What Makes Your Heart Beat

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EquinoxSol

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Cyril slouched on the couch, his hood pulled up over his eyes. He wasn't doing much, just sitting there, but anyone who knew him for long knew that he was deep in thought when he was like this. When he finally looked up, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Livia's basement.

Cyril's longtime friend Livia owned a goth and steampunk boutique, and she let Cyril sleep in her basement whenever he couldn't return home. In exchange, Cyril would don a set of dark clothes and help around the boutique. Yawning as he checked the time, seeing that the store would open in thirty minutes, he pushed his hood down, standing up.

Sighing, he walked up the steps to the door that led to the back of the store. Livia was there, drinking her usual morning coffee, already adorned in a short black skirt, tight black buttonup, with all the buttons except for the middle one undone so that her lacey bra was free for anyone to see, and her favored thigh-high boots that she loved so much. Around her neck hung several paganistic necklaces, and she had heavy dark eyeliner.

Forcing himself not to oggle at her breasts, which was pretty difficult, all things considered, Cyril moved his green eyes to her dark brown ones. "Um," he said, "What do you want me to wear today...?" Normally, she would have him in some sort of industrial goth getup, all long jackets and camo pants, making him feel unbelievably weird whenever a cute girl walked in. However, Livia insisted that Cyril looked "H. O. T. Hot," when he was dressed like that, and obviously did so for the eye candy.

"I was thinking that you'd be in the Victorian line today, y'know, the top hat, cane, and longcoat. I was thinking that we could get a headstart on the Victoria Con this year, since last year we didn't start early enough and had a shitton of leftover stuff. You'd look nice in Victorian clothes, I think, and I'm pretty sure our friend the Corsetted Beauty would think you could be her dark Romeo." With an evil smile, Livia stood up, downing the rest of her coffee in one go. "C'mon, I'll get your clothes."

By the time Livia opened up shop, Cyril was dressed in a long dark overcoat, a vest, slacks, a dark purple buttonup, and dress shoes. To add to the effect, Livia placed a tophat on his head, made him don a pocketwatch, to be placed in the vest pocket, and giving him a cane to carry around. Frowning at himself in the mirror that was in the breakroom, Cyril sighed, brushing his black hair out of his eyes so that he looked more old-fashioned.

Heading out into the store, he stood at the counter, a bored expression immediately coming to his face. Typically, goths didn't get up early, and it was always slow before noon almost all the time.

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Rules:
  1. Swearing is fine
  2. Romance is fine
  3. Any characters are fine, come up with your own ideas!
  4. Move the plot
  5. Character's ages are 16+
  6. Have fun!
  7. OOC: What Makes Your Heart Beat OOC
 
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A soft breeze blew gently across the street, where the small, humble store resided; "Black Heart" it was called. To the normal passerby, they would see a mere shop selling clothes belonging to a certain community that most people would shy away from. Their dark and gloomy mannerisms, as the stereotype goes, hung like a plague on them when they roam the streets. And thus, in turn, the "normal" people would avoid them "like the plague".

At least, that was the information he was able to gather from his many visits to this realm.

"The streets, the lives; there are so many. She would be most delighted to see this," he murmured, amused at the sight of it.

Seven eons, and then she will return.

He sighed at the memory of it; thankfully it was not an awfully long period from where he was, but the wait aches him so.

In time, my lady, in time.

"Looks like a hot noon coming, don't ya think?" a voice spoke to him from his side.

He turned to see a rather plump man, dressed in only a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Beads of sweat formed all around him, making him a rather disgusting sight to see; it was typical of men of this age and time to be such pigs, both in appearance and mannerisms.

"Aye, it would seem like it," he replied, turning back to the store.

The man was scrutinizing him from top to bottom; "Isn't it a little hot for you in that get-up?"

Perhaps this man was concerned for him, seeing him dressed in a black coat that concealed whatever he was wearing beneath it and a somewhat oversize top hat; such clothes would suffocate this poor man in the unforgivable heat of the sun.

