I WON’T LOSE HOPE, I WON’T GIVE IN
JUST LIVE AND BREATHE, TRY NOT TO DIE AGAIN.

Hazel mirrors barely graced over the intricately designed church ceiling, bod cold as he lay in an awkward, yet quite comfortable position on one of the short, shelf-like benches beside stained glass images of the Saints, an exhale of carbon dioxide pushing deliberately from pale rose red labrums the only sound heard. Pale facade held a look of sincere and languid boredom, shifting to allow his long pillars to cross over one another. Onyx and ivory converse hi-tops, worn comfortably down to nowhere near new, blended into the shadowy scene; dark chocolate strands fell across his facade, both obscuring his gaze as well as blending him into the shadows even more. Fingertips lightly traced the Atreyu logo on the onyx shirt clinging to his torso, the extent of his doldrums easy told by the endless tracing; absently his fingertips drew higher until they clasped the dull silver metal pendent, lightly rubbing the tarnished design. Crania tilted to the left to view the Saint closest to his twisted bod, mirrors darting over the emerald, maroon, orange, gold, pearl, and beige glass that made up the entire piece as the mascu desperately tried to remember the name. “Hmmph.” He let out a small sigh of disdain at his lousy memory, not quite caring about the Saint’s name so much as the fact he could remember only select things.

Dane’s breathing stilled and his crania tilted away from the Saints, bod deathly still and looking quite relaxed though he was confident in the fact that he could not be seen; and, if he could, then he’d be damned. The smirk that had disappeared graced his pale labrums again, cat-like vision seeking out the aura of whomever dare enter the church. Of course it wasn’t his, but the place was dilapidated; surely no one would want to enter for fear of falling through the decaying wooden planks that made up the floor, pews and altar? A curious look took over the mascu’s face and he took up breathing again, softly, as to not attract much attention to himself. That? Oh, my yes, the presence of this newfound night stalker would be announced later. A slight look of contempt crossed his mirrors, quickly moving his right wrist so that it was now contently by his side instead of bent and awkwardly positioned close to his crania, the left crossed over his thin, scarred stomach hidden under thin onyx fabric. Breath was cautiously inhaled as he let his mirrors graze the ‘intruder,’ who was butting in on nothing but his short time of pondering; a femme, with a seeming addiction to nicotine, as a cigarette protruded from her labrums. Crania tilted back to look at the Saint watching over him, another smirk making the corners of his labrums raising slightly as he thought of the Saint, watching over him; as if, darling, as if.

Looking back towards the femme, Dane allowed his bod to scoot downward slowly, making a soft scuffling sound as he did so; aiming to get up beyond the femme’s peripheral so that he might be able to give her a little fright. Even before the change the mascu enjoyed macabre horror, and, even if this femme didn’t apprieciate his measly little trick, more than likely he’d be laughing his ass off. He was just that easily amused. Crania lifted from the dusty bench, left hand reaching the short distance toward the wall to give him that extra push as he continued to move down slightly; the Saints stared down at him with disapproving gazes, but Dane could hardly have cared; he was way past saving and, plus, this was just harmless fun. Even though.. the dilapidated remains of the church probably wasn’t the best of places to frighten people, with the whole.. decaying.. thing going on. Either way Dane still moved a bit, slower now, as he considered scaring the femme. Ah, a better plan. The mascu lifted his torso from the bench slowly, letting his pillars slip over the side to place the soles of his converse squarely on the floor; elbows rested on bent knees, mirrors continuing to glance over the femme, from a different angle now. Crania tilted downward, mirrors picking up on a small, multi-coloured pebble and pondering on throwing it, before he did, fingers lightly rubbing the coarse surface.

Ah, sometimes it sucked to be an impulsive trickster, no?

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[ ooc. xDD hope you don't mind && sorry if its a bit jumbly / hard to understand - trying to get back into the feel of playing a sarcastic, prankster vampie. xDD will change if need be. ]

Dark chocolate strands were pushed away from his line of vision, enamels biting down on his lower labrum and giving off a slight clink as they collided with the two metal rings adorned there. New additions were always fun. Absently the four leaf clover sporting barbell clacked against the back of his pearly whites, the sound muffled by his smirking labrums; facade contorted in a look of mild discontentment as the dust-filled air finally became to much. Sending his bod into motion, heels of his palms pressed to the short wooden frame he’d been resting on to give himself that extra push to make himself stand, pillars straightening and leaning slightly back onto the bench. The five foot five mascu felt tall at that point, a smirk gracing his labrums as he looked down upon the now dustless wooden bench, of which only came to about his mid-calf. Yes, call him pitiful, but anything that could make him feel taller was something for him to smirk about. Palms absently brushed off the dirt clinging to the denim covering his bottom half, pulling off the meaningless zip up hoodie to reveal, completely, the Atreyu tee shirt he so loved.

