THE OTHERS
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Enrolled: Dec, 1973
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ID Number: 32-425-0A7
Out-Patient (owns Carpe) Werewolf (born)/Vampire (bitten) RISK LEVEL: 1
Latest Status: Unavailable
Posts: 300
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Post by BRAM STERLING JACKSON on Aug 13, 2019 17:58:35 GMT 1
Standing in the doorway of the music room, Bram put his hands on his hips and surveyed the area for a few moments before reaching up to his head, the bandana that held back the untamed locks of black and drew out two drumsticks that were also held there. Lowering them they twirled in his fingers before becoming still as he walked forward and kicked the door shut behind himself. If he could lock it then he would have but unfortunately this was an open space and he had no dominion over it like he did his own living space.
Although there were many instruments in the music room, including guitars both acoustic and electric, violins and a large piano, Bram only had eyes for the drums. A piece of kit that he claimed possession over and repeatedly got irritated when he saw it had been ‘messed’ with during his absence from Manson, despite it being another thing that was open for all to play regardless of if they knew what they were really doing.
Walking around it Bram spent a few moments adjusting the height and layout of things before going to the sound system, plugging in his phone and ready to get some music playing, then took the remote to the drum kit where he sat down, put the volume up to high and then started singing and drumming along with the chosen song.
“…Pay the piper, here we go. Got a ticket for a one-way journey. Slay the viper, come follow, even if you're ordinary. There’s a place for you here… Raise the anchor, all aboard as the captain calls his misfits. This Ghost Ship, sets off to shake the world – let's gooo!”
Trailing off in a howl Bram beat the drums louder. No, he did not really need to be louder but Bram was happy, he was feeling good, feeling loved and owned, like he had a place in the world that wasn’t just misery and rejection and that in his mind called for some noise, that and you can’t really do metal quietly in his opinion, as really what was the point? Especially if its power metal, the clue is in the name you got to crank it up to eleven, and hope none of the medical centre is above the music room... Noise provided a great distraction, not just from outside things but the thoughts in your own head too.
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