"My good man, where I come from--" he leaned uncomfortably close to the plump man's face, staring at him from behind his round-framed glasses,

"--the heat is Hell itself,"

The plump man jumped back from his face and stared at him in disbelief; "D-devil take you!"

He laughed in reply, "Oh, he has, all right, he has."

The man watched as this mysterious man in black produced a cane from within the folds of his long coat, gave him a friendly nod, and walked towards the store. It almost seemed as though the mysterious man was gliding across the road, towards the shop "Black Heart".

Then, as though awoken from a long slumber, the plump man turned away and trudged down the road.
 
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No self respecting goth or vampire would be awake that early in the morning. Of course not. That was why it was Carmilla striding down the sidewalk towards the little shop instead of her parents. Her vampire parents. Her not really vampires but just SAYING they're vampires parents because they were THOSE kind of goths. Carmilla Lace Montgomery was the misfortune child of lunatics. They named her after a vampire lesbian, for fuck's sake! At least that's what she was thinking when she stopped for a moment to peer in to a dress shop window. Pretty, beautiful, modern day dresses... she really should be looking for something to wear to the Senior Prom and not out running errands for her parents, who insisted they couldn't go out in the daylight because they'd burn to death.

'More like a bad case of sunburn...' she grumbled in her head.

Carmilla didn't notice the man with the cane when she cut him off and entered the shop first. She was already carrying a large paper bag from her first stop at an organic herb joint. The smell of the place was a strong, familiar incense, and if Carmilla was honest with herself, she really did like a lot of the things Livia sold in her store. They were charming and unique. If only she was there to gaze at pretty Victorian lace and shiny cameo lockets, instead of looking for "vials of virgin blood" that really wasn't anything more than dyed corn syrup in over priced bottles.

"Hiiiii Livia." Carmilla muttered out in a sing-song tone, going straight for one of the back shelves to scan for the items she wanted, without even looking to see if it was even Livia there at the counter.
 
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She went by the name Pandora and responded to no other name. She was always followed by a furry black cat, not that she could help it. Sebastian is a very stubborn and intelligent cat who is more possessive than a controlling boyfriend.

She said she'll come early but it was already twenty minutes past early. There was a perpetual list of reasons but for credibility's sake, she chose to pick just one: her heel broke so she had to go home halfway just to change her shoes.

She saw a strange man in a long dark coat holding a cane just outside of a shop called "Black Heart". She peered at him, at where his face should be.

"Hello?"
 
"'s not Livia right now," Cyril said to the girl that walked in. He had seen her a couple times before, but had never known her name. "Livia's in the back, probably concocting more batches of virgin's blood or dying her hair again." Speak of the devil, Livia opened the black door that had "Employees only" in white lettering against its black paint. She had red stains on her hands, confirming Cyril's notion that she had been making more virgin's blood.

"Is the blood still fake, or is there a virgin girl back there that I didn't see?" Cyril said, slouching over the counter and toying with the various odds and ends that Livia kept on it. "If its the virgin girl, I think I might have to go on break." Smiling good-naturedly, he noticed two people standing outside the front door. The two looked like they would go here, but he didn't go talk to them. Goth guys tended to be protective of their girlfriends, and the two looked like they could be together. "Livia, how long do I have to wear this?" he asked her, frowning.

"Until I say you can take it off! You are my slave!" she shouted at him. Then, in almost a whisper, "Until we close tonight."

By then, he had recognized that Pandora was one of the people standing outside. She was late...again. Sighing, he pointed her out to Livia, who smiled, glad that it wasn't just Cyril and her now. "Get in here, Pandoraaa!" she called, her voice reaching through the partly cracked front door.
 
He stood there, facing the door of the shop. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts wandered off to the main reason for him coming here, not even realising that someone had walked past him and into the store. Yes, he replied to the questions in his mind, I need several things from this shop. If anything, it would help to bring some form of high fashion to the beings he will be returning to, get them out of those useless greasy somethings that they wear.

And that odour, goodn--

His thoughts were interrupted by a female voice from his side.

"Hm, yes?"

