<div style="
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height: 600px;
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background-color: #232323;
box-shadow: 0 0 2px 2px grey, 0 0 2px 2px grey, 0 0 2px 2px grey;
color: white;"><div style="
/*GIF*/
height: 110px;
max-width: 100%;
box-shadow: 0px 2px 2px #E0CCFF;
background: url(https://i.imgur.com/XWnZ2kS.gif);
background-size: cover;
background-position: 50% 40%;
font-size: 0px;">hh<div style="
/*IMAGE*/
margin: auto;
height: 130px;
max-width: 130px;
border-radius: 100%;
margin-top: 40px;
box-shadow: 0 0 5px 5px #E0CCFF, 0 0 5px 5px #E0CCFF, 0 0 5px 5px #E0CCFF;
background-image: url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/18/a3/2d/18a32d1de983b8d0faa88b3ef8877d35.jpg);
background-size: 150px;
background-position: right top;
font-size: 0px;">hh<div style="
/*NAME*/
height: 50px;
max-width: 100%;
margin: auto;
margin-top: 120px;
margin-left: 5px;
font-size: 20px;
letter-spacing: 3px;
text-align: center;
text-shadow: 2px 2px 2px black;
color: white;">ESTIENNE</div></div></div><div style="
/*TEXT BOX*/
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height: 350px;
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font-family: Book Antiqua;
font-size: 12px;">Living as a hybrid has always been difficult, but nowadays, it's downright terrifying. The general public doesn't seem to be as acutely aware of the threat as he is, his job in mortuary science making him acutely aware of the cruelties the world plays upon them. There's been a growing number of murders recently, and a pattern has emerged; all of the targets are either hybrids, those in interspecies relationships, or those who publicly support the other two groups. The police are trying to keep the whole thing quiet and hidden away from the public, attempting to solve the issue before fear can grip the public, but by keeping the issue silent, how is anyone supposed to know to protect themselves? Estienne has never trusted the police, and this issue has only strengthened his negative opinion. But what can he do? If he speaks out about it, he'll undoubtedly just get himself killed. Either the police will do it or the killer will.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't get to see most of the victims, of course. The corpses are usually left mangled and beyond restoration, turned into some prejudiced freak's morbid art piece, and thus unsuited for a funeral. Usually, the police scrape up what is left, and that's the end of it. Sometimes, though, the corpse is presentable enough to be given back to the family, and in those cases, sometimes they wind up here on Estienne's table. This particular victim is mostly mangled below the neck, meaning that with enough stitching and long enough clothes, the mortal wounds can be hidden and create a visage of peace and normalcy. He's trying not to think about the situation too much, letting routine take over as he finishes the last stitch and then sprays the corpse down in chemicals. He doesn't want to dwell on the tattered state of the stranger's paper-thin monarch butterfly wings, nor how they contrast with the bloodied gaps behind his lips where fangs used to sit.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, he's finished, and when the room is safe to enter, the corpse is wheeled away to be dressed and beautified into an imitation of vitality. He's done for the day, so he strips from his PPE gear, heedless of the mess the humidity of the full-body suit has left his hair in. He exits the building quickly, heedless of the rain as he hops in his silver Audi that is probably a year away from the scrapyard, and speeds home as fast as he can.<br/>
<br/>
He makes it only two and a half miles before he has to pull over to puke on the side of the road, the rain washing the bile away into the street's gutter.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#e0ccff"><i class="fa fa-vial faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-vial faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-vial faa-pulse"></i> <i class="fa fa-vial faa-pulse"></i></span>​</div><br/>
He tosses his clothes into his washer as soon as he gets home as a precaution, breathing a sigh of relief as his wings get to finally stretch out after being crammed into his clothes all day. He heads to the shower, washing any potentially remaining chemicals down the drain. He spends longer than he should staring down at the white scales on his legs.<br/>
<br/>
When he gets out, he reaches immediately for his phone he'd left on the bathroom counter. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#e0ccff"><i>Are either of you available for a drink?</i></span> he texts to all of his friends. All meaning two: Simon and Picus. He's not expecting a response, and it's unusual of him to be the one to ask for... well, anything. But today is an unusual day and he needs a drink. He might have alcohol left in the cupboards, but he's been going through it more rapidly these days, and he's not confident. Plus, even he can admit it's getting depressing how often he's drinking alone.</div><div style="
/*TAGS*/
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margin-top: 15px;
font-size: 12px;
text-align: center;">「 <a class="username" data-user-id="9084" data-username="MaryGold" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/9084/">MaryGold</a> | <a class="username" data-user-id="6774" data-username="BigBird" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/6774/">BigBird</a> 」</div><div style="
/*BOTTOM*/
margin: auto;
margin-top: 10px;
height: 15px;
max-width: 100%;
background: #E0CCFF;
text-align: center;
line-height: 13px;
font-size: 10px;
color: black;"><abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="REMEMBERANCE FUNERAL HOME → ESTIENNE'S HOME">LOCATION</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="SIMON {TEXT} | PICUS {TEXT}">INTERACTIONS</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="N/A">MENTIONS</abbr></div></div><div style=" margin: auto; margin-top: 5px; height: 10px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; font-size: 8px;">Code by Jenamos</div>