Nothing Gold
Posted on July 03, 2014 by Conifer Hague
He needed a stiff one. Immediately. He had been living in this city of the Supernatural now for almost seven years, driven out of foster home, after foster home because of what he was. He hadn't known for a long time that there were others like him out there. He had been living here for a good chunk of time, but tonight was the first time since he had first found himself in the city that he needed a drink more than he needed anything. To say he'd had a rough night was putting it VERY lightly. He didn't know what drove him into one of the most popular haunts for his kind when really, he didn't want anything to do with them at all. Maybe it was the anonymity of such a crowded blur of faces, or maybe that people didn't usually approach him.
He was a formidable looking man, with his black hair pulled harshly from his face in a tight braid to the middle of his back, and the strong, strange architecture that he had been forced to endure. He had never had FEATURES. That word was too mild: gentle even. He had always had ARCHITECTURE. His cheekbones were high cliffs cut into his face widened by the need to house a pair of long, wide, yellow-green eyes that were just slightly to wide-set. His jaw was strong and his nose was somewhat hawkish, with a good bump in the middle that he had been born with, though many thought had been broken.
He sat and ordered whiskey. Straight. He let the burn slide down his throat and into his stomach without a chaser. He ordered a double and closed his eyes against the glittering women and men, the soft lights, and the provocative music that was trying to twine itself through him.