[ Nighttime over the ocean is dark in all directions, even with the moon and stars overhead. A tall, pale man with messy hair and dark-colored clothing stands looking out over the water. His gloved hands hold the railing as he stands statue still, eyes fixed on something just over the horizon. At a glance, he seems deep in thought, brows furrowed while his grip on the rail tightens ever so slightly. He tries so hard not to let his gaze stray to the shapes he can see under the surface of the water. For so many reasons, something doesn't feel right about this situation.
While his posture may suggest that he wants to be left alone, perhaps it would be better if someone were to interrupt him. Perhaps someone themselves feels the same paranoia that Adam does and needs a bit of reassurance. ]
[ Ghost Ship: third class wallflower ]
[ Regardless of Adam's usual tendency to avoid large gatherings of people, the voyage is too long and the accommodations too crowded to remain in isolation without attracting attention.
On this night, he feels warm and fed and in relatively good spirits despite the dour expression on his face. The sound of music draws him out from his solitude. A pair of fiddles, slightly out of tune but played with skill and enthusiasm. The clapping of hands and the stomping of feet, occasionally a fraction off-beat but all the more charming for it. The cantor making up lyrics on the fly about dry land, better food, and softer beds (with more pleasurable company).
Adam leans against a far wall, nearly in the shadows behind some obstruction or another, to watch. Arms crossed over his chest, his attention is all for the music, scarcely sparing a glance to the people around him. He thinks that his wife would love this, were she to have joined him on the voyage, and how fond of dancing she is. His expression relaxes. Maybe he'll dance one in her honor. ]
[ Ghost Ship: Wildcard ]
[[ a Hiddleston-faced vampire stuck on the Titanic, at your pleasure. ]]
Adam | Only Lovers Left Alive
[ Nighttime over the ocean is dark in all directions, even with the moon and stars overhead. A tall, pale man with messy hair and dark-colored clothing stands looking out over the water. His gloved hands hold the railing as he stands statue still, eyes fixed on something just over the horizon. At a glance, he seems deep in thought, brows furrowed while his grip on the rail tightens ever so slightly. He tries so hard not to let his gaze stray to the shapes he can see under the surface of the water. For so many reasons, something doesn't feel right about this situation.
While his posture may suggest that he wants to be left alone, perhaps it would be better if someone were to interrupt him. Perhaps someone themselves feels the same paranoia that Adam does and needs a bit of reassurance. ]
[ Ghost Ship: third class wallflower ]
[ Regardless of Adam's usual tendency to avoid large gatherings of people, the voyage is too long and the accommodations too crowded to remain in isolation without attracting attention.
On this night, he feels warm and fed and in relatively good spirits despite the dour expression on his face. The sound of music draws him out from his solitude. A pair of fiddles, slightly out of tune but played with skill and enthusiasm. The clapping of hands and the stomping of feet, occasionally a fraction off-beat but all the more charming for it. The cantor making up lyrics on the fly about dry land, better food, and softer beds (with more pleasurable company).
Adam leans against a far wall, nearly in the shadows behind some obstruction or another, to watch. Arms crossed over his chest, his attention is all for the music, scarcely sparing a glance to the people around him. He thinks that his wife would love this, were she to have joined him on the voyage, and how fond of dancing she is. His expression relaxes. Maybe he'll dance one in her honor. ]
[ Ghost Ship: Wildcard ]
[[ a Hiddleston-faced vampire stuck on the Titanic, at your pleasure. ]]