SMALL DEATH.

freshly disowned in some frozen devotion. MIKALA SEABROOKE. 59, he / him, tattoo artist, retired funeral director, your token town cryptid.

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile.

[ keanu reeves, male, he / him / his ] — whoa! MIKALA SEABROOKE just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for HIS ENTIRE LIFE, working as an OWNER OF ELECTRIC INK. that can’t be easy, especially at only 59 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit AMORAL and PEDANTIC , but i know them to be HARDWORKING and PERSUASIVE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (kuromi, 30, est, she / her, no triggers)

it's bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet.

ABOUT. | PHOTOS. | MUSINGS.

[abunchofbadideas-deactivated202]

Taliesin was standing outside the club, smoking, thinking about leaving. As funny as it was to him to watch Nerissa trainwreck her way through a night out, he usually tried to excuse himself once they got to the vomiting stage. And she was, in fact, vomiting, loudly, in the alley at the side of the building. Taliesin wanted nothing to do with that. He looked the man in front of him up and down, the cigarette hanging limply out of the corner of his mouth. Sure, why not. "Hope you like menthols." Taliesin did not like the way a standard cigarette made his mouth taste, but the aesthetic was everything.

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

In Mikala's eyes, this is the standard of any evening at a nightclub. To hear a person retching on the pavement as the music of the venue plays softly in the background to their miserable life in this moment. If he were so easily amused, perhaps it'd make him laugh.

It doesn't. He merely wants a cigarette, then to deem himself sober enough to drive after a couple glasses of wine and go home.

"I prefer them, actually," as he extends a weathered hand, gaze focused on Taliesin's face or, more specifically, the cigarette between his lips. "As I said, I'll buy you a drink in return."

[asa--holland]

He feels like an idiot, rambling about nothing in front of this man. And as he's snuffing his cigarette, he's expecting him to turn away. Maybe give some inspiring little tidbit and head back in.

Instead, a hand is held out for him. And Mikala wants to buy him a drink... he takes a shaky breath and a tear or two spill over with the blink of black opalescent eyes. He wipes at his face quickly with his sleeve and laughs.

"I'd... really like that, love. Thank you." Asa reaches for the hand and he hardly knows what to do with himself. Just enjoying the warmth and security of it for now as he follows him back into the club. "Just let me know if you need to um..." If you need to head out. If I'm too much. If you regret doing this. "If it's getting too late."

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

After allowing Asa time to compose himself and wipe away those tears, it's all gentle guidance as Mikala leads him into the nightclub. Back into the buzzing scene, and perhaps it's a little less overwhelming for him now, too.

"Good timing," he repeats, in reference to the music overtaking the sound system, merely a few seconds into Twilight Zone by Golden Earring. "I've been trying to get them to play better songs for half an hour—was starting to think the twenty-dollar bill I slipped to the DJ had gone to waste," he chuckles.

Only when they're seated at the bar does he release Asa's hand, flagging down the bartender. "Gin and tonic, love, and..." He motions to Asa. "Whatever he'd like."

Attention returns to the other man, and he takes a moment to eye him, now under neon lights. Take in the handsome features, a boyish charm, illuminated by fluorescence.

"Have any plans for a new tattoo?"

[asa--holland]

That's a good question. Is it good or bad timing, exactly? That Mikala has shown up when Asa's in the middle of zoning out, in the middle of overwhelming grief at the loss of... being able to be one of those normal folks dancing around and having fun.

But he watches Mikala for a moment, those dark eyes. The softest smile.

"...Good timing." He murmurs, as fingers linger against his palm while Asa takes back the lighter. He took the cigarette from his own lips, and blew out the smoke to the side, watching it curl up into the black night sky. Then: "Because I get too..." He makes a motion at his own head. At the burn scar at his temple. "Overwhelmed? In my own head? And I don't know what to do." A chuckle at his own expense, but there's pain behind it. His eyes are glossy again.

"So I stand in the corner. And I feel I just... like I look like..." He shakes his head. Why's he even bothering saying all this? Why would his tattoo artist care about this shit? "...Sorry, darling. I didn't need to just. Throw that all at you."

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

Good timing. What a relief that is—that his craving for nicotine has landed him in the right time and place after all, and with better company than majority of the club goers inside of Retro.

Quiet again, though no less attentive, even as his focus seems to shift to his cigarette. Mikala's gaze softens while he listens to Asa, and eventually his eyes find the other's, noting that crystalline shine that the soft lighting seems to catch. It's alluring, if nothing else.