He turned to see a girl, peering at him. If it were not for his oversized hat, she would have seen that perpetual smirk on his face as he looked at her. But before he could say anything to her, he heard a very loud call from inside the store; they were probably calling for her.

A chuckle escaped his lips; "Perhaps you should make your way in. They seem to be expecting you,"

Without waiting for a reply, he went ahead to push the door into the store.

"Pardon my intrusion," he said, stepping inside the 'Black Heart', "I am called Razakel." He went ahead and removed his long coat, revealing the proper attire he wore underneath it.
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Seeing as there were several places he could hang it, he went ahead and hung it on the doorknob of the store rather nonchalantly. Smiling, he continued; "I don't suppose you sell canes here, do you?"
 
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Pandora simply gazed at the towering man. With her lifeless demeanor, it's hard to tell if she was sleepy of tired. Or if the sun was hurting her eyes with how she gaped and squinted at him. Either way, she looked up to him with a question on her face. Sebastian leered at the man from her heels.

"He-" she began in reply to the man but she was cut off by the sound of her name.

"Get in here, Pandoraaa!" Sebastian hissed in reply to Livia's call, being the snarky cat that he is.

"Perhaps you should make your way in. They seem to be expecting you." the man said with a chuckle and walked in. She followed him with Sebastian cautiously watching the man.

Pandora bowed to Livia and Cyril. "My shoe broke. Sorry." she said, her voice was pretty soft, almost a careful whispering of a secret. Without bothering to see if they heard her, she took the mysterious man's cloak and cane, hanging it where it should be and proceeded to Livia. "Is there something special I must do today?"

Perhaps it's her efficiency that kept her from being fired. Though she arrived late everyday with a different excuse almost daily, she got right down to business, having no qualms whatsoever and doing exactly as told. Punctuality is probably the only thing required of her that she can't quite fulfill. Her sleepy behavior could pretty much be a means to conserve energy; she worked until she is instructed to go home. Robotic could describe her but not too accurately, for she ran on a clockwork heart with her winding key hanging from a chain around her waist.

She was once human, ten years ago until she died. Sebastian was once human, until he was punished for bringing back a soul that should be resting.
 
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So it wasn't Livia as Carmilla was quick to find out when instead of the woman's chirpy tone she was greeted with something distinctly boy. Carmilla remained silent, just peering over her should curiously when he went on to chat with Livia about the virgin blood and when he could change his clothes. Once or twice she had seen him before. His name was Cypress or Cereal or something like that. And even though Carmilla was not in to the whole gothy steampunk scene, there was something to be admired about those long Victorian era coats. They always made a guy look really distinguished, and just a little bit foxy.

The shop door opened again and Carmilla put her attention back on the shelves. Pandora could never be forgotten, if only because Carmilla thought there was something seriously weird about that girl. There was wannabe vampire weird, and screaming at homeless people weird, and then there was... red herring in a horror movie weird. Carmilla always thought Pandora looked like one of those creepy life-like dolls in horror flicks, and she just had no idea why!

Finding what she was looking for, Carmilla plucked a couple of the vials and turned to head to the checkout counter. For a split second she paused mid-walk. Staring at the other shop guest with his peculiar clothes, and strange greeting before she shook herself out of her spell and quickly rushed over to the counter.

"Um, just these today. Although mom was saying something about pre-ordering batwings or some nonsense like that?" she muttered softly at Livia... or Cereal, 'What IS his name? Haven't I heard it at least once? Stupid...', as she set everything down. Briefly she took a glance over her shoulder again at the strangely dressed man. This shop really was a magnet for weirdos. No wonder her parents loved it.
 
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Might've been a good idea Livia made me wear this, Cyril thought as he glimpsed the man who called himself Razakel. Goths tended to adopt names, and something like Razakel sounded like something a hippy or tribal guy would use, not this guy, who looked like he and Cyril had shared a wardrobe that day. As he questioned him about the cane, Cyril was tempted to just give him the one Livia made him take, but since she was watching he simply let her handle it while he turned his attention to the girl, who had the things she was buying.