Mirrors glanced around the now almost abandoned church, soft scowl replacing the smirk on his labrums. The pebble still rested in his palm, an absent motion sending it flying across the room to bounce dully with a hollow thud off of a pew. Boredom covered his facade again and he sighed, pillars sent into fluid motion as he decided to descend the small staircase after the femme. He was going to get his goddamn scare. Even if it killed him. A chuckle left his parched larynx; he was already dead, what use would it due to bargain his life for a measly scare? No, no, that would make no sense. But he was going to get it. And if the femme couldn’t take a bit of harmless fun.. Well, we’ll see about that after Dane got his scare tactic out of the way. Converse made soft thuds against the concrete staircase, cautious about making much noise; yes, his frame might have weighed 107, give or take a few pounds, but stealth was always something he’d had and wasn’t about to ruin his streak.

Ah, the damned oak doors. Dane hated those. They were greatly decorated, even if the outermost sides were windblown and colour-faded, the innermost sides slightly grafittied; of course the people had paid to fix that, but it didn’t stop kids from committing that particular felony. Mirrors darted to the door, ajar only slightly from the femme’s exit; varnish decorated fingertips twitched by his sides, his anticipation for the small scare evident; why was he going through all this silence to scare a femme, who’s aura screamed human? Well, simply because Dane was a jackass and felt the need to scare anyone who intruded on his thoughts, even if their intrusion was accidental. Left palm outstretched, aiming to push open the already parted oaken slab; and he did just that, pushing hard on the wood before ducking back inside. Damn, he’d miscalculated everything; goddammit, he was going to have to have a serious talk with that conscience of his.

---

[ ooc. meh, it sucks. v.v ]

Labrums were pulled into a smirk, hearing the winds die down enough to be considered just slight breezy. At least the air was cool and not humid; Dane hated nothing more than summer air, as he was adapted for cold weather, and cold weather only. Bod shifted again, leaning against the one door that was firmly closed before standing moments after he'd pushed the other, crania tilting as he crossed to the other side and taking the chance to peer outside as he did. The femme seemed to be staring at something, so far as he knew or cared, his mirrors glancing down the back of her frame. Dane himself was bisexual, proudly I might add, although his mind seemed to want him to go more for guys. Hell if he knew why, but he didn't; and he wasn't staring at the femme as if she were some sort of object. He'd try to keep his love interests same-species, but there was no guarentee that it would work. How the hell his mind got on the subject of his sexuality and species was beyond him, raising his hazel mirrors from the femme to the bruised sky above.

Exhaling, Dane crossed the threshold, another smirk drawing the corners of his labrums upward; he found it hilarious that people believed that vampires could not enter churches; they were just as free as anyone else, weren't they? And a church was a public standing, meaning that everyone could get in, correct? Yes, therefore, Dane could do whatever his little ass pleased inside that church-hopefully not get arrested, though, I mean, how would that look to the vampire society?-without needing to be invited in. Of course, he hated that 'invite only' rule; so many private residences he wanted to go into but couldn't unless the owner, or some gullible little child, told him he could enter; but at least the process only had to be done once for a particular house. He'd die, otherwise; as if he went back to the places, though. Thuds were evident but quiet on the concrete steps, a thought rushing through his brain but not sticking for more than a moment; What the FUCK is with all these goddamn steps?! God and his mother wouldn't want to walk to this goddamn place!

Absently a soft growl left his larynx and he stopped in his tracks, pulling a face and rolling his mirrors upward. Great going. Dane allowed his tongue to pass from his labrums to wetten the muscles slightly, running over normally lengthed enamels; he wasn't planning on feeding, of course. Or was he..? All depended on how badly the femme reacted; if she pissed him off, well, it wouldn't end quite well. Sure he didn't want to hurt anybody, but he'd be damned if anyone got away with making him feel like a fool. A coverup was needed, and one was quickly obtained; Dane remembered a Marlboro Red he'd stuffed in his pocket not long before he'd entered the church, and while he didn't smoke as often as it seemed he felt like it. "Got a lighter..?" He asked absently, having neared the femme just seconds before. My was he spacing today? And wait, wasn't he supposed to be playing a trick on her?