Plucking his cigarette from his lips, he exhales the smoke in another sigh, before he speaks—

"You're fine, Asa. You're allowed to exist and, if you need someone to chat with, I'll lend an ear." Sincere reassurance, taken further with a gentle murmur. A final drag, then he snuffs his cigarette out on the sole of his boot. "Let me buy you a drink."

With that, he's outstretching his hand in offer, to right the wrongs of the evening; motioning towards the entrance of the club with a slight movement of his head.

[lovemetopieces]

Although she'd been invited out to Retro with some friends and usually had a good time out dancing with them, Alejandra just couldn't get in the mood today. She found herself hovering over near the wall most of the night and had decided to call it quits. Her mind was elsewhere and not in a good place for clubbing. Standing outside of the club, Alejandra was trying to decide if she was going to take the subway or call a ride home when a man walked up to her asking for a cigarette. "Sorry," she said, looking up at the man. His face looked oddly familiar but she wasn't sure where she knew him from. "I don't smoke cigarettes..." She was staring at him now, trying to rack her brain on where she knew him from. "Sorry," she said again. "It's just, you look really familiar. I just can't figure out where I might know you from. Do you know me?"

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

Mikala knows there's a relatively high probability that he'd end up asking someone who either wouldn't spare him a cigarette, or didn't smoke to begin with. As such, he's not necessarily bothered by the rejection, merely offering a shrug and a curt nod, "No worries, love. It's for the best that you don't."

Then, there's the matter of him looking familiar. A tilt of his head, with a lengthy pause to follow. There are a few reasons why his face may be recognizable, and half of them he isn't keen on admitting to.

"No." Simple, straight to the point, because he isn't the type to assume. "Perhaps you've merely seen a face similar to mine before."

[asa--holland]

An old man? Mikala somehow looks ageless to Asa. A classic handsome that he couldn't put a specific date or age on if he tried. But still, as he hands off the cigarette, he murmurs, "Of course. Mikala, then."

And of course, the other must've caught Asa at the very end, before he'd steeled himself from those lonely, sad, miserable feelings. He could play it off as nothing, but... smoke releases from behind his teeth as he holds out his hand for the lighter back.

"Just don't think this kind of place is my scene, I suppose. Got a bit overwhelmed in there." He explains gently. "Was about to head home when you popped up."

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

A nod of approval, Mikala leans against the brick behind him in momentary rest, a sigh heaving past his lips and disguised as an exhalation of smoke. Eyes that appear nearly black under such minimal lighting flicker from the lighter, then to Asa's hand. Brief contemplation.

"Good or bad timing?"

He concedes, outstretching his own hand to place the lighter back into the other man's possession, though not without brushing his fingers along his palm. A purposefully slow trail to his fingertips, then he's returned to his own little bubble.

"Me popping up," he clarifies, because he knows that for many, his presence is not a welcomed one. "Why do you believe this isn't your scene?"

[ashwin-blythe]

Sometimes, people walk into the hotel and Ashwin can pin a hypothetic life on them. He can daydream about what kind of person they are- what they're doing in New York City, what they do. The person he's invited to come sit with him is harder to peg. A darker aesthetic, an interesting look. Someone who gives a vivid mysteriousness Ash enjoys.

And he gets the same drink, too. Deep red wine, like Ash. His warm gaze focuses on him and he gives a soft nod. "They... are. Fr...Freddie is the... newest." He points to the smallest, who's tucked up against one of the bigger corgis. "I r...run a... tight sh-ship." He explains, and holds out a broad hand to the man. "...Ash."

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

Ever the quiet and attentive type, Mikala merely listens to Ashwin; the distinct quality of his voice, the cadence of his speech. Attention shifts only briefly when the glasses of wine are placed on the bartop, and he reaches for his own, sipping and savoring the merlot.

Eyes go from the aforementioned corgi to Ashwin again, head tilting slightly, "Freddie? That's... charming." A little smile, though it's anyone's guess if it's in regards to the dog or the other's introduction.

"Mikala, love," as he reaches his own hand out to shake Ash's. "Why so many?" And that same hand is now vaguely motioning towards the four dogs, though he's mindful to not take a judgmental tone.