"Yeah, uh, I think that Livia's been thinking about something like that for a while. It'd probably be cleverly dyed beef jerky or something, but she's dead set on making them," Cyril told her as he rang up the vials of virgin's blood she was buying. Livia always insisted that she hand make all the magical items she sold, even if it was impossible or illegal to make it with real materials. Even her jars of crushed elephant's tusk, which was salt, sugar, and flour mixed and dyed an off-white, she made herself, and every week or so a health inspector or police officer would come to make sure nothing was made of real animals or people.

"Do-d'you want it wrapped or something? For your parents? Oh, and it's fifteen solid."

"Can you restock today, Pandora?" Livia asked, pointing towards a couple of empty-looking shelves before walking towards the odd man who had come in with her. "We do carry canes," she told him, grinning politely. "We have some that are just in, if you would like to look to those, or if you're willing to wait, I can get you a custom one made, that's fitted to your height and stuff. We can also put a sword in it, too, if you're into that kinda thing. Cyril," she shouted at her employee. "Show the man your cane! Twist the top off!"

As he held up the cane, an annoyed look on his face, he twisted the jeweled top. Surprisingly, it twisted, and he was able to pull out a short, thin sword from it. "That's real steel, too. I think I gave him a blunted edge, but it'll hurt nonetheless. If you're going for a sword, I can get you one with a blade."
 
Pandora blinked as if taking in the instructions. "Restock." she repeated with an understanding nod. "Restock." she said again, disappearing behind the shelves into the stockroom.

She came back with a pile of five boxes, surprisingly carried and balanced easily. She put them down, and opening the topmost box using her nails. She took out a small feather duster from her apron pocket and cleaned the shelf with brisk, untiring strokes. She took out each item and laid them in the exact arrangement they were in during the last time she restocked. Sebastian pushed the box away once it was emptied.

"Restocking." she said to no one in particular.
 
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Beef jerky bat wings. That sounded about right. Carmilla had to hand it to Livia, she really was creative when making some of her shop items. Carmilla wasn't much of a crafty person.

"Fifteen..." came her mumbled reply, followed by a quick shake of her head about needed it wrapped. Jostling her other shopping bag in to one arm, Carmilla fumbled in to her pants pocket with her free hand. There was a quick catch and a hiss when she nearly dropped her change on the floor, but her recovery was fast and she was setting three fives on the counter and pushing it towards him.

Though she was itching to get going, especially when she heard the door jingle open again, Carmilla stood there patiently waiting. Only for a moment giving both Cyril (Ah HA! That was his name! ....what a weird name.) and the cane a dumbfounded look while he showed it off to the fancy-dressed customer. 'Why would anyone need a sword in a cane. That's just crazy.' The thought she kept to herself, but she did clear her throat to remind him she was there and waiting.

The shop was getting oddly crowded for so early in the morning. The quicker she got out of there, the better.
 
Aryn didn't really fit in anywhere. He would be, to all outsiders, a goth, because of his dark clothes and the eyeliner he wore lightly on his bottom lids. But his clothing wasn't outlandish, nor was his makeup all that noticeable. He never showed emotion to anyone he didn't know, which just so happened to be everyone. Aryn was a secluded boy.​
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His parents, on the other hand, drove him insane. They were loud and raucous "goths", as they liked to call themselves, but they only used that as an excuse to throw loud parties and do drugs. He sighed. What did they want again? he wondered idly as he walked down the sidewalk, sunglasses obscuring the odd color of his eyes, a deep purple color that was extremely rare to see as a natural eye color.​
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Aryn walked into the store called Black Heart, his sunglasses remaining on his face. His hair was medium long, with tips dyed red. He brushed his bangs away almost impatiently as he approached the front desk. "Excuse me," he said, his British accent clashing with the atmosphere of the room. "My parents would like some..." he wrinkled his nose. "Pickled eyes, I believe my mum said."​
 
"Sorry," Cyril told the girl as she cleared her throat. "With Livia, if I don't respond immediately, it's a slight on her pride or something...She would've probably come over here to demonstrate the edge of the sword on me if I hadn't done anything." Shaking his head, a slight smile on his face, he took her money, opening the register as he printed her receipt. Putting the vials into a black bag with the Black Heart logo on it, he slid it over the counter towards her, making his smile wider before saying, "Have a nice day. Sorry I took a while..."