God damn short attention spans.

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[ ooc. lmfao, sorry for the randomness. >.> got lost in my own little world for a minute there. xDD ]

Mirrors drifted downward as the femme sat, gaze resting solely on hers; sure, he hated making eye contact, but, what the hell, why not? Motion was made to pull the lose denim waistline upward, studded black leather belt of no use at this moment in time; though the cobalt fabric was his size, they seemed to like falling and giving everyone a peek at the red plaid boxers beneath. Fingertips tugged at the hem of the Atreyu tee shirt, pulling it down over the belt in an attempt to, hopefully, keep spying eyes away. As if there were any, besides the femme, who looked locked in her own world. Of course his question was a stupid one, he knew that: just because he asked stupid questions meant nothing, enhanced hearing having picked up on the grinding of the lighter gears as she had gotten it to work, but he’d asked before he could stop himself; and plus, he’d known that the femme had had one even before his journey outside.

Dane cocked an eyebrow at the femme, watching her fumble to find the gasoline-filled lighter for his dumb ass; he hadn’t planned on smoking today, no, not at all, and he’d lost his other lighter. A pyro for sure, this mascu was, as hundreds of lighters and igniters littered his half dirty room. “Thanks.” His vocals came smoothly, words slightly hinted toward his Irish ancestery as his deep voice formed around the simple word. Fingertips grasped the lighter in his free hand, varnished tips looking quite dull as he searched his pockets for the cancer stick. Finding it finally, he placed it between his pale, smirking crimson labrums and flicked the lighter, free palm cupping around the flame to keep it alive as his back turned to the wind, a gesture his brother had taught him before he’d died. A soft inhale was taken, a lousy one just to get the cigarette lit, but the next hit was deeper, drawing the noxious fumes into his larynx. Smoke was kept inside his lungs for a good few seconds before exhaling, first through his nostrils, then his mouth, mirrors fixated on the sky before he glanced down, handing the lighter back.

Cancer stick was raised back to his labrums once more, drawing in another slow breath as he heard the femme’s next words. Tara, eh? Smirk widened a tad, shrugging a bit and exhaling the smoke before speaking. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m..” Vocals trailed off as he took another inhale off the cigarette, this one done on purpose since he was actually aiming to keep the cigarette intact as long as he could. “Dane.” Mirrors watched as this Tara girl extended her hand, returning the gesture after a moment and nodding toward her slightly, hand retreating back to his side afterwards. Thumb slipped through a belt loop on the side of his jeans, another intake of the noxious fumes taken before flicking the ashes off of the end, feeling neither calm nor jittery. Posh, how anyone could consider smoking a calming thing was beyond Dane.

---

[ ooc. meh, no, mine sucks. >.> stabs post- ]

A low sigh rumbled from his chest, exhaling smoke with it as Dane stood, crania cocked to the side, one hand in his pocket, the other hodling the still burning cigarette not far from his facade. Thoughts were racing through his brain, though he was ignoring them; he was quite good at that, even though, for a moment, he forgot how to block them - and was cursed with a song that kept repeating. Breathe in slowly now, darling don't lie to me. The song was quite favoured by the mascu, played repeatedly whenever he had batteries for his mp3; it was one of those songs you had to listen to, as if it compelled your brain to do so. Much like Fall Out Boy songs.. Damn those were addictive. Tear ducts closed over his coloured mirrors, revealing them once more seconds later, fingers slowly lifting the cigarette to his lips again and taking a deep hit from the cancer stick. Smoking was so unattractive, but he'd be damned if he wasn't doing it; another smirk crossed his labrums - he was already damned.

He exhaled, this time blowing the smoke away from the femme - or trying to, at least, as it looked like she was giving him some sort of hint with the frown on her labrums. Hey, wasn't his fault if he was being a jackass without knowing it. It came naturally, though, even he got on his nerves sometimes. But, most of the time he was okay with being slightly jackassy, though he toned it down quite a lot; he was thinking again, and another soft growl left his larynx, blocking his thoughts once more. Then he realized he probably sounded like a retard; quite literally. I mean, for Christ's sake, he was growling and there was nothing to be growling at! Or was there? Now he felt a bit like a psychopath - not a new feeling, neither was it a bad one, but he also felt quite deranged. Ah well. Hazels drifted downward to Tara again, feeling quite tall once more - damn, was he easily amused or what? - like he had felt in the church; alright, so it was probably just because she was sitting down, but hey.. he didn't care.

