Decrepit Times
Serf
- Local time
- Today 5:37 PM
- Messages
- 24
- Age
- 27
It was silent in that office. Save for the monotonous ticking of the wall bound clock that read at the moment about three o'clock in the morning. The office, sparse in decoration. Simple grey walls painted to standard with nothing hung, not a picture suspended in a frame, not a poster detailing at least a bit of specific taste. The desk was normal. A nice dark oak that was polished and stained to a desirable degree. The top of it was a mess. Papers that one even at a glance could see the frantic scrawls of notes and drawn designs. A couple of pill bottles, one spilled to show off large medications of a blue toned variety. To the left of the pills was a laptop. A couple of large paragraphs written on a word document was there to be seen. Whether they had the setting to which the screen does not automatically turn off, or had recently moved the cursor. The lack of any person in the room delegates the former rather than the later. The paragraphs were detailed, even embroiled in what looked to be research of some kind.
Suddenly a large amount of noise came from down the hallway that connected the office to the rest of the building. A man walked in. The noise created through the shuffling and bumping of the walls he impacted during his obvious drunken movements. Facilitated through the bottle he had in hand, glass and black. A label he had already scratched off, but the fumes of alcohol were absolutely evident. His face was blemished by a bruise on his cheek, a cut that bled due to the cheekbone being pressed against the flesh from a fist. His own hands, at least the knuckles dried with blood. His hair was black. Short yet with a bit of length that was styled in the manner of more of a feather tip gelled look. He didn't seem particularly young, why with the stubble on his chin and the complexion of his skin one would correctly assume he was in his forties to fifties.
He in his professional looking coat, black and cloth. Juxtaposed by casual jeans. His unsteady legs got him into his office chair, or at least what could be assumed to be as such. The bottle lazily held down near his legs over an armrest to the left. The bottle being predominantly there it could be inferred that he used a dominant left hand. His lazy eyelids made it seem he could sleep at any given moment. However a spark of thought caused him to wake up completely, only to take a swig of the forlorn liquid that occupied the bottle in his hand. After wiping his mouth with his right hand he began moving the papers that occupied his desk in great excess. Slowly at first, but increasing in both pace and tenacity as he was apparently looking for something specific. Soon did he find it, quickly placing it on top of the keyboard of the laptop so that it may be found quickly.
Without pause or ceremony, he opens up the desk cabinet to which a handgun remained inside, and took it into his right hand. He finishes the bottle of alcohol before placing it gently on an exposed part of the desk. He places the weapon to his temple and pulls the trigger. The moment, instant. A body that quickly tilted to the right. Blood that poured out of the temple and began to drench his nice coat. The tilting of the body increased as the momentarily tensed muscles relaxed.
The sound of footsteps down the hall, coming to investigate the noise.
But before the person reached the doorway, did an item fall out of the coat pocket of the deceased corpse. Rolling on the floor, an item of metal. Intricate designs, gemstones and baubles that screamed but the most abstract of artist.
"Dad?"
The voice reached the doorway, and peered inside.
--------------------------------------------
Now, I'm looking for someone that feels like structuring the plot to which it fits both parties, and will be focused on dreams, psychosis, religion, and consciousness. It will be a mystery, and have some metaphysical concepts. But, I will say that all I ask is that you be a respectful human being that is willing to try and work with me. I am really friendly and enjoy talking ooc. This is for you if you enjoy a lot of world building and detail work on the narrative. Structure, movement of the writing.
Now, romance can easily be a subplot. But will have to be a slow burner. Lust is perfectly okay as a first go off but let's be relatively normal yeah?
If you like my style, this is what I am craving most right now. Would love to hear from someone! c:
Suddenly a large amount of noise came from down the hallway that connected the office to the rest of the building. A man walked in. The noise created through the shuffling and bumping of the walls he impacted during his obvious drunken movements. Facilitated through the bottle he had in hand, glass and black. A label he had already scratched off, but the fumes of alcohol were absolutely evident. His face was blemished by a bruise on his cheek, a cut that bled due to the cheekbone being pressed against the flesh from a fist. His own hands, at least the knuckles dried with blood. His hair was black. Short yet with a bit of length that was styled in the manner of more of a feather tip gelled look. He didn't seem particularly young, why with the stubble on his chin and the complexion of his skin one would correctly assume he was in his forties to fifties.
He in his professional looking coat, black and cloth. Juxtaposed by casual jeans. His unsteady legs got him into his office chair, or at least what could be assumed to be as such. The bottle lazily held down near his legs over an armrest to the left. The bottle being predominantly there it could be inferred that he used a dominant left hand. His lazy eyelids made it seem he could sleep at any given moment. However a spark of thought caused him to wake up completely, only to take a swig of the forlorn liquid that occupied the bottle in his hand. After wiping his mouth with his right hand he began moving the papers that occupied his desk in great excess. Slowly at first, but increasing in both pace and tenacity as he was apparently looking for something specific. Soon did he find it, quickly placing it on top of the keyboard of the laptop so that it may be found quickly.
Without pause or ceremony, he opens up the desk cabinet to which a handgun remained inside, and took it into his right hand. He finishes the bottle of alcohol before placing it gently on an exposed part of the desk. He places the weapon to his temple and pulls the trigger. The moment, instant. A body that quickly tilted to the right. Blood that poured out of the temple and began to drench his nice coat. The tilting of the body increased as the momentarily tensed muscles relaxed.
The sound of footsteps down the hall, coming to investigate the noise.
But before the person reached the doorway, did an item fall out of the coat pocket of the deceased corpse. Rolling on the floor, an item of metal. Intricate designs, gemstones and baubles that screamed but the most abstract of artist.
"Dad?"
The voice reached the doorway, and peered inside.
--------------------------------------------
Now, I'm looking for someone that feels like structuring the plot to which it fits both parties, and will be focused on dreams, psychosis, religion, and consciousness. It will be a mystery, and have some metaphysical concepts. But, I will say that all I ask is that you be a respectful human being that is willing to try and work with me. I am really friendly and enjoy talking ooc. This is for you if you enjoy a lot of world building and detail work on the narrative. Structure, movement of the writing.
Now, romance can easily be a subplot. But will have to be a slow burner. Lust is perfectly okay as a first go off but let's be relatively normal yeah?
If you like my style, this is what I am craving most right now. Would love to hear from someone! c: