Author's note: This first chapter has nothing to do with the story. If you wish, you may skip ahead. This is a reference chapter, basically just to get you informed on their names. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ THIS.

again,

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ THIS FIRST CHAPTER.

Ian disliked the nickname he was given, even though it helped him. Perhaps it was that he disliked being helped so much in part that he didn't favor his nickname, but more likely, Ian cared not for the name "KinderGoth" because it was given to him by conformists, it was outdated due to him being in high school, and/or it was insulting that he was compared to a kinder gardener when he was simply just short. Sure, it helped him have an excuse to being smaller than the rest of the grade, but Ian was sick of that. He was the same age as Henrietta, Shane and Matt; shouldn't he have a nickname like "CurlyGoth" or "TallGoth" like Shane had? Or "FlippyGoth", "RedGoth", or simply the male "Red" like Matt? Henrietta was "FemGoth", which was sexist but true in its own. Ian detested being called a midget (which he wasn't) so he became a goth on the outside to match his already blank inside, but that only shifted the attention from height to clique, and did next-to-nothing to stop "the conformists" from poking fun at his petiteness. KinderGoth was simply a wrong name. Wrong, but he could only bring himself to dislike it. None more. That was how Ian was. That was the gothic personality Ian was genuinely born with. But it was still a wrong name. Knowing this, Ian's close group of friends decided on something different; making up their own names, which were different than their "conformist given names" and different than the names the kids at school bestowed them with. Henrietta became Pierian, for obvious reasons, and Shane was called Torrent- after his ability to hold grudges until his reign had been cast- deadly and fast. Matt was known within the goths as Cyanide- his revenge on the ignorant unnoticed among the vials of clearer liquids, but able to burn through you in seconds. On the rare good days when you felt okay enough to shorten the nicknames, one could call another Pi (which sounded curiously to outsiders like pie), Tor, or Cy. So- What was Ian's name among the nameless? Was it worldly and victorian like Pierian? Was it passionately violent like Torrent or Cyanide? Or was it what it really was- something given to describe Ian the way he was, like the rest of the goths' names? It was the latter; a name that summed up Ian's personality- one that was more silent than the quiet ones he roamed with, a person so heartless and aloof, so distant and neutral that he didn't get angry like the other three goths, or even sad? Blasé. That was Ian's nickname around his kind. Shortened at times to Zay, though again I mention that these names were almost never shortened. As Pierian would put it, Alexander didn't go by Alex, he went by Alexander the Great. So every once and a while, when they were feeling poetic, the goths called one another by "Our Queen of the Damned" (henrietta), "Our Irascible Beast" (shane), "Our Lurid Shadower" (matt) and the last name left to reference, "Our Schizoid Comrade" (for Ian). While within those who've condemned all things that havent been condemned, Ian could appear as just the short kid in the background. Did this bother him? Not really. Should it have? Probably. But then again, if it did, he wouldn't be described as such.

If you were to ask Ian what name he preferred, he would sit for a moment, waiting for you to give up and leave him be, but if you stick it out, you would most likely get this answer, "I don't care. I don't hate any of them and I don't love any of them. However, I think going with the most suiting name would be most acceptable." And for this, Blasé was the least used, but only compared to the names Pierian, Cyanide, or Torrent. He was talked about the least, is what I had meant by that comment; The name Ian hears himself being referred to the most is Blasé, except by Henrietta. Piereian had the tendency to use the name 'shizoid comrade' more, for the gothic effect possibly, but probably because she found it most suiting- which is why one day, when Craig walked into the abandoned classroom, taking a wrong turn, he heard the curious phrase, "Hey, my schizoid comrade, could you hand me that pen in my bag- you know, the one with the blood-red ink, no, the blood-red, not luminescent-red, yeah that one! Thank you my schizoid comrade. Torrent; what was that one part again?" Craig turned on his heel and proceeded out of the room.

The goths might be too hard to follow, but once you learn the rules, the game is easy- so I suggest you check over this note once more and get everything down pat, because I am the Queen of the Damned, and I wrote this note in blood-red ink for my schizoid comrade to look over and approve before we travel to anywhere and set this note free. A tradition of ours- please honor it. If you were lucky enough to find this note, I only ask this of you- What name suits the mind of the body holding this confession? Does it match the you on the inside? I sure hope it does, because there are very little truths in this world, and we don't need your conformist names adding to the lies.

Pierian looked over the note she had written. Usually, when she got her peroid and was twice as moody as she normally was, the group of four would do a collab on a poem, and then wait untill midnight to "set it free" or let it be blown by the wind off someplace far. Today, however, she wrote the note alone. She wasn't sure why today was different, but it just was. Pierian, never one to act normal, had writen the story of the orgin of their names in past tence, third person, focusing it arround a random one of them. She had tried to write it as if Ian had written it himself, but it was hard to get in his head when he wasn't one usually to be up for an interview. After the draft, she got aproval from Blasé (who basically skimmed the first paragraph and nodded) and had Cyanide do the honors of letting it go free. Pierian felt accomplished. Over what, no one could say, but the three males were just happy thier unofficial leader had gotten what ever it was she had out of her system, and they were free to leave for the night.