This really must be your first time. [encountering someone like him, he means.] I'm still pretty damn tame.
[it's the truth, even if he's aware how ironic that must sound given that he's saying it while covered in his own blood. even within the members of his own band Vincent was the most 'presentable', his ratio of hardware to face still trending towards the flesh side of things. looking out over the crowds at some of the clubs they've played in, one might easily mistake the audience for an overturned box of pincushions.
there was nothing stopping him from following suit these days. he'd surrounded himself with people who had no interest in dictating his choices - who would likely encourage him vigorously if they supplied an opinion at all. it would be all too easy to load himself up on piercings and tattoos alike.
but he didn't. it wasn't fear that stayed Vincent's hand, but a sense of dignity. he was still a relative newcomer to the scene with a great deal to prove; to smother himself in the trappings of his subculture would only broadcast insecurity, telegraph how little confidence he had in his ability to succeed on his own merits. the people he met who had weighed themselves down with mutilations weren't deserving of an inch of his respect - so why should he expect anything different for himself if he followed along?
there was no way to stop him from adorning himself as he saw fit. but Vincent was going to reach his goals with his own hands, not through empty posturing.]
All you'd need to do is slap a pentagram on it and you'd have a pretty hot accessory. It's not a very complicated style.
[not like the carefully cultivated harmlessness that Kit seemed to be peddling these days. he probably spent hours in the morning debating the aggression level of argyle.]
no subject
[it's the truth, even if he's aware how ironic that must sound given that he's saying it while covered in his own blood. even within the members of his own band Vincent was the most 'presentable', his ratio of hardware to face still trending towards the flesh side of things. looking out over the crowds at some of the clubs they've played in, one might easily mistake the audience for an overturned box of pincushions.
there was nothing stopping him from following suit these days. he'd surrounded himself with people who had no interest in dictating his choices - who would likely encourage him vigorously if they supplied an opinion at all. it would be all too easy to load himself up on piercings and tattoos alike.
but he didn't. it wasn't fear that stayed Vincent's hand, but a sense of dignity. he was still a relative newcomer to the scene with a great deal to prove; to smother himself in the trappings of his subculture would only broadcast insecurity, telegraph how little confidence he had in his ability to succeed on his own merits. the people he met who had weighed themselves down with mutilations weren't deserving of an inch of his respect - so why should he expect anything different for himself if he followed along?
there was no way to stop him from adorning himself as he saw fit. but Vincent was going to reach his goals with his own hands, not through empty posturing.]
All you'd need to do is slap a pentagram on it and you'd have a pretty hot accessory. It's not a very complicated style.
[not like the carefully cultivated harmlessness that Kit seemed to be peddling these days. he probably spent hours in the morning debating the aggression level of argyle.]