Metalocalypse: Impending Doom

Chapter Three: Nathalia

Nathalia's room was dark, dark and cold. Just the way she liked it.

As she stood around the room, pleased at the black decor and overall goth aesthetic, she could hear footsteps walking past her door and a familiar voice begging for alcohol, and she grinned. That conversation would have to wait though, when Salem sobered up; plus, she wanted to have a look around the room first.

First, she noticed a collection of medieval swords above her bed and along the walls. What if that falls down and cuts off my head? That'd be so fucking brutal, she thought with a grin. Next, she noticed a lot of bloody, gory paintings, including that of mythological creatures. She saw a Siren holding the head of an unfortunate soul who had obviously wandered too close to her domain. Underneath the painting, engraved into the golden frame, it said: "Nothing escapes the song of a man-eater."

"Damn right," Nathalia said out loud, before turning her attention to a table further in the corner, which had a placement to set her tobacco and weed products down on, causing her to smirk. On another wall, a giant flat-screen was built into it and a bunch of game systems sat neatly in a row.

Whoever had decorated in here, certainly did their homework. They probably could've found some better looking swords though... and she would prefer having her own drawings and paintings all over her wall. She wasn't that big on Sirens either, and if they wanted her to actually get any singing done, they shouldn't have given her any video games, so she didn't know what Abigail was thinking to possibly suggest such a thing.

Something was also missing from her black bed, too. Rummaging through some of her bags that she realized had been brought there earlier, she ended up pulling out some paints and a small knife out of one of the pockets. She was sure they wouldn't mind, since after all it was her room, as she dug the knife into the fresh blankets, creating a few rips and tears, then used her red paint to cover her hand and plant it all over the blanket.

"Edgy," Nathalia said approvingly to herself, lowkey wondering, if Nathan saw it, how cool he'd think of her, then she scoffed to herself. She didn't need his approval or anything weird like that. With time he would be impressed by what she did best- singing.

As for her room, Nathalia would have to make plans to fix the rest later.

As she stepped back to admire the bed some more, Nathalia's lips pursed at the thought of the earlier incident with Nathan. She was pretty sure she had social anxiety, which was ironic considering how popular she and her voice was. In a crowd, she could just ignore everyone and focus on herself and what she needed to do. Up close and personal was a different story. She was well-known for avoiding her fans or resorting to attacking, yelling, or generally freaking out, mostly accidentally, if she felt too anxious.

The fact that she had been trying to suppress her excitement the entire time, up until meeting Nathan himself, ended up making her anxiety come out a lot worse than normal. It all seemingly worked out in the end though because she wasn't asked to leave, and that's all that mattered to her.

Nathalia almost didn't expect to actually see Nathan, either. She kept telling herself that it was just a dream and that she would wake soon, since nothing this amazing would surely ever happen to her. Then again, that's what she thought about being in a famous band, and that 'dream' was still going strong for over a year.

She ran her fingers through her long, silky hair and couldn't help but smile. She was definitely proud of herself for supposedly making a decent impression, even if it was originally based on an accidental fuck-up.

There was a body sized, ancient looking mirror hung up on the outside of the bathroom door. As Nathalia looked into it to study herself, she tried to push back feelings of possible self-doubt and humility. Instead, she squinted to make out the engraving along the bronze plated frame, but realized it was in a different language.