|Senri Mao (bigmaoth) wrote in repose,|
@ 2018-05-02 14:23:00
Ah, warm spring evenings were meant to be gone out in and enjoyed. So many smells on the breeze, things waking up, coming to life, and dead things spoiled and wet, free from the winter ice that kept rot at bay. Normally, Mao would have set off for the Capital to prowl the clubs, but after the close call he had the last time he let himself get shitfaced, he decided to maybe play it safe for a bit. He kept to Repose, kept sober, and stuck to his usual haunt; the old cemetery off of Main Street. He didn’t need to be at a party to dance, and all those crumbling bones a few feet below the surface energized him as much as any sugary cocktail.
The sun was beginning to set and Mao had just arrived. He liked to first patrol his territory by climbing the stone wall that surrounded it and walking along the top around the perimeter. Being short could kind of give a guy a need for a higher perspective once in a while, y’know? He didn’t just walk, but half strutted, half danced, getting warmed up for his party of one among the tombstones. The little speakers of his headphones vibrated with the effort of blasting one of his mother’s favorite songs. An oldie but a goodie, his mother had been just a girl when it came out. He sang along now and then, little snatches of rusty japanese.
The good weather meant other people were out and about. Of course, Mao didn’t give a fuck about what anyone might think of his disrespectful behavior. He couldn’t quite ignore those he passed, though. He found himself wondering if any of these normal looking strangers could be one of those anonymous people he spoke with online, one of the secret monsters who condoned cannibalism and spoke of knowing demons. How was it that there seemed to be so many, yet he hadn’t met a single one? It wasn’t fair. He felt, at the very least, he should be able to sense something, a vague feeling of kinship or an aura of otherness. Maybe he just wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe he needed to pay a little more attention…
Wetting his lip with a swipe of his tongue, he eyed a figure up ahead but carried on with his prancing and bursts of broken song, pretending to be oblivious.