Serbitar was the first to come to the metal doors. His “lair”, as he put it, was the closest. As he came he simply sat down and leaned on to the wall next to the doors. People started to gather one by one. Mostly they came in silence. Some came, said hello and started to mind their own business. Serbitar began to think of his past, he knew everyone yet no one ever knew him. To others he was a weirdo, something to stay away from. He wandered if it will be the same inside. For the first time in a long time he put down his hood and unwrapped his, snow white hair, from his neck. Letting them flow free, he held some in front of his face. They were truly crystal snow white. For the first time he admired them and felt happy he had them. For the most part of his life he hid them, wished that they were of normal colour. He didn’t know why the sudden change. Maybe it was because he accepted to either succeed or die, strangely he realised that at this moment he was contempt with himself and his life. The feeling was foreign, yet soothing, and Serbitar knew what he had to do to keep it. 

Slowly he stood up as another person came, and for the difference of others he spoke more, and was the only one who invited everyone to meet each other as friends. Stretching himself Serbitar ignored him. His hair was hanging down straight. The ends stopped just below his (awesome) ass. Slowly he grabbed the hair and started to wrap it around his neck. Once done he again put on the hood, and waited to see if anyone was still to come or, will they be sent on their path.