo shoving his face in racks and giving the good man some very unnecessary sass. The offer to bring in his guitar and have the other look at it immediately put a bright smile on his face. It was appealing, the idea that someone could not only give him the strings he needed, but potentially teach him how to put them on himself. Lips parted to respond but a streak of pink invaded his mind. Feeling a bit sick, he realized he’d have to have a good reason to leave his apartment with his guitar.

One might think that getting new guitar strings would be enough of a reason, but not for his girlfriend. There would be endless questions, fights and likely arms would swing. ‘Who are you going to see?’ ‘What’s more important than me?’ ‘Are you cheating on me?’ All things that the purple male was far too familiar with. Just about any time he wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t work or where she wanted him to go. Casting his gaze to the floor, a downtrodden swirl of emotions was clear in his eyes. He dejectedly struggled with the decision. Was the impending fight worth him getting these strings?

As blue eyes met the man waiting on an answer, it was decided that a fight would be well worth it for no other reason than getting to see this captivating individual again. In a moment of what felt like selfishness, he turned his lips upright and gave the other a sparkling grin. Arms crossing over his chest, he tilted his head to the side. [#9509e0 “Alright then, that’ll work for me. But you have to promise not to laugh. I’ve got like.. The green thumb of instruments, I’m really terrible.”] A hearty chuckle shook his shoulders. Decidedly, he owed this man an introduction. Perhaps he also just really wanted to know his name.

[#9509e0 “I’m Julien by the way. Thanks for helping me up and wanting to help with the strings. And uh.. Sorry for being such a bitch. This place is a little overwhelming when you have no idea what you need. Thank god you were here to save me from those boxes.”] With a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, he lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. Oh god, was he flirting with this charming man? No, surely not. He was just being friendly.

Despite his attempts to deny what stirred in his chest, the embers had already taken hold and smoldered into a warm glow of a fire. Why was he so easily captivated by someone he just met? There was no such thing as love at first sight. In fact, Julien barely believed in love, period. It was more just words you say to someone than an actual feeling. So what was this? Finally seeming to accept his attraction, it did little to help him comprehend his issue. It must just be the bright haired man being all too eager for the touch of another man. Something more than just a one night stand hidden behind the excuse of “I’m not into men but if I’m drunk, a fuck is a fuck.”

Julien wanted to be able to allow himself to desire the things he had always desired without feeling as if he were failing someone. The release of being himself without answering to everyone but the only person that should matter. Him. Maybe this man was only someone Julien thought could break him from this mundane life he lived. Would that be using him if he genuinely felt attracted to him? The concept of using and abusing was lost on Julien. The violent and toxic lifestyle his girlfriend forced upon him was his new normal. Having conditioned Julien to feel as if how they lived was what Julien wanted, she had completely distorted his perception on healthy relationships. False words of ‘I love you’ with no grasp of what they even meant. Between his mother’s conditional love and being in an abusive relationship, pretending everything was fine and that he was happy was the only way he could fathom getting himself through it. Unfortunately it was something nearly unnoticed. His own suffering and misery lost to him in a pleasant haze of ignorance.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too dangerous to get just a bit closer to this man. See him a few more times, get help with his guitar and then put it all behind him. Yes, that’s what he would do. [#9509e0 “So, when do you want me to come back? Don’t wanna come out here and miss you on your day off or something.”] Leaning forward a bit, a hand blocked the side of his face as if to tell a secret to the other, [#9509e0 “I don’t wanna have anyone else have to rescue the damsel in distress if I drop by and you aren’t here to help. And I do NOT want to tell someone else that I have no clue what I’m doing.”]

While he leaned back, he took a step closer and placed a hand on the other’s arm, patting it softly and giving it a squeeze. [#9509e0 “Besides, I could get used to these strong hero arms saving my dumb ass.”] Okay, yeah. He was definitely flirting now. And probably laying it on way too thick. Too late now. ]]]
  ᴊᴜʟɪᴇɴ / Mun / 16d 6h 26m 43s
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Although he hadn’t crossed the store in a particularly quiet way, his presence seemed to surprise the customer, the purple head knocking into the boxes above him. [i Was I that quiet or were you just that lost in your own thoughts?] The customer pulled his face out from the boxes, allowing him to get a better look. Blue pools peered up at him. Eyes that made his heart beat just a little faster. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in, and luckily he got the chance to take a long look at them as the purple one hesitated to take his hand. [i Was it too presumptuous of me to assume you need help? To be fair, you looked pretty lost.]

Finally, the customer let out a huff and took his hand. He struggled to swim back up from those captivating blue eyes, regrettably tearing his dark ones away to keep himself from coming off as a creep. Just as soon as his eyes were free, he was pulled in by something else. Silently, he marveled at the male’s much smaller hand as he helped him up from the floor. Aside from the size it was also incredibly smooth. Especially against his own callused hands, the result of years of violin and piano playing.