Dane raised an eyebrow, watching the femme's movements for she appeared quite cold; well, who wouldn't be, if they were out in a tank top on a cool, windy day? He smirked a bit, he himself quite comfortable with the weather and finding it nice compared to the sweltering heat that could've easily replaced the beloved wintery feel. Crania tipped downward slightly as he caught wind of her vocals once more, taking a hit from the cigarette once more before letting it drop to the ground and crushing out its last dying embers. It had mostly burned to ash anyway, and he could never smoke a whole one; he didn't know why, he just never could. "Stalking people." Ah, damn, there was that smartass tone! Dane shook his crania lightly, dark chocolate strands being pushed away from his mirrors for a moment as he did so. "I mean. There's not really a reason. T'is just a place to go. Yourself?" He corrected himself, feeling quite foolish; he should've just let his remark go untouched! But no, he found it would probably be easier to be 'civil' as some people called it; whoa, wait, he wasn't beating anyone up, was he?

So he was being fucking civil. Get a dictionary.

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[ ooc. bahaha! sorry for the randomness, i got carried away. O.O ]

Hazels shifted to the ground, the absence of the cigarette making him seem to fidgit as he moved to cross his slender arms over his stomach, only trying to find something to do with his hands now that he'd let the cigarette burn out upon the ground, black tipped fingernails glaringly dark upon the pale skin of his arms. Labrums tilted upward in a soft smirk, shrugging a bit at the femme's words. "You never know, dear, there are some a-class nutcases around here. Complete looney-toons. And not the Bugs Bunny type." Dane said, Irish tinted words meant to be playful though there was a hint of seriousness. There were some weirdos around, but, hey, he couldn't say much, could he? He was a weirdo to a lesser degree, one who pretended to stalk girls in churchyards.. Yeah, okay, maybe not a lesser degree, but he certainly wasn't the biggest wackjob around. "Oh? So you were stalking me? I must say I'm kind of disappointed with myself." Dane let a yawn escape his labrums, bending backward slightly to hear his back pop with a pleasant crack and sighing a bit.

Boredom crossed his handsome features, hazel mirrors shifting around the churchyard and inspecting what little rested there, sheerly because he felt like doing so. Churches so made him want to just strangle someone, with all the crosses hanging about. Truthfully, the only good thing about churches was that graveyards lurked somewhere nearby, and they were sometimes good places to hide- not to mention still-in-use ones had candles out the ass. Sure, it probably sounded stange, Dane being of the male portion of the population, but what could he say, he liked fire and using candles instead of his precious lighters was much easier. Not to mention some candles smelled hella good. [xD] Mirrors glanced down at the femme once more, this Tara person; she didn't look to much of a church-goer, but these days you just couldn't tell who did or didn't.

"Sure." Vocals were cool and calm, as usual, and his mirrors watched as the femme stood, his frame sliding backward oh so slightly to make sure that they wouldn't touch - most didn't know that Dane dearest was haptephobic, and those who did, didn't believe; sure, he'd shaken the femme's hand but that's minimal touching, and almost required in the form of exchanging greetings, wasn't it? Last time he'd checked, it was. But, either way, he watched as Tara descended the rest of the stairs, mirrors looking back up at the church and wondering if he should go back to get his hoodie- of course, that one was of miniscule importance to the mascu, but he'd already left about two other hoodies about this place; neither of them one of his favourites, of course, but he couldn't afford to buy new ones left and right. A light shrug rolled his shoulder blade backward, and he started after the femme, converse making soft thuds upon the concrete molded steps. Wait.. He wasn't sure where they would end up going. Wasn't that supposed to be his job? Ah, well, either way it was said and done, and it didn't really matter to him much anyway.


[ ooc. bleh. -stabs- suckysuckysucky. >.> ]

Bod twisted as he aimed to wipe the back of his jeans free of the dust that had coated the miniature bench, brows raising as he heard the small chuckle that was released from the lass's larynx and hazels rising to glance at her with an expression of sarcastic questioning. "Laughing at me, eh?" Tone was quiet and slightly teasing, mirrors laced with slight contentment - as if he had been nervous in the first place, no, but he felt better than he had before. "I don't know. I'm not familiar with the churchyard." Voice was emitted lightly, shrug rolling one of his slender shoulders backward before his brows raised again, watching the femme curiously as she started off, taking that as the hint to follow.

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[ ooc. mneh, still not finished, obviously. >.> ]