Seeing someone else come into the store, Livia smiled before turning her attention to him. "Hello!" she called over to him, waving. "Don't bother with Cyril, he doesn't know anything," she said in a mildly teasing tone. It was all in good humor though, and her employee sent her a grin that said, "Watch your back, I have jokes, too."

"Pickled eyes, was it?" Livia asked as she approached him after dealing with Razakel. "They should be over there, by the magic section."
 
"Thanks." Another short and curt response from Carmilla. She was busy imagining Livia darting across the shop floor, sliding out a cane sword and attempting to stab him through the back in the blink of an eye. There'd be a duel, of course. He was dressed like some old timey gentleman. It'd be flashy with all sorts of quips back and forth.

Her standing there daydreaming while he was smiling politely took longer than a few seconds. An awkwardly too long moment that could have been misconstrued as her being infatuated with his smile, as that seemed to be where her eyes were focused when she zoned out. It took the arrival of another customer, the guy with the red tipped hair and the eyeliner, to return her to reality. Once again that inconvenienced frown was on her face. And though it was completely unfair on her part, Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes and think to herself 'Ugh, another lame goth kid.'

Carmilla plucked the bag off the counter, muttering a second thanks as she eased around the new guy towards the exit. She made sure to give the other customers a wide berth, and much like she had been drowning in in the sea, once she stepped out of the shop she was sighing a deep breath of relief. Carmilla would never admit to any sort of social anxiety, or to being an introvert. But finally being back outside in the soft glow of the morning and away from a room of people felt so much better. With a brisk walk she started down the sidewalk on her way to her next destination.
 
"No self respecting goth or vampire would be awake that early in the morning." - Carmilla Lace Montgomery

Carmilla was not the only one hurrying down the street on which Black Heart Clothing was situated. Wolfram Morgenstern was also making his way home after a very late night, the collar of his long black jacket pulled up over his head as he darted between patches of shade and he squinted against the light of the mid-morning sun. He wasn't normally out and about at this time of day, but things had ended up getting a little... dicey... over the course of the evening.

Unfortunately, all of these factors- the collar, the rushing, the sun- meant that watching where he was going was a little more difficult than usual.

Thud! Crash! Wolfram knocked almost headlong into another pedestrian, sending whatever the girl was carrying careening down to the pavement. The sound of shattering glass confirmed that the shopping bags hadn't been holding something sturdy enough to survive the fall. Wolfram groaned inwardly.

"I'm sorry," he hastily told the hapless victim of his impaired sight, ducking down at once to help pick it back up. Maybe it could still be salvaged, he hoped. "Terribly sorry."

His hands met something sticky, and he paused, inspecting the vibrant red liquid oozing down his index finger. He raised it to his lips and sucked it clean, nostrils flaring, and immediately grimaced. No, it was definitely not blood.

"Corn syrup?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked up at Carmilla from his crouched position, his coat tails fanning out behind him on the ground. He couldn't quite help but sound a little bit offended.
 
"Oh, Nice!" Whether the sarcastic statement was about her own lack of ability to watch where she was going, or the fact he smashed in to her hard enough to make her drop both her bags, was unclear. Carmilla herself was busy snatching up packets of ground spices and wrapped bundles of herbs to drop in to the larger sack. With that managed, the very scowly girl was kneeling to snatch up the bag from Black Heart - and her expression at the now syrup-stained bag was completely crest-fallen.

"This is great, now I've got to back there. Unless YOU have a couple vials of virgin blood." After taking the bag and making sure any scattered, broken bits were in there and not all over the street, Carmilla finally looked up at her assailant. The long coat and flipped collar... really the only thing he was missing was eyeliner and some fangs. Why was EVERY weirdo in town out this morning?

