away ran the children to hide in their beds

[birdofhermes.livejournal.com]

WHO: Ilde Decima & Alucard
WHAT: trolling.
WHERE: Gutters.
WHEN: Shundi, late evening.
WARNINGS: nothing yet but will be updated as necessary. HORRORS FOREVER.

It's been a long time since Alucard's had an excuse to alter his appearance in a manner that suits any definition other than "monstrosity". Tonight the change doesn't herald three headed dogs (or any other creatures of the night, for that matter); it's a bit more subtle. His hair, generally closer cropped, seems to have grown an inch or so overnight. It is perhaps unsurprising that he pulls off the grungy hobo look so well - but that's likely due in part to the fact that his attire fails to match his otherwise unkempt state in every way imaginable.

He's had the foresight not to wear his duster, for one. The colour (deep, vibrant red) remains in the form of a button-down shirt, the sleeves uncuffed around his wrists, covering the only aspect of his "uniform" that remains; the sigil-emblazoned gloves are still right in their place.

It's the leather pants that really make him look as if he's a regular Goth Club attendee. They aren't just leather pants, either; he's gone all out in terms of adornment. The garment's lined with rows upon rows of shining silver buckles - and yes, they are silver - that look like they'd be better suited for a straight jacket than a pair of pants fresh from the millennium. The fact that, given the locale, they're practically a weapon unto themselves is not lost on him, nor on the few individuals who take notice of him making his way through the crowd. Barring that - and he notes this with some degree of amusement - it seems he fits right in amidst the significantly less particular clientele.

His thumbs remain hooked casually in his pockets as he moves, nodding the occasional greeting (though paired with his grin it's always anything but friendly) to those who do take note of him. He halts when he's managed to separate himself from the crowd at large, scanning the masses for one face in particular.

There's no question that she's beat him here. He can already smell her, after all.