LOG LOG LOGGITY! MIDNIGHT LOG!!!
WHO: Connor ialwayshadasoul, Dru (npc) dewyeyed_crazy, teenaged girl
WHAT: Connor got OUT of Dienw, and has met up with his 'sister' in FREEDOM!
WHEN: Midnight after this, this, and this
WHERE: London Tower, then some club place dealy
WHY: Connor went... over the edge... and his 'Sister' was there to 'help' him.
Big Ben tolled midnight, just as a slim figure slipped through the shadows at the base of the Tower of London.
Drusilla liked the The Tower. There was blood ground into the bricks, mixed with the mortar, perfuming the air. Once, she danced with Anne Boleyn under the stars after a bloody feast of red-coated guardsmen in their funny hats. Now, she pressed her ear to the wall and listened to the screams and tears they breathed to her, and waited.
Silently, Connor slipped around in the night, leaning against the wall near to her. He smelled of freshly shed blood, hunger and rage... vengeance. "Sister?" he whispered.
"Oh, hello..." Dru answered, her voice hushed and dazed. "I'm listening to the walls. Such pretty stories of the past they tell."
"Do they?" Connor asked mildly, glancing at the sky. "I can't hear them."
"Shhhhhhh," she shushed him, holding out one cold, white finger and pressing it to his lips. "You must be very quiet. You shall hurt Lady Grey's feelings. It is her death parade. Dum dum dum."
He kissed her fingertip before removing it from his lips. "My apologies to Lady Grey, then, Sister," he bowed his head, whispering.
She turned to him and smiled, her grin feral. "I brought you a present. Would you like to see it?"
"Oh yes, please," he replied, blue eyes flickering gold for the barest of moments.
She took his hands in her own and gently tugged, leading him to the another room, where a terrified young woman lay bound and gagged. She was seventeen, maybe eighteen, and pretty despite the over-abundant make-up caked on her face. "She was going to a party. I told her that I knew a better one."
Connor inhaled slowly, "She smells terrified," he replied, a slow smile turning his lips.
Dru kissed his cheek and pulled back, humming a nonsensical little tune as she swayed and danced around the room.
Connor knelt slightly before her, "Girls shouldn't wear so much makeup," he said idly.
The girl thrashed wildly, trying to scoot away from him and kicking out with her leg, her heeled foot connecting with his arm.
Connor snarled, his face shifting immediately as he backhanded her. "I could have made you enjoy it," he said, yellowed eyes narrow, licking his fang. "But to be honest, I'm really hungry." He glanced at Dru. "Sister?"
Dru stopped her whirling and looked at Connor questioningly. "Don't you like my dancing?"
"Your dancing is lovely, Sister. I only want to make sure - this one isn't a gypsy, is she?"
"No no no." She shook her head and went back to her 'dance'. "No dirty gypsies for me and baby brother."
"Good..." he said slowly before turning back to the girl, wrenching her head to the side and sinking his fangs in deep.
The girl gave a little gasp, her eyes fluttering wide open. Her hands flailed for purchase and she gripped her assailant's arm, nails digging into flesh. It felt as if her whole world were draining away through a needle.
After weeks of that animal blood, tasting like processed disgusting ash, this was ambrosia. Ah, human blood, sooo good. He grasped her hair tightly, keeping her head to the side as he groaned low, drinking greedily. He wanted to feel her life drain, listen to her heart flutter in terror.
With a tiny sound halfway between a sob and a scream, her grip slackened and her arms fell, body slumping entirely under the pressure of gravity. Her eyes fluttered once, then her head slumped to the side, lolling against Connor's forehead, her eyelids frozen open in a dead mask of shock and horror.
Thud-thud. Thud... Thud-thud... thud... thu- Connor sucked out the last bit, then sat back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
"She smelled like lilacs," Dru said as she came closer, draping her arms around Connor's shoulders. "Did she taste like lilacs?"
He leaned into her semi-embrace. "She tasted divine," he remarked with that low tone of one who was utterly lost... and cared not.
"Poor boy," Dru crooned, stroking his cheek. "Poor, sick boy. You are so hungry. Shall we get you another, and another, and another more?"
"Let's paint the countryside crimson and play a symphony of fearful cries to the stars, Sister," Connor said with a sad smile.
"Oooooooooooh," Dru sighed, pulling him up so the dead girl's body fell to the ground with a soft thud. "We shall have fun. Such lovely games. I know another fun game," she confided, leaning forward, voice low. "Shall I teach you?"
"What sort of game, Sister?" Connor asked curiously,
"A fun one," Dru said in a wicked whisper. "Blessed baby boy has so much, so much to learn."
"Tell me, then," he whispered back. "Tell me what this game is."
Dru took Connor's hands and lead him towards Traitor's Gate. Past the river and the sparse trees, the whole city of London lay like one open, bleeding heart. "Showing is telling."
"Then show me what fun is to be had, before they realise I've gone, Sister."
"Do you like little ones?" Dru asked. "With their little arms and little legs, and little, little hearts."
"I prefer them grown a bit, with recognition in their eyes that they're going to die, and nobody's going to save them."
"Then we shall get you some. Little ants, they're crawling everywhere. But we must be quiet. Shhhh! Or they will know you've gone."
"Silent as the grave," Connor murmured, with a wry smile.
Dru lead the way through the darkness. They slipped like shadows through the London streets, leaving empty-veined bodies dumped in alleyways. The neon glow of the London nightlife cast a pale