FAEVERSE | thread ☇ a change in the air
There wasn't a clock in this dim little lounge, because it was a place to party, drink, and jam with the music and no one wanted to be reminded of mundane responsibilities like getting home at a decent hour. He flicked a beer bottle cap off of the bar top and watched it skitter across the dirty floor, which only a few hours ago had been packed with sweaty bodies in tight clothes, grinding against each other to the tune an ear-rupturing bass. It had been a good show, but it was over now. The shows always came to an end, the music always stopped, and the people always went home.
Except him.
The rest of the band members took home their lovely little prizes for the night: the ones in fishnets, the ones with multicolored hair extensions, and the ones with the fake IDs who were going to have to call in sick from school tomorrow and hide from their parents. Puck was never sure what his bandmates told anyone when he always stayed behind and didn't have a pair of simpering, sexy adornments who couldn't wait to show him how much they loved his music, how amazing he was, how he'd changed their lives with his latest song. He frankly didn't care what excuses they gave, as long as they all left and left him alone.
They were, after all, just mortals. Just a handful out of six billion, or whatever disgusting number they'd reached this century. They had their uses, and he'd be lying to say that he didn't enjoy the occasional dalliance himself... but he preferred them looking up at him on stage, their adoration a tangible force, because it meant they thought they were less than he was and that was, he believed, the way it was supposed to be.
Puck was seriously considering hopping the bar and seeing if he could find an unopened bottle of something when a tingle of feeling electrified him, leaving him rooted to the spot. It had been so very, very long since... but was it real? Or just a figment?
"Who's there?!"
Except him.
The rest of the band members took home their lovely little prizes for the night: the ones in fishnets, the ones with multicolored hair extensions, and the ones with the fake IDs who were going to have to call in sick from school tomorrow and hide from their parents. Puck was never sure what his bandmates told anyone when he always stayed behind and didn't have a pair of simpering, sexy adornments who couldn't wait to show him how much they loved his music, how amazing he was, how he'd changed their lives with his latest song. He frankly didn't care what excuses they gave, as long as they all left and left him alone.
They were, after all, just mortals. Just a handful out of six billion, or whatever disgusting number they'd reached this century. They had their uses, and he'd be lying to say that he didn't enjoy the occasional dalliance himself... but he preferred them looking up at him on stage, their adoration a tangible force, because it meant they thought they were less than he was and that was, he believed, the way it was supposed to be.
Puck was seriously considering hopping the bar and seeing if he could find an unopened bottle of something when a tingle of feeling electrified him, leaving him rooted to the spot. It had been so very, very long since... but was it real? Or just a figment?
"Who's there?!"