LOG! WHO: Victor Lowe and Mordred. WHAT: Victor propositions Mordred... WHERE: Corvus, the goth club in District 0. WHEN: Night of Wednesday, June 30, 2029. RATING: PG, maybe PG-13?
Corvus was District 0's premier (and only) throwback goth club and as such, one would usually find Mordred there on any given night of the week. It wasn't a hugely popular place, but that was fine with him. He knew all of the regulars and in fact, they were mostly the closest things to friends he had. It was pretty much home away from home for him.
So Mordred sat, lounging among black leather cushions and red crushed velvet pillows, much like his own outfit and mused on things while he sipped on a rum and coke. Despite the club being known for their absinthe, Mordred couldn't stomach the stuff, even when they were discounted as they were tonight. Everyone else seemed to be drinking it though and he felt a little out of place. Perhaps later, he thought and began to muse on other things, like the futility of existence.
But speaking of out of place, when he looked up and around the club, he noticed someone else that didn't seem to quite fit in with the crowd. How curious! He couldn't help staring at the stranger.
Victor had only ventured to Corvus once before, by accident. He had been really, really drunk a few months ago, maybe back in January, and had somehow stumbled into the goth club and then immediately turned around and gotten out of there. However, that incident had planted a little seed in his mind - quite frankly, those people were weird. And who didn't the viewing public love more than weird people who were weird in that kitschy way (instead of the creepy way)? No one, that's who! And so Victor had set his mind on documenting the lives of these weird goths. He had tried to dress to fit in but had thrown away his leather pants a few weeks ago, so was stuck with a black t-shirt with some ironic phrasing and a pair of slightly tattered skinny jeans. As soon as he entered the club he made a mental note to invest in more crushed velvet if he was actually going to do this project.
He ordered some absinthe from the bar (they were having a special!) and tried to look casual as he looked around for someone who looked like they worked here. He noticed a man sitting by himself on the black leather couches (seriously? black leather and red crushed velvet? If Victor wasn't sure these people took themselves seriously he'd have to praise them on their commitment to the setting) and decided he would be the one. Victor casually strolled over to the man and sat on the other end of the couch, setting down his drink and propping his feet up on the table in front of him. "Good crowd tonight," he said, looking around as though he knew the place.
Mordred continued to stare at the stranger until he realized that the new person was intent on sitting next to him. Then Mordred looked away -- up at the ceiling, down at the floor, and to the wall nearest him, which had some very intestine artwork and gargoyles. Mordred wasn't fond of strangers. They were unpredictable.
"Mmm," Mordred replied noncommittally, but his expression clearly stated that he didn't quite agree. He didn't want to be unfriendly, though. It wasn't a bad crowd, and it wasn't a particularly good one, either. Mordred had spent the earlier part of his night glaring at two much younger girls, one of whom was wearing a vintage Hot Topic Edward Cullen t-shirt. How disgraceful!
"I haven't seen you here before," he finally said, with a hint of moroseness in his voice. His tone of voice was just as much an accessory as his black Doc Martens, he always thought and it was hard work to maintain it. And this stranger definitely did not sound melancholy enough for Corvus.
Victor realized that this was going to be harder than he thought. To be honest, he wasn't really used to going 'into the field' to do his film projects - he mostly documented the things and people that he already knew, but this was going to be his first big step into revolutionary, ground-breaking film making. "That's because this is my first time," Victor said. He noted how sad the other dude sounded, and wondered if it was an act, if he was really that depressed, or if it was all a part of this elaborate goth setup. Ooh, that would be another thing he could explore in his film - goth culture: real anguish or pretentious foreigners looking to get away with wearing bondage pants?
He reached into his pocket, having to sit up a little as he did so because his pants were so tight, and then settled back against the couch while holding out the business card that he had just produced. "I'm Victor. I'm a filmmaker. Well, an aspiring filmmaker really, but who bothers with labels anymore? This place really caught my eye. I have a nose for good stories." He tapped his nose to prove his point and smiled.
"Stories?" Mordred echoed. He liked stories, especially ones written by Poe and Lovecraft, but this guy didn't seem anything like either. Lovecraft would never have worn jeans that skinny, for one! "I doubt most of these people would make for very interesting stories," he thought aloud, not trying to be mean, but genuinely convinced it was true. Mordred, however, found himself highly interesting. Who wouldn't? But why had Corvus caught Victor's eye and why Mordred in particular? Mordred found himself curious again.