Of course she was making assumptions, and she immediately realized it. "I'm sorry, I'm just having a really weird morning." she muttered quickly, rising back to her feet and once again jostling the larger bag back in to her arms. This time keeping a much tighter grip on it. "Don't worry about it, I've got it. The shop is right there, anyway."

 
"No," Wolfram told her, straightening and holding up his hand in protest. "I was at fault. Let me pay for the replacements."

He glanced at the Black Heart storefront, then back at the girl in front of him. She certainly didn't look like one of Livia's usual devotees in the beige turtleneck that hid the entire line of her throat, and the off-white jacket worn over top of it. Wolfram himself was a frequent late-night customer of the shop, stopping in now and then to refurbish his wardrobe from her wares or to mingle with the other patrons. Had he ever seen her there before? Perhaps she dressed in a different style now and then? ...No, he didn't think so.

He could feel the sun beating down on him from overhead as they stood in the street.

"I insist," he pressed on, offering his arm as he started towards the shop door. He wouldn't be offended if she didn't take it, but he was a bit old-fashioned and habits died hard. "I could use the shade and the air conditioning, anyway. I get heatstroke very easily. So you're doing me a favor, if you think of it that way."
 
"You insist." Carmilla repeated. Her expression was an odd cross between bewilderment and wry amusement. Was he seriously offering her an arm and going to escort her? What year did he think this was? She considered just blowing him off. Black Heart was crowded with people and she had JUST managed to get out of there with her personal space bubble still intact. Of course, then he brought up heatstroke and some dumb sympathetic part of her was eying his pale face and feeling sorry for the guy, despite the fact he ran in to her.

"Okaaaaay." The word was a breathy huff. She HAD to get those stupid vials for her parents, and Carmilla was officially out of cash. There was no way she was dipping in to her Prom Dress money.

Taking his arm was completely on a whim. Later she'd wonder if she did it because it amused her, or simply because it gave her someone to use as a human shield from a bunch of weirdos. Either way, her arm curled around his with her fingers gently holding on to the sleeve of his coat. While she tried desperately not to look embarrassed or annoyed about having to return inside the shop after leaving it two minutes prior.

 
"Thanks," Aryn muttered, and walked down the aisles to look for the magic section. He took off his sunglasses in order to see better, and hoped no one looked him in the eyes. He found the aisle he'd been searching for, and raised an eyebrow as he examined the items for sale. Freaking weird... he thought as he found the 'eyeballs' between pig snouts and what looked to be fingers.

He approached the counter, and placed the jar on the counter. The girl was still there. "How much do these cost?" he asked her, and realized he'd forgotten to put on his sunglasses, judging from the look of surprise in her eyes ad they made eye contact. "My mistake," he mumbled, shoving the sunglasses back onto his face. He could be called handsome, this his sharp, angular jaw and cheekbones, his naturally long eyelashes that framed his eyes, his prominent nose.
Aryn was lean, but not oddly skinny, as he exercised regularly, another apparently odd quirk that made him stick out.

He twisted his onyx ring idly, revealing a small tattoo under his pointer finger. It was shown only a moment, then he put his hands into his pockets after again brushing back his hair from his eyes.
 
"Blades are dangerous." Pandora said without stopping her task. Sebastian hissed at the man who called himself Razakel.

As she moved to restock the magic section, she heard a request for pickled eyes. The keyword clicked in her mind; she was holding a jar of the said item. Her head snapped to the direction of the counter and her body followed carefully. She walked up to the boy and handed him the small glass jar. "Pickled eyes." she said in her soft voice. Then walked off in her measured little steps toward the door.

She pulled it open to let in customers. It was Carmilla again and Wolfram. It was pretty rare to see him in the morning and pretty strange that Carmilla returned. This confused Pandora and she froze on the spot, holding the door.

It was Sebastian who closed it for her. He purred and rubbed his side on her ankles, getting her attention. She turned around and made her way back to her task.

"Restocking." she said simply.
 
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