Now with both of them standing he also got a better idea of the purple one’s height. He wasn’t short, but the pianist often looked like a tower whenever he stood next to anyone below 5’10”. He found the height difference between them to be rather endearing, and combined with the feel of the smaller hand grasped within his own he wanted nothing more than to whisk this customer off his feet. He was so suddenly willing to give this man whatever his heart desired after only a couple of minutes in his presence. A dangerous mindset for him to be in. One that could lead him down a very familiar destructive path.

[i I should be careful around you. I’ve been so well behaved lately, why am I willing to ruin that just for the chance to be around you more?]

The customer’s response to his question about strings kept his thoughts from spiraling further down the rabbit hole, lifting him from the endless darkness that lurked in his mind. Surprisingly, the purple one spoke rather confidently, declaring that he knew exactly what he needed. A sassy response complete with a hand on the hip. Yet, seconds later he sang a different tune after looking over the display again. Admitting defeat with crossed arms, he looked sheepish as he went into more detail about his string dilemma. He seemed more sincere, even with the sassy tone, though the shop owner didn’t mind one bit.

[i Why do you look so ashamed about asking for help? Are you used to doing things for yourself? That’s unfortunate. There’s no shame in asking for help. Should I tell you that?]

Nimble fingers straightened a few of the boxes on the rack, and he softened his expression before responding. [i You don’t have to worry, purple. I’ll help you.] A small smile spread across his lips, revealing a set of straight pearly whites.[#02407e “I appreciate the honesty. This shop is a no judgement zone, so don’t feel bad about not knowing something or asking for help. Nothing would please me more than helping you, but I’m afraid I can't recommend anything without knowing the strings that need to be replaced. I don’t want to waste your time or money with the wrong strings.”] He lightly stroked his chin, as if contemplating the best course of action despite already knowing exactly what he wanted to say. [#02407e “I’ll tell you what, how about you stop by again sometime with the guitar? That way I can take a look at which strings need replaced. I can replace them for you, free of charge, and you can watch so that you’ll know what to do next time. Does that sound good?”]

[i I hope it does. I would like to see you again.]
  / mephistopheles / 10d 14h 54m 51s
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[Slabo+27px [center [size14 So deeply absorbed in the bombarding nagging of his own frustrations, the approaching footsteps fell on deaf ears, completely unnoticed. With nearly enough courage to get up and bolt, the man was seconds from rising to his feet. The voice however, made him jump, knocking his head against some of the overhanging boxes. Hands flailed out to secure that none went flying off the racks in his panic. Pulling dented face out of the boxes with a glare, he cast his eyes upward to- what somehow was the most attractive man he had ever seen. Breath lost for a moment as he listened to the man continue to speak, his eyes slowly began to narrow. How dare this handsome shit head scare him. And worse yet, think he didn’t know what he was doing. Obviously he was merely… resting? Yes, he was resting. Before he was rudely interrupted.

A kind hand was held out and somehow the fear of looking stupid was the last thing on his mind despite the extent of the worry he previously endured. Now was the time for a very important decision. Take it, or stand up on his own? His tanned skin was beautiful and his hand was probably so much larger than the purple haired’s own. He really did want to take it. But.. he wasn’t gay. Taking this man’s hand would look pretty gay wouldn’t it? No way he could do that, he was 100% completely straight. As straight as they came. No devilishly gorgeous man with the most intense yet caring eyes and the softest looking lips would ever… change that.

A huff was released and an uncontrollable heat in his cheeks spread that was only hoped to be unseen, he took the man’s strong hand and let him help hoist him up. A spark of some mostly suppressed desires that had been smoldering his whole life but rarely acted on came boiling like a storm to the surface. As expected, the other's hand was larger than his and the contrast between their skin tones was alluring. Wanting nothing more than to hold this guy's hand all day, he had to remind himself of how straight and not at all bisexual he was. He absolutely did [b not] have a preference for men. Not in the slightest. Regrettably, he retracted his hand and knew he [i must] rip his eyes away from the other, instead looking back to the strings. A safe haven from the drowning feeling that was gazing upon the other’s face.

What strings did he need? Shit, he should know that too. How could he be so absolutely dumb? The possibility of explaining that he needed all of them, to replace an entire set of strings was sounding fairly reasonable right about now. That was his safest bet at this point. [#9509e0 “Does it look like I need help? I know exactly what I need, thank you very much.”] Fuck. That wasn’t at all what he was going for. Rather stuck in what words spilled from his betraying lips, he held one hand on his cocked hip, pointing a finger over the display and scanning. [#9509e0 “Obviously I need.... Um..”]

