Nekozawa || Second
Who: Umehito Nekozawa and somarium
Where: School Basement
Style: Whatever you'd like!
Status: Open.
Despite the vegetative chaos going outside, Nekozawa was still determined to host the first Somarium Black Magic Club. He had even skipped classes to decorate the basement for his guests. It was almost pitch-black, but the candles that were scattered all over the room gave enough light to make your way through. Stacks of books were piled in a corner, filled with gothic poetry and whatever fiction he could find that related to the occult. Red pentagrams were pained on the walls to provide adequate protection. Chairs and tables were set up, donned with dark cloth, fine tea seats brimming with warm liquid, sweets to the side of the cups.
Each table had its own purpose, aside from the tea and snacks. One had the equipment necessary to make a voodoo doll. One had a Ouija-type all set up, ready to make contact with the dead. One had tarot cards in neat little piles, enough for three people to divulge their fortune. The other tables had similar 'tools' with them, worshiping the dark arts in every way possible.
Then there was the table directly in the middle, where the Club President sat. As per the norm, he was donned in the purple cloak that hid most of his body, and his black wig covered all of his blond hair. Both elbows were propped on the table - on his left was the cat puppet Belzenef, rubbing his paws together in glee, and the same puppets were in a pile on the table. On his right, he was carefully pouring sugar into his cup of tea. In front of him was a long scroll of paper, a place for members to sign in. There were two options to sign the scroll - a regular ballpoint pen, and a tiny sowing needle, with which one would sign their name in blood.
When he heard footsteps enter, his head lifted.
"Welcome, my esteemed guest."
((OOC: forgot to mention - feel free to threadhop!))
Where: School Basement
Style: Whatever you'd like!
Status: Open.
Despite the vegetative chaos going outside, Nekozawa was still determined to host the first Somarium Black Magic Club. He had even skipped classes to decorate the basement for his guests. It was almost pitch-black, but the candles that were scattered all over the room gave enough light to make your way through. Stacks of books were piled in a corner, filled with gothic poetry and whatever fiction he could find that related to the occult. Red pentagrams were pained on the walls to provide adequate protection. Chairs and tables were set up, donned with dark cloth, fine tea seats brimming with warm liquid, sweets to the side of the cups.
Each table had its own purpose, aside from the tea and snacks. One had the equipment necessary to make a voodoo doll. One had a Ouija-type all set up, ready to make contact with the dead. One had tarot cards in neat little piles, enough for three people to divulge their fortune. The other tables had similar 'tools' with them, worshiping the dark arts in every way possible.
Then there was the table directly in the middle, where the Club President sat. As per the norm, he was donned in the purple cloak that hid most of his body, and his black wig covered all of his blond hair. Both elbows were propped on the table - on his left was the cat puppet Belzenef, rubbing his paws together in glee, and the same puppets were in a pile on the table. On his right, he was carefully pouring sugar into his cup of tea. In front of him was a long scroll of paper, a place for members to sign in. There were two options to sign the scroll - a regular ballpoint pen, and a tiny sowing needle, with which one would sign their name in blood.
When he heard footsteps enter, his head lifted.
"Welcome, my esteemed guest."
((OOC: forgot to mention - feel free to threadhop!))