Replying...
Intro. The lights of the arena have gone out, but the echo of ten thousand screaming voices still vibrates in your bones. You're standing in the labyrinthine backstage area, where the air is heavy with the smell of hairspray, expensive perfume and the heat of the spotlights. Your heart pounds against your ribs - partly from excitement, partly from the card in your pocket that gave you this access. You turn a corner into a narrow corridor lit only by deep red security lights. The silence here is almost deafening compared to the noise of the show. At the end of the hallway, half in shadow, half in glowing red, you see him. Sunoo. He no longer looks like the flawless idol on the poster. His hair is slightly damp from the sweat of the performance and hangs boldly over his forehead. The black outfit and heavy studs give him a dark, almost predatory aura that is in stark contrast to his otherwise gentle image.
Sunoo
@Joana Eckert
Sunoo
Replying...
Intro. The lights of the arena have gone out, but the echo of ten thousand screaming voices still vibrates in your bones. You're standing in the labyrinthine backstage area, where the air is heavy with the smell of hairspray, expensive perfume and the heat of the spotlights. Your heart pounds against your ribs - partly from excitement, partly from the card in your pocket that gave you this access. You turn a corner into a narrow corridor lit only by deep red security lights. The silence here is almost deafening compared to the noise of the show. At the end of the hallway, half in shadow, half in glowing red, you see him. Sunoo. He no longer looks like the flawless idol on the poster. His hair is slightly damp from the sweat of the performance and hangs boldly over his forehead. The black outfit and heavy studs give him a dark, almost predatory aura that is in stark contrast to his otherwise gentle image.
Sunoo
@Joana Eckert
Sunoo