Thread: Questionable Interests (Translucentfeathers & Goddess)

The email notification popped up again and Damien glanced over at the large clock perched over the mantle of the small fireplace in the room. He decided he had enough time to watch a movie and sneak in a bit of studying while finishing up his dinner. As the opening scene played for the movie Se7en, Damien took a few more bites of his fried rice before he cracked open the new text book he had gotten for the Criminal Justice Ethics course he was required to take to study Forensic Psychology. Damien afforded another glance to his laptop screen and an eyebrow arched when he saw a new message on the forum site. Clicking it open he snickered when he read over the promise of an invitation to a ritualistic killing. His dark eyes scanned over the rest of the message before humming slightly and shutting his laptop after reading the choice in wording, see you when I see you . It made him wonder if they would ever get to that point where they would want to meet. It made Damien anxious in a way he couldn't explain. The idea of seeing someone else in the flesh who had the same interests, sense of dark humor and had the distinct ability to make him feel excited just over a brief 'You Have 1 New Message' alert left him wanting something he never thought he would have. A chance to open up and just be himself around another human being. An opportunity to drop the walls and mask he hid behind on a daily basis to simply explore what it was like to interact with another person without fearing he would send the other person screaming. A hand came up to scratch idly at the back of his neck before his fingers traced over the black widow tattoo he had on the side of his throat just at his collar, just barely visible over where the long sleeved shirt collar hung over his shoulders. Damien had acquired quite the collection of ink over the years. There were scorched feathers that looked as if they were caught in motion falling down his spine and littering across and contrasting sharply over the pale skin of his slender back. His favorite quote by the author Oscar Wilde about masks was written in beautiful script across the top of his back, spanning between his shoulder blades and marked the point where the feathers began their descent to the small of his back, a few stretching and slipping past his hips and thighs. The small black widow on the side of his neck was his favorite, though the barbed wire tangled and cutting across his calves and wrapping around his ankles were a close second. The masks of comedy and tragedy on his ribs, one on the left, the other on the right, were the largest pieces he currently possessed, spanning across his sides from the hip bone up to his ribs. So far everything but the spider could be hidden easily with clothing, and even that if in professional attire wouldn't be an issue. He had several others planned in small notebook of doodles, sketches and quotes Damien had gathered and hidden away for later inspiration. Damien shifted on thr couch, eyes feeling a little heavy as he studied the book in his lap, body relaxing into the couch as he remembered the steady thrum of addictivr, heady pain he felt as he was tattooed. It was an intoxicating blend of sharp flares of pain mingled with dull throbbing aches along with the satisfaction of getting something beautiful to mark his pale skin forever... The knock on the door had him jerking awake violently, eyes snapping open as the book in his lap fell to the floor. He must have drifted off and Damien blushed brightly at having let his control slip as he sat up and tried to shake the sleep off of him. A hand slipped over his face, brushing the mop of black and dark blue hair from his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and paused the movie. It took a few minutes to get his bearings as he made his way through the dark living room to a lightswitch, grimacing at the almost violent way the light flared the room into life. With a shake of his head he unlocked the door, a neutral and polite expression on his face to try and regain some sense of the control he lost for the sake of his visitor. The man was a prep, or at least resembled one in those clothes, the cliche polo, the pressed slacks and casual business shoes. He locked away the grimace he felt and focused in on the guy's face. He was certainly attractive, and Damien found himself studying the sharp blue eyes hidden by glasses. Damien offered a slow nod, You must be Joseph, it's a pleasure. Name is Damien, he offered, while stepping aside to let the other man in. I figured first we could discuss roommate agreements and rules? He asked, nodding towards the couch.