"The Flavor of a Life That Fades Away"
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Alkrdaam on 06-02-2012, 01:58:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>"The Flavor of a Life That Fades Away"</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Alkrdaam</strong> on <strong>06-02-2012, 01:58:03</strong>
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				<em>Another morning, another step closer to death.</em> Why was that always the first thought on his mind? Death, mayhem, agony... those thoughts plagued his every waking moment, and often leaked into his dreams. Daren wasn't particularly whiny about it, nor was he fearful, but it did make the man somewhat gloomy. Laying on his bed as strands of morning light bled through his apartment window, Daren's brown eyes simply glared to the clock that drew him out of peaceful slumber with its incessant beeping. After a moment of laying there lethargically, he worked up enough motivation to stand up and turn off the alarm. It wasn't always this bad, but he'd been having a particularly slow week thus far, and was dreading the future to come. Four more murders in the last week, and the only comfort was that the spirits didn't linger after death.<br><br>The man wasn't what anyone would call ugly, but he wasn't particularly handsome, if for no other reason than his mood. He was around six foot tall and of average weight and built. He had a little bit of fat on his midsection, but he also had a small bit of muscle definition where needed. His face had the outline where hair seemed to want to appear, but he kept his face and neck shaved, keeping the hair on his head relatively short as well. A shower and some cheap microwaved breakfast later, Daren was on his way out the door of his apartment, clad in black cargo pants, a black trench coat, and a gray shirt with black text on it, covered by the closed jacket. It was somewhat chilly, winter having come late but arriving with a full fury. As he walked, he gazed around him, alone in the halls of the apartment complex. Or maybe alone wasn't the right word for it; there were people, but he didn't stop and speak with them. He didn't make eye contact. Nor did they bother trying to strike up a conversation with him. Even though they existed in the same world on him, Daren <em>felt</em> alone, no matter how large or small the crowd was.<br><br>Yet as lonely as he felt, as much as he seemed not to care about others or himself, he was on his way to his office. For in his office Daren solved murders that would have taken police months or even years to catch up with, and for every person who thought of him as a lunatic, there was someone who was allowed to pass on to their destination. Perhaps there was a heaven or a hell. He didn't know, nor did he know why he charged himself with helping the dead find their place. It was the only thing that felt right though, the only thing that made him feel as if his life was worth living. He'd always been among them, or more properly, they had always been among the world. People just didn't see them as he did. Many didn't believe they existed. It was strange when thinking about it. If not for this sight, Daren might have had a much better life. He might have been able to go to college, to get a degree in business or culinary art. The irony is that these visions of death kept others alive, allowing him to help catch killers and rapists before they could strike again.
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