@demobrat
it's a night off. no souls to feast upon. more like hex's hunger is sufficiently satisfied, heather's anything but a bad host. the music is loud and heather can feel it in her bones already. the vibrations reach the uttermost deep chasms of my essence, i enjoy it, we enjoy it. and heather decides to merrily move past that. the lights dance around as the venue sort of envelopes her. hands in her long jacket, more matrix than anything else. she gets a couple of looks, the intention behind them none of her concern, she's not here for them. as much as they bring forward the carnal and overall human pleasures of a show, she is trying to disconnect.
then. a feeling, a sensation. raising from the bottom of her spine to the back of her skull, a creature of instinct first. questions soon following after. it fades out the shrill of guitar, just slightly. i can feel it too, it is nearby. it, heather thinks, should take a break tonight. not in the mood. and the calling isn't something that respects moods. bright eyes pealed, looking around for danger until.
until her eyes land onstage. and the sensation boils, bubbles over and it's like static one second as if a radio is trying to reach the same frequency. and it does. it only does when her eyes land on the guy playing the guitar. it. hex's thinks. conveniently. we should eat him. all heather can do is say no and tilt her head. entranced, enchanted. trying to read him. everything sort of fading away. trouble, hex wants to say but heather isn't listening. she just stares and looks, and then smiles. slowly. surrounded by a sea of people. who would've known? he's here.