I often wonder what type of goth you identify yourself with? You seem to be a corporate goth to me.
(Hi uhhh quick Mun note: Iām adding a treat in here specifically mentioning something from your blog, as an apology for making you wait so long for this answer OTL)
Dark perks up from his desk the very instant he senses a presence in his void. Subtle as he wasnāt with the body language, the demonās movement still has an uncanny sort of precision about it. He takes the question in with- what should be, by mortal perceptions, an enthused attentiveness. On the monochrome man, however, it simply appears as unbridled scrutiny, like heās studying his poor inquirer under a magnifying glass. He does finally soften it a bit with a smooth smile, though, as he steps around to lean his lower back on the front of the desk in a gesture of reception.
āWelcome to my humble void. Ah, and what an engaging question you have me pondering, lovely.āāThe demon makes a little performance of his mull, scratching a little at his head in contemplation, before he continues on to the answer.
āYouāre right, in a way, but in another youāll find Iām quite the other side of the coin. You see, I have a knack for the compound, and the contradictory, my dear. Goth fashion is where youāre correct. I do conduct myself, in manners and dress, as a proper business man, yet I am always drawn to the- often dramatic, appeal of black and white fabric with silver or crimson accents. Oh, and I donāt like to ruin the fun, so you may let this stay just between us, since itās related to your question, but the eyes thing? Yeah, thatās just a ā¦.naturally occurring coincidence.
Anywho~ Goth philosophy however, is a different story. Iām far more of a- Iāll call it, Vampiric Romantic. Maybe I just desperately want to see it in myself, who knows. Whatever the case: I just canāt help but be engrossed in the broken-is-beauty principles of romantic goth subculture. I find such comfort and inspiration in thisā¦ adoration of the unhealed, and the perpetually mourning. Ugh, and the expressions of these things! The books, paintings, and so on! My word, theyāre just so beautiful, I get short of bre-ā
Suddenly, Darkiplier cuts himself off, and stares for a moment. A bright glint of recognition lights up his features. He snaps his fingers, and then points directly at his asker.
āAh! Poetry too! Iāve seen some of your work. Itās wonderful! ā¦Oh look at me what am I doing. Forgive me, I do get carried away sometimes..ā After clearing his throat, and adjusting his tie, Dark swiftly drops his hands back to the desk. Then, he ā¦ simply carries on with confidence, like he didnāt just rudely point. Whoops.
āReturning to the rest of my Goth philosophy: while I am no human being, Iām not actually a vampire either, but I do share one extremely similar characteristic with each. Iām no stranger to the human-like desire to allow those utterly charming creatures to sink their fangs into my neck, and I do technically have fangs of my own, but mine arenāt effective in that sort of āfeeding,ā capacity. That doesnāt mean I wonāt taste blood for myself by other means, though.
The reason I called myself vampiric is: like the vampire, I have an insatiable bloodlust, but of course Iām still not one, so unlike the vampire, I canāt just taste blood and be done with it. I need to feel it. To watch it spatter, run, pool, and settle into stains. I have to know itās drained, and has left a hollow husk of what used to be.. alive.. behind. And I have to be the cause of all the above. Then, and only then, am I satisfied. Until anotherā¦ ācraving,ā comes along, of course.ā
The more he explains this ā¦ āvampiric philosophy,ā of his, the more little crackles sound at Darkās sides. What were typical- except for the monochrome of course, human-like hands are now sharp claws and an uncanny black marking of sorts creeping up blanched knuckles. The demonās aura begins to distort, as his passionate little smile morphs into somethingā¦. unnaturally sinister. He seems to recognize it as well, because he pushes off his desk, and returns to his seat, just before his claws can do any real damage to the wood.
āOh, and itās beautiful too. Iāve made magnificent masterpieces, you know! Itās such a shame they arenāt the type that can be admired in a gallery. Oh well, Iāll just have to keep the memories alllll to myself.~ Hah! Ahhahahah! Silly me, Iāve rambled on and on, havenāt I? I do hope I at least answered your question, lovely!ā