With slowly squinting eyes and lips ever tightening into an unsettled pout, his eyes darted a bit before he whined and crossed his arms. [#9509e0 “Fine, I guess I need help so like.. You tell me what I need or something..”] There was no desire to admit the need for help nor was there as much anxiety about looking stupid. He had already achieved the peak of stupidity with his head in the strings trick. The gig was up though and he glanced at the worker with a sheepish expression that told of his uncertainty.

[#9509e0 “I don’t know what strings I need I just need some, okay? I don’t even know what like.. Model the guitar is but it’s acoustic and it’s old. Used to be my dad’s. So.. you can help right?”] Sure, it was fairly unnecessary for his tone to sound so sassy and borderline rude, but he had to be vulnerable to get all that out for god’s sake, he was trying his best. At least the last bit came out with genuine sincerity. An uneasy itch dug into the back of his neck, an itch that was soon scratched, somehow easing him a bit.]]
  ᴊᴜʟɪᴇɴ / Mun / 34d 20h 50m 3s
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The afternoon in the music shop had been quiet, as it was on most weekday afternoons. A few people stopping in to buy small, miscellaneous items and one person stopping in to rent one of the soundproof rooms in the back to record a song.

Long, thin fingers drifted effortlessly across the white and black keys of an old piano. Each touch was with purpose. Some strikes against the keys soft, and others more intense to match the dark melody of the piece positioned on the music rack that sat within eye range of the pianist. The owner of the thin fingers sat perfectly straight atop the cushioned bench. Even sitting down, his tall height was apparent. Dark eyes followed his own fingers as they swept across the keys, barely glancing at the composition on the music rack.To an outside observer he would look as if he was lost in the music.Then, abruptly, his hands stopped playing and instead slammed down in frustration, creating a cacophony of sound that lingered in the otherwise quiet room.

The man grabbed the composition from the rack and looked it over. A slew of corrections, easily noticeable by the eraser marks, and notes in his tiny handwriting stared back at him.There was still something off about it. He fingered the pencil that rested behind his ear, hidden by the mess of chestnut hair. Removing the pencil, he held it above the paper but was hesitant to change anything. Normally, composing a piece didn’t take him this long, but lately he had been in a slump. It was hard to pin down what he needed to change to make it sound the way he wanted it to sound. Was he lacking the proper inspiration? If that was true then he would never finish the piece. Inspiration was fleeting, and moreover there was nothing in his life currently that sparked any inspiration or desire to create.

He pushed the original composition aside and closed his eyes. Two deep breaths. His fingers lightly touched the piano keys once again, though this time he wasn’t playing his own creation. The tune of Clair De Lune, L.32 filled the small shop. His fingers moved expertly, eyes still closed. He didn’t need sheet music for this song. The lovely melody filled every inch of the shop, entertaining an audience of no one. Just as the man really began to get into the song, the small bells above the door jingled. A signal that a customer had opened the door and was about to step inside. His hands froze, hovering over the keys as he watched the door, most of his face hidden by the top of the piano.

The customer was different than the people that typically frequented the shop, to say the least. Most of his customers were hipsters, children taking lessons, or older people. This young man was neither of those things. The pianist shifted, preparing to rise from the bench but stopped himself when he saw the young man spin around, seemingly taking in the shop. Like a kid in a candy shop. That expression applied perfectly to this customer.

[i Who are [b you?]]

[i Purple hair. I’m guessing that you want attention? You want to be noticed. After all, you don’t dye your hair purple if you want to blend into a crowd. Your style is fairly decent and you have an attractive face. Are you some kind of performer? Some local rockstar, perhaps?]

He watched the male wander over to the guitars. Yet, it seemed he was looking for strings, as the sight of them excited him. He even gave a whispered cheer, which was easy to hear in the close quarters of the shop. However, the cheerfulness disappeared as he looked over a strings pack. He put the pack back and looked through the other options to no avail.

[i No, I must be wrong. You seem a little confused by all of the options. A performer would know what kind of strings to get for their guitar. Maybe you’re a beginner. Oh, you’re putting your head down on the rack. Have you given up? You haven’t even asked for help.]

Finally, the brunette rose from the piano bench and put on a warm smile as he crossed the store to the rack of guitar strings. He leaned one elbow on the rack and looked down at the customer who had apparently decided to give up right in the middle of his store. [#02407e “A lot of options, right? I know it can be a little discouraging but I’m here to help. First, though, let me help you up from the floor. I’m not saying you can’t stay there and wallow in your sorrows, but it doesn’t look that comfortable,”] he spoke softly and offered an olive-complexion hand down to the other. [#02407e “Which strings do you need to replace?”]
  / mephistopheles / 35d 2h 7m 5s
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[Slabo+27px [center [size14 Hesitant steps drew near a local music store as they had many a time before. The glistening eyes of a young man fixated on the sign in trepidation. A heavy swallow to force down the anxiety did little to nothing at all, to the man’s dismay. He had been here before, time and again getting only this far, only able to stare but never to walk in. Despite the all too familiar encouragement he sang in his head, he knew it to be folly. Nothing he hadn’t told himself the last few times he had approached this establishment. What was a simple shop full of musical instruments and wares, was a hurdle of sorts to this one. Something told him to turn around and try again another time, though would that prove any more fruitful than the previous attempt? The one before that? Muscles tightened with his nerves as he readied to turn on his heels, however the cool touch of metal rested firmly in his palm shocked even himself. Apparently his body was done and tired of his cowardice. He was going in that store whether he liked it or not.

