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: I’m 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 wasn’t with the body language, the demon’s 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 he’s 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.
“Welcome to my humble void. Ah, and what an engaging question you have me pondering, lovely.’”The demon makes a little performance of his mull, scratching a little at his head in contemplation, before he continues on to the answer.
“You’re right, in a way, but in another you’ll find I’m 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 you’re 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 don’t like to ruin the fun, so you may let this stay just between us, since it’s related to your question, but the eyes thing? Yeah, that’s just a ….naturally occurring coincidence.
Anywho~ Goth philosophy however, is a different story. I’m far more of a- I’ll call it, Vampiric Romantic. Maybe I just desperately want to see it in myself, who knows. Whatever the case: I just can’t help but be engrossed in the broken-is-beauty principles of romantic goth subculture. I find such comfort and inspiration in this… adoration of the unhealed, and the perpetually mourning. Ugh, and the expressions of these things! The books, paintings, and so on! My word, they’re just so beautiful, I get short of bre-“
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.
“Ah! Poetry too! I’ve seen some of your work. It’s wonderful! …Oh look at me what am I doing. Forgive me, I do get carried away sometimes..” After clearing his throat, and adjusting his tie, Dark swiftly drops his hands back to the desk. Then, he … simply carries on with confidence, like he didn’t just rudely point. Whoops.
“Returning to the rest of my Goth philosophy: while I am no human being, I’m not actually a vampire either, but I do share one extremely similar characteristic with each. I’m 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 aren’t effective in that sort of “feeding,” capacity. That doesn’t mean I won’t 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 I’m still not one, so unlike the vampire, I can’t 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 it’s 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 another… “craving,” comes along, of course.”
The more he explains this … “vampiric philosophy,” of his, the more little crackles sound at Dark’s 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 demon’s aura begins to distort, as his passionate little smile morphs into something…. 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.
“Oh, and it’s beautiful too. I’ve made magnificent masterpieces, you know! It’s such a shame they aren’t the type that can be admired in a gallery. Oh well, I’ll just have to keep the memories alllll to myself.~ Hah! Ahhahahah! Silly me, I’ve rambled on and on, haven’t I? I do hope I at least answered your question, lovely!”
