//Open roleplay. Trigger warning for suicide, mental illness, addiction, and other depressing themes. Please have knowledge of death and black metal. Need a woman to play the guitarist. "Cut up......." the slow, lurching growl of the depressive death metal bands' lead singer, named Jareth Sartoris, echoed through the walls of the club. "Depressed..... Alone......" the lead singer was shirtless, curled into a ball, and cut up, bleeding profusely on the stage as the guitar slowly played in the background. However, this was a two-body operation. The lead singer and the guitarist, and there was a drum machine in the background. The female guitarist occasionally put her own skilled growls into the song, and even screamed once or twice, a long, screech that cut through the growls like a sword. They called themselves 'Mortis' named after the horse that the 4th Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death, rode. Jareth himself had black and white facepaint on, the majority of his face being coloured white with black around his lips and eyes, and long stretches of black shooting out of his eyes and mouth. He had many, many scars from self mutilation and various scuffles he had gotten in, and there were track marks on his chest from an old heroin addiction. They were playing from their latest album 'I Love You To Death' and had hung the album art behind them, which consisted of their name in jagged calligraphy and a skull with roses in it's eye sockets. the album title was in the bottom left-hand corner. Finally, they finished the concert and people left, most of them dressed similar to the band members themselves. Jareth stood up, gave a light smile to the guitarist, and then put on a Dark Funeral shirt and a leather jacket. They would come back before the club opened the next day to get the equipment. Jareth drove her home, then drove to his apartment in the middle of Down Town. It was small, three rooms, and the walls were covered in drawings, album concept art, maps for a Dungeons And Dragons game that was ongoing with the Guitarist, and lyrics. The sun was coming up so he simply threw his shirt off and sprawled out on his bed.