Strings. New guitar strings was all he needed. Inexperienced handling of the guitar that once belonged to his father long forgotten, had lead to multiple strings popping free from their binds with only the nasty grit of a sound in his ears. The anxiety felt had boiled up from this fact. The guitar had been in operable condition for as long as he could remember. And though he played, he knew himself that he was far from good at the art. Yet there was a sense of gratification he received when he heard the plucking of those strings. A calmness that washed over and relaxed him. It helped him to focus on something and in the same breath, to escape from everything. While he had set to teaching himself how to become better at playing the guitar, no progress could surely be achieved with a lack of properly functioning strings.

The issue then, was his lack of knowledge. As simple as walking into this music store and asking for help was, the man had pride. Admitting that he had a guitar to play with next to no familiarity with the instrument, not even enough to know what kind of strings to purchase? That was an absolute travesty. Something that kept him from coming here for weeks. Thankfully enough, his underlying desire to once again return his fingers to the chords and hear the out of tune, broken music of his own creation spurred him on. Once frozen feet now shuffled through the threshold and into a place that would unknowingly change every fiber of his existence.

Eyes wide with the childish sparkle of awe, the young man nearly spun in a full circle to take in everything his blue orbs could manage to spot. There were instruments and various supplies everywhere. It was truly breathtaking to someone who had the strong need to be creative. Even the walls held smaller instruments, some so high up he’d narily be able to reach without a ladder. Luckily he only needed strings today, though perhaps this place warranted a return visit for something more in his foreseeable future.

The man himself was a sight to behold. His bright purple hair, obviously dyed stood out like a sore thumb. While the hair framed around his face and head was cut in a short, layered style, hanging over his shoulder was a much longer ponytail of voluminous, just as layered hair. It was styled purposefully, and obviously very well taken care of. Under his right ear, opposite the side of his ponytail hung a decorative strand of beads with a dice charm at the end. Over a black v-neck shirt, he donned a dark green, heavy coat with a black fur collar. It looked to be just a bit too big for him, slightly baggy with sleeves that threatened to cover nearly half of his hands. With black, distressed skinny jeans and slightly faded black canvas shoes, his look was complete with a rather attractive face, albeit somewhat feminine for a male. If nothing else the man seemed to keep up with his appearances.

Suddenly spotting guitars, both acoustic and electric off on the far wall from where he stood, the enthusiastic male quickly and quite eagerly made his way over, all fear melted into excitement. Studying the guitars on the walls, he hummed and pinched at the side of his lip with his teeth in assessment. Some looked similar to the one he had. Yet, even then, he noticed no obvious sticker or sign on the instruments that specified which strings they required. Darting his attention back and forth, he noticed a rack below the guitars with small packs of strings spread across. Unable to keep his joy to himself for his accomplishment, the man cheered out in a yell of a whisper, [#9509e0 “Yes! Gotcha!”] A nearly manic giggle escaped his lips. This was easier than he expected.

Though as he picked up a pack and read it over, he felt as if he were cursed. Yes, that must be it. Despair washed over his face. Nothing on the thin box said [i clearly] for someone uneducated in music, which guitar those strings were for. No, it must just be this box in particular. Frantically placing it back and kneeling down to card through every other box, they all held the same results. He must be going insane. What kind of sick sadist would make strings so complicated? Did guitars even have mandatory types of strings or were all strings universal? Perhaps he could pick out any pack and they’d work. Right? Hand shakily reaching out, he hesitated, momentarily stopping above several boxes before letting out a disgruntled whine of disappointment. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head forward into the rack, the boxes pushing back and to the sides to accommodate for the sudden presence of the fluffy, purple foreign body. Or foreign head, rather.

He was fine with this. He could die, buried in these strings. These god awful stupid strings that caused more trouble than they were worth. Could he have just as easily asked a worker for help? At the chance of looking stupid? No way. It was out of the question. He knew he needed to get out of here quickly, otherwise he’d cause a larger scene than intended. Not that he intended to cause any scene at all. He could only hope that he hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention and make an attempt at escape. If he could just will himself out of his slump against this surprisingly comforting rack of metal hangers and hard cardboard boxes that threatened to dent his self pitying head.]]]
  ᴊᴜʟɪᴇɴ / Mun / 34d 21h 41m 29s

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