"Well I have to admit, I feel like the barrette might be a bit much, but... eh, I was feeling artsy." The artist grinned impishly, "As you can tell!" she laughed as she prodded the Bro-Wiggy on the open page of her sketch book, "For this is clearly the utmost expression of my artistic genius!"
"Utmost expression eh? Hmmmm....let's see if I can depict a little bit of my artistic genius." Wiggy added with a derisive snort. With a pencil in hand the Necromancer leaned over the sketch pad. When he was finished the very sober Wiggy had produced what amounted to a stick figure in the classic pose of Rodin's 'The Thinker'. With a thoughtful expression on his face the figure was made all the more amusing by the backwards cap Wiggy had sketched out.
Tentatively, Demonic took the book from his hands and looked his drawing up and down, then gave another snorting laugh and shook her head, "It's beautiful, Wiggy, just beautiful." Then, suddenly struck with inspiration, she commanded, "Stay still for a moment!" and went to work, her pencil flying across the page for a few moments, then slowing to longer, more defined strokes. An erasure here or there, a few added cross-hatched shadows...
Immediately after Demonic spoke up the Necromancer froze. He knew that whatever Demonic was doing was going to be excellent. She was a phenomenal artist after all! Once she had finished he was looking forward to seeing whatever her creative mind had generated. Despite his desire to remain still he felt a massive yawn coming on and did his best to fight it.
"And then a... and some... But then.... Aha! No... Hmmm..." Demonic muttered all the while, and her green eyes narrowed down to a near-glare as she added the finishing touches. "There! Look!" She turned her sketch book for him to see. In about twenty minutes, she had created a somewhat rough, but still instantly recognizable replication of Michelangelo's David sculpture, but with one key difference. "It's you!" she pointed at the head, and, indeed, the head was an exact likeness of Wiggychiggy himself.
His eyes widened, "Wha...what?! That is glorious! I love it!" Suddenly a massive yawn cracked his features. "Alright Demonic...I need to split before I pass out on the bar. Knowing you, you would erase my face, and then end up replacing it with something a little more aesthetically pleasing." Standing to his feet the Necromancer embraced Demonic warmly.
"Haha! You know me too well, Wiggy," Demonic replied good-naturedly, "You can always take one of the rooms upstairs, but if you've gotta be somewhere, get your butt outa here, m'kay?" She grinned and prodded him in the ribs.
Wiggy gave her offer a bit of thought, "You know you're right. I think I'll just spend the night here if you don't mind." With another yawn the Necromancer gave her a broad smile. "You're a peach Demonic. I won't make much of a mess I promise. You have a good one!" Nodding to her the Necromancer slipped upstairs and picked a room to occupy for the night.
A young man of medium height and slender build descended the stairs into the Aeternus. He had spent most of the day in his room, but when hunger pains began to set in, he realized that he would have to come out in public eventually. Clothed in a tightly fitted black t-shirt and baggy jeans, a button-up shirt tied by the sleeves around his waist, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around.
"Phew... no one around.." He muttered, then winced slightly, as though uncomfortable with the sound of his own voice. His fingers fiddled with the tips of his forest green hair, braided neatly and draped over his shoulder, as he wandered behind the bar, looking for something to eat.
Suddenly the young man could hear a rowdy drinking tune born aloft on the air as someone extremely boisterous made their way up to the door of the Aeternus. "Oh yo ho and fiddlee-dee...something, something PIRATES!" The familiar cackling laughter of the Necromancer Wiggychiggy filled the immediate area as he pushed open the door. "Hellooooo? Demoooooniiiic?" Instead his eyes clapped on a green-haired youth that he had never seen before. "Oh! Hello there! You haven't seen a girl with...eerily similar hair to yours...floating around here, have you?" Wiggy's right eyebrow cocked upwards.
"Wi-! Uh," he coughed, his face flushed a light red, "No, I haven't. No one... no one floating around here!" he laughed a little too loudly, rubbing the back of his neck once more, "I'm just, uh, grabbing some food..." He looked this way and that, then spun around toward the kitchen, nearly losing his balance, "the kitchen, yeah. Refrigerator." and he disappeared into the kitchen, popping out soon after with a small container of left-over pasta to be microwaved.
"What a nervous little man he is..." Wiggy was instantly suspicious! His impeccable logic began to work out just what could have caused this man's unique reaction. "EUREKA!" The Necromancer exclaimed, finger outstretched to the heavens as he stormed into the kitchen. "You are A CLONE!" Wiggy thundered as he pointed a suspect finger at the man rummaging through the fridge. Leaping up onto the island in a predatory crouch the Necromancer laughed aloud. "I've figured you out alright!"
"A clone??" he rolled his emerald eyes as he closed the microwave and set it to reheat the pasta, "Wiggy, that's one of the dumber-- I-I mean.." He slapped his palm to his forehead, then rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration (with noticeably well worn fingers). "Damnit." He had been stupid to think he could keep this from Wiggy, especially considering his habit of popping in right when it would be least convenient.
Cackling with laughter the Necromancer leaped down from the island--careful not to disturb anything--and approached the awkward man. "So there is some kind of shenanigan going on here...but what!?" Grinning and stroking his chin Wiggy began to slowly circle the male. "Let me think...what could have possibly gone wrong?" Hopping up onto the counter top next to the microwave he scrutinized the other's features.
The young man sighed and rolled his eyes once more, placing a hand on his hip in a decidedly girlish fashion. He quickly discovered that this felt very strange, and shoved the hand in his pocket instead. He resigned himself to the fact that the necromancer would figure it out eventually, but for a moment, he allowed Wiggy time to figure it out. He would surely notice that everything about the green haired fellow would looked vaguely familiar-- hair and eyes, posture, height, mannerisms. Eventually, however, he decided to offer an extra hint.
"Look," he said, raising his hands up between them, "this should help." His hands were strong and steady, but most notably, messy. Wiggy would of course notice little spots of ink, a small, paper-thin cut in the skin on one finger, and a smudge of graphite along the side of the right hand.