idiosyncratic <h2ovanoss>

idiosyncratic

*New Version - Incomplete*

id·i·o·syn·crat·ic

adjective

relating to idiosyncrasy; peculiar or individual.

Strolling into the wooden door frame decorated by termite markings, Evan took in the scene before him, unfamiliar with the worn-out place. His boots made dull thuds on the ground with the occasional sound of shards of glass on the tiled floor. The place smelled of champagne and the scent of mindless chatter coming from the upper classes.

Despite being a building of integrity, people would come here and throw around empty bottles of chardonnay, staining the walls with the history of fistfights. A popular tourist attraction, but there were no tourists in this city. Only the common folk and above would come here. Those were the only people left.

Currently the sun was finding ways to peak through tattered curtains, tinting the cathedral in a more gruesome light. The only thing that made it gruesome was the reveal of how broken this place was. In the light the tables with taped legs and chairs missing backs became more obvious. The signs of trouble were riddled around every misplaced perfume bottle.

Cigarettes and perfume. That was the most expensive thing in this place. Just the scent of luxuries. The cathedral was in the worse part of the city, where the poor used to live. No one goes down those musty streets unless it was to get here. The houses lining the uneven roads were all empty; though not abandoned. Nobody would leave the light of this city by choice.

Moving around other well-dressed people, Evan found a place to sit right under one of the more functioning windows. The temptation to open it was strong, but one look at the sealed lock made that urge go away. Instead Evan focused his willpower on sitting on one of the better chairs. The best were already taken, usually occupied by the nobles.

A place of diversity, this cathedral had housed several generations of people, clear to see by how dirty the brick walls were. The only reason Evan hadn't come here yet was because of the stories. They weren't stories of murders and experiments, just the opposite. The scenario of sitting for an hour and watching a performance just didn't seem appetizing to him. His only motive for coming here was to get a personal feel of the place to appropriately critique and insult it.

Being here felt even worse than he expected, however. Hearing chuckles coming from yellow stained teeth and giggles from above the rim of shot glasses was in all fairness, cruel. The place was losing light from the sun, but candles on wooden tables made the gold watches on the nobles wrists stand out. A city of class, full of disgusting higher-ups who felt entitled enough to glare at stray dogs.

Almost as though his thoughts were read, Evan shifted his eyes to see a heavily bearded noble from the corner of the joint look right back at him. His clothes dark and ragged, jewelry shining bright on his teeth and around his neck. The redness around his eyes and prolonged stare made Evan get paranoid. He raised an eyebrow, and the bearded man scrunched his unkempt eyebrows before flashing a fake smile to the brunette halfway on his lap. Evan felt surprised the nearly broken stool could hold them both up.

With the sound of cables reeling, Evan felt a shift in the audience. People sat up straight, the gambling quieted down, and glasses could be heard being set down as men cleared their throats. A few low hushes, and a spotlight was shone down on the previously unnoticed stage. Standing two feet above the ground, the stage was small, with wooden floorboards peeking up above others.

Dirty curtains with holes in them started pulling back, the sound of stressed cables and excited chattering increasing. Through the holes Evan could see a mix of dull colours. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man lightly jogging in an over sized suit towards the stage, sticking against the wall.

As soon as he got a glimpse of the person on the stage, he wondered why he decided to come here at all. The feeling of being watched rose up his spine, and a bitter aftertaste covered his tongue. He could feel his throat tightening up, and like the others, sat up straighter. With the cough of his throat, his eyes took in the half-man on the stage.

Bruises, sunken eyes, and hair with tattered ends. The man wasn't wearing a shirt, a creative choice for showing off his modifications. Just as Evan started to take in the metal, the lanky man in the oversized suit stood in front of him. With a heavy breath, the man put an obnoxious smile on his face, grey mustache framing his mouth and moving with it. A wild look in his eyes, eyebrows drew high. Evan resisted the urge to cover his ears.

"Hello! Welcome to tonight's show!" The announcers voice was bouncing off of the walls, shaking Evan down to his core.

"I'm sure everyone is doing fine tonight!" The announcer leaned forward, eyes squinting and fists clenching.

"Right?"

Satisfied with the whistles and cheers he got from the audience, he straightened back up, eyes going wide again, taking in another breath. Evan got the feeling that there wasn't any other option.

"Tonight," the announcer declared, walking around the stage, floor creaking below him. Evan caught another glimpse of the man next to him. His jeans had holes on the knees, and only went halfway down his legs. "I have the honour of showcasing the newest model, made by Duke Ellington and his associates."

With a wave of his hand, the spotlight switched to a guy at the back of the audience. Wrinkles on his forehead and scrunched up nose, Evan could physically see the amount of effort it took the burly man to smile. The men around him rose up shot glasses, Duke raising his as well, taking the shot down immediately and asking for another.

Turning back in his seat, he managed to catch the announcer side-eyeing the man next to him. Through the darkness Evan could see the man taking a step back before plastering another smirk on his face as the spotlight came to rest back on him.