Not exactly what I was thinking { Darcy/Open! }

A pocket mirror was taken from the black leather messenger bag and held up to check a rather gruesome face in it. Darcy looked at his masterpiece in the tiny compact mirror that was stained around the edges with multicolored fingerprints from its previous uses. A smile spread across his face as he looked at what he had done, making him seem even more horrifying. Any normal person would look at him and see something straight out of a horror movie. Maybe one of the Saw movies or Silent Hill. The bottom lid of his right eye looked like it was completely gone, replaced by a deep slash downward that opened his face up like an open zipper. Underneath was nothing but shiny red muscle tissue. His mouth hadn't been left alone, either. The left corner of his mouth looked like it had been slit open as well; as if the knife used to do it had cut from the inside out. Shiny, crimson blood ran down from these wounds and down his neck. Other people would see a dying boy, bleeding out from wounds in his face. But Darcy saw a masterpiece.

Ever since the sophomore had gotten to the Pallet High School campus a few weeks earlier, he was amazed with the amount of professional makeup that they had available. Crème foundation in every different color imaginable, liquid latex in like four different colors, shiny gloss for all different skin surfaces. . . it was like heaven to the horror fanatic. He'd worked nonstop on his art since he arrived, acquiring as much makeup as possible. Of course, for bruises, nothing worked better than the ole' red eyeshadow and purple body paint palette. But he made sure to take many pictures of each design he tried, creating a portfolio for himself before he even started his cosmetic arts classes. Perhaps he could impress the teacher. It would be the first person he'd ever impressed in his life.

But right now, he was not where he usually was when he made his masterpieces. He was sitting crosslegged behind a bush, listening to the group of students on the tour pass by. He was about to put his designs to the test for the first time on the campus. It felt like a monumental moment for Darcy. He felt like he was about to initiate himself right into Pallet High, and he could care less that he may get in trouble. It was all for the sake of art, anyway. Putting his mirror away after making sure his real eye color wasn't visible under his bright purple FX contacts, he peeked around the bush, seeking out possible targets. There were a few chatty girls, they would probably be good screamers. . . There was a few guys that were absorbed in listening to the tour guide speak, they probably wouldn't give too good a reaction. But then- Oh, that was it. The perfect target.

As the group of people scuffled by, there was one that was sitting down to tie his shoe. . . A lonely looking boy with a serious look to him. However, Darcy had an idea that he could scare this one half to death. . . Or at least get his pulse to race. That's what Darcy lived for. He had to raise a hand to his mouth to muffle a snicker that escaped. The bush that the gruesome one was hiding behind was directly in front of the bench, on the other side of the pathway. All Darcy had to do was secure his messenger bag, get into a crouching position, make sure some fake blood was smeared on his hands and arms, and. . . go!

"Oh my God!" Darcy nearly screamed, stumbling out from behind the bush and onto the pavement, nearly falling on his face. He scrambled up, looking behind him as though he were running for his life from something chasing him. Darcy sometimes thought that he would be just as good in drama classes as he was in cosmetic arts. Tripping and falling once again (purposely of course) on his way across the path, he looked up at the boy and made eye contact. The look on Darcy's face was written with fear, and he scrambled over to the boy on the bench, grabbing at his shoulders and taking a deep, shaky and very audible breath, as if he were about to scream in pain.

Instead of doing so though, he stopped, and started laughing, backing off from the boy. Darcy's black-purple dyed hair was spiked in the back, and looked like feathers of some tropical bird as Darcy put his hands on his knees and shook his head. His laughter didn't stop until he looked at the boy again. "Man, that was good." he said, feigning a wipe away of tears. He chuckled. "The name's Darcy, by the way." He stuck out his right hand, aiming to get the boy to shake his hand. "Nice to scare-- I mean, meet you."

Word Count: 838
Muse: Awesome.
Listening To: Australia -- The Shins
Note: OH YOU DARCY. dat hair. dat. hair. :3

can't describe it, and you can't move like them
you become their worst nightmare

Darcy absolutely loved the other boy's reaction. He seemed bad, but Darcy knew that he wasn't the type of guy that would pick a fight over something like being scared. He just didn't look the part. The horror fanatic smirked when the other seemed to hesitate on shaking hands, but did it anyway. This rather impressed Darcy, as most people wouldn't be ready to forgive one of his pranks so fast. He was starting to like this guy. He introduced himself as Bartholomew. Darcy raised his dark eyebrows. "Nice name." he stated. Do you do this whole… thing of yours to random people often? Darcy laughed.

"You have no idea." he told the brunette in front of him. "It's so fun to scare people. And if I don't know them, the better." Darcy lifted both of his hands to the fake wound on the side of his mouth, starting at the end, and began to peel it off slowly. It all came off rather easily; the fake ripped up skin and muscle tissue, the shiny crimson blood. When it was off, the only thing left was the blood painted around the wound and the blood running down his neck. With one hand, he opened his black messenger back and pulled out a large gallon plastic zip bag, and shoved the dried liquid latex that he'd peeled off in it. Ah, liquid latex. It worked wonders.

After he was satisfied with the way the wound was laying in the bag, Darcy quickly shoved the bag into Bartholomew's hands, muttering a quick "Hold this." He proceeded to go through the same peeling process with the wound on his eye, until there was nothing left but fake blood on his bottom eyelid. He opened one side of the bag while it was still in the other boy's hands and dropped the other item in before snatching it away altogether and zipping it up. He placed it back in his bag. At least now he looked semi-normal. But really, as Darcy, he never looked strictly normal. There was normal, and then there was normal for Darcy. And by his standards, he was semi-normal.

Darcy looked up to Bartholomew and smiled. He didn't do it on purpose, but with the with his rather sharp features and sharp canine teeth, he looked a bit wicked when he smiled. "But yeah, I do that a lot. Like, a lot a lot a lot." He waved a dismissive gesture through the air in front of him with a bloody hand. "I'm a cosmetic arts major so I have an excuse."

Word Count: 431
Muse: Pretty good.
Listening To: Ghost -- Kid Cudi
Note: He's pretty straight-forward. xD I dunno what Bart's gonna think about him.