"What sort of story are you interested in telling? And why film? I've always found the written word to be much more stimulating," he said.
Oh great, he was one of those literary nerds. The written word had always bored Victor, especially when used in conjunction with words like 'stimulating.' "Yeah, well, it's the twenty-first century. People don't read anymore. They want visuals." As for what kind of story he wanted to tell...well, Victor couldn't exactly say that he wanted to make a poke fun at extreme fringe cultures while simultaneously using the manufactured depression of goth culture as a lens for viewing post-11/17 society at large all while paying homage to some of his favorite documentarians and independent filmmakers, now could he. And so, Victor said the first thing that came to his mind.
"I want to tell a story about you." He had meant for it to be a vague you, sort of like the royal we, but he made the mistake of looking directly at Mordred when he said it. Only he didn't realize until it was too late, and so he was stuck sitting there with a stupid smile on his face and a potential documentary on his hands, provided Mordred would agree to something like being filmed.
Mordred was getting a very strange vibe off of Victor. Of course it didn't help that Victor had wounded Mordred to the core with his criticisms of literature. He didn't care if it was the twenty-first century. In fact, he found it to be a big problem. Mordred always wished he'd been born before films were ever made. The Victorian era always seemed quite nice. People had no imagination nowadays and Mordred blamed film, in part. Of course, there were movies Mordred greatly enjoyed, so it was completely hypocritical of him, but never mind that.
"Why me? I'm sure I'd make a very good story and everything, but what do you know about me?" he couldn't help asking. He frowned (more than he was already) and thought for a second. Had someone told Victor about him? It was all getting very confusing. Not that Mordred would say no to having a film made about him, oh no, of course not. It was any attention-seeking goth's dream come true, really. But still, Mordred couldn't help being suspicious of seemingly good things.
"Because...look at you!" That was explanation enough, wasn't it? The hair, the outfit, the atmosphere of the club...it all screamed make a satirical film about me. Of course, Victor would have to convince Mordred that it was going to be a completely serious endeavor. "What I mean is, look at you. You've clearly got a story to tell. Your accent, that's -- I don't know, what is it? Swedish? Austrian? Whatever it is, you're not from here and that immediately makes you interesting. Plus, you've got great hair. I appreciate men with good hair." Victor took this moment to run his fingers through his own mop of hair, which he considered to be something worthy of great pride.
Victor thought he hadn't made a convincing enough argument yet, and thus decided to launch straight into storyboard mode. "I'm thinking it will be something of a documentary, focusing on you of course but I'll definitely have to interview some of the people here and I want the focal setting to be here at the club. Would you mind if I brought someone here to perform a few voodoo rituals on the space before I start filming? It's just this thing that I have. Um, I can't really pay you for your time, but if this gets big and you or I become famous, or e-famous, or whatever, then obviously then you'll get something, and if anything you'll...you'll....you'll inspire people like, um, people like you worldwide - East Coast-wide? to come to Corvus and...get down. Or whatever it is you do here."
"I'm from Berlin," Mordred replied, sounded somewhat offended. Swedish, really? Or Austrian? However, Mordred was intrigued by Victor's proposition. He thought for a second. It couldn't hurt could it? As long as it didn't attract a bunch of posuers to his scene. But then he'd have cred. Then he'd be like their king. King of the Goths! It had a nice ring to it. Mordred inadvertently smiled a little. Perhaps it was Victor's compliment on his hair that sealed the deal.
"Yes, alright," he said. "I mean, I'll have to ask Ed - he owns the club. But I'm sure he wouldn't mind the publicity. Can I watch the voodoo rituals?"
Did he really just agree? Oh my god! Victor had his first real, live documentary subject on his hands! He was going to have to go out and celebrate that night. But before that, he had to seal the deal. "Sure, you can watch the rituals. They're actually pretty interesting, that would make a good film by itself...anyway, great. I'll have my people call your people - " Victor didn't really have any people, but it had a nice ring to it "- and we can get the ball rolling on some preliminary shots. Mostly setup, you know, you lounging on a couch...that girl over there looking sad...stuff like that. But this is awesome!" Victor stood up and did a little impromptu dance, then reached for his drink and knocked back the rest of it. He could feel his summer starting to look up already.