[ballpitwitch]

John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017)

[asa--holland]

Asa's been trying to get out more. Jack's encouraged him to get a taste of club life, to dance, to live a bit more. The librarian spends so much time between stacks of old musty books, organizing and re-organizing... so he's gone out, alone. But it's felt more overwhelming than anything. Overwhelming and lonely. So when he's stepped out into the alley to the side of the club, he's lighting up a cigarette and debating going home. His eyes are a bit glassy as he yet again wonders if maybe it's best for him to not bother with this type of thing. Stay inside...

Then he recognizes Mikala - tattoo artist he's been to a few too many times, a face at the library... Asa shakes his head and tucks a bit of messy dark hair back. "Oh... no. No trouble, Mr. Seabrooke. Here." He clears his throat, blinks himself back to the present. Takes out a cigarette to hold out for Mikala, then the lighter.

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

A familiar face it is, then, and one he rather enjoys seeing—at Electric Ink or the library, and now by happenstance. There's the flash of a smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It rarely does.

"You don't have to call me that, darling," he shakes his head. "It makes me feel like an old man," and the tone he takes is teasing now, softened further by a wink, as he accepts the cigarette and lighter.

There's temptation to pocket the lighter for himself, and perhaps that's why it remains in his grasp even after he lights his gifted cigarette, igniting a conversation the same way he had the flame—

"You have a strange look in your eyes." It had been the first thing he noticed, and he sounds more conversational than anything. "Are you keeping well, Asa?"

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

OPEN STARTER FOR: Anyone and everyone | @bhqextras WHERE | WHEN: Outside of Retro, late night.

"Pardon me, love, I hate to trouble you—" Except that's not true. "But, do you have a cigarette you can spare?" For how often Mikala finds himself with a cigarette between his lips, he seldom carries a pack of his own, preferring to bum them from a stranger or familiar face. "I'll buy you a drink as thanks," he offers, as if to sweeten the deal.

[ashwin-blythe]

OPEN STARTER @bhqextras Where: the Bowery Hotel, at night??

The lobby's a truly cozy place, and many end up walking through it on their way to the hotel bar and the adjoining restaurant- all of which are open to the public, regardless if they're staying for a night in the upscale accommodations or not. And the owner, Ashwin, is always a presence, behind the check-in counter, or sitting somewhere amongst the little bistro tables or at the bar.

His corgis, all four of them, are out as well. Well behaved and relaxing as Ash settles into a chair in the almost empty bar space, catching the eye of someone else there. He's fixing his jacket and gives a small nod, eyeing the seat across from him in an indication that the other can come sit with him, if they want. Then, he motions to the bartender. "Wh...whatever they... want. And... merlot. Please."

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

There is no logical reason for Mikala to be at a hotel, when he has a perfectly fine home that's costing him an arm and a leg to pay off, however he's found himself at one regardless. Perhaps he enjoys hotel bars more than standalone businesses, finding them to be a little more peaceful. Quiet.

He doesn't expect there to be dogs—four of them, to be specific—and he's eyeing them with a curiosity. Inevitably, he catches the eye of their owner and he merely returns the curt nod. It would be rude, wouldn't it, if he ignored the invitation?

So, he takes a seat next to the man.

"Merlot as well," comes his gentle murmur. Dark eyes flitter from the corgis once more, then back to Ashwin, "I would say you have your hands full but they appear to be quite behaved." Better than most, he wants to say.

[lovemetopieces]

Scream Queens with Technicolor Theater | Open @bhqextras

Although Eleanor wasn't a big fan of horror movies, she found herself at Technicolor Theater's Scream Day celebration. She had been invited by one of her friends to watch The Silence of the Lambs, a classic, that was being shown on the outdoor screen. After grabbing some popcorn, Eleanor roamed the lawn for a good place to lay out her blanket and sit. She came across someone sitting alone and approached them. "Hey," she smiled softly. "Is someone sitting over here by you?"

[mikalaseabrookearchive]

It's rare that Mikala finds himself going out to see a film these days, when streaming services are rampant and he grows less social by the day. Still, a change in scenery is welcomed, particularly when he catches word of a reshowing of The Silence of the Lambs. He thinks, hopes, that he's far enough away from the crowd with his own blanket when—

"No," and he nearly says yes, a harmless white lie. "No one is sitting by me." So, he motions with his hand towards an unclaimed spot of grass. He slips the bookmark into the book he had brought with him to read while he waited for the movie to begin, then sets it aside.

"I take it you're not much for crowds, either?" Given his somewhat distant seating on the lawn.