As one approaches the front door, the sound of harshly flowing music produce words of hatrid that soak ones ears. If one dares to poen the large and somewhat out-of-place French doors leading inward, they are to be revealed into a vampiric studiolike building, where red drapes hang over windowless brick walls, and fine velvet couches adorn a waiting room, in which rests a glass case filled with body rings and temporary tattoo designs, Henna kits, and even a few scents of incense or one or two compact discs.

The floor is marble, and is presented in an onyx-on-ivory Harleiquin pattern, accenting a few statues or pedastuls sporting demonic gargoyles, devils, and Egyptian-style dogs. Only a few rest in on this floor by the spiral staricase, enough to just escape from being tacky and distasteful.

This place is quite odd, one thinks to themselves, nothing like its outside appearence.

Things become even more obsure as a shirtless and leather bondage clad Gothic cat-eared and tailed man apparates afront the visitor in an instant, holding a syringelike pen, a bottle of colored ink, black to be exact, and a Martini glass in his sinewy, clawlike hands.

"E'llo!" He speaks to the visitor in a brisk manner."A CUSTOMER, Eh?! Well, look 'round. . .I'll be over 'ere. . ."

--------------------
~*The Life, Logs, And Signature of Sir Ichabod DeLocke*~

Thank you for the gifts sir Patches and miss CG! Quite the idealic and accurate representations, mind you.
~+~+~
~+~WHAT?! You Say You Want Me to Pierce THAT?!? (Ichy's HomeThread)~+~
"I Have Never/Been Like This Before/Felt My Body Sinking/To The Grassy Floor/No, I Have Never/Known A Love Like This/Felt The Flaming Arrows/Of The Hunter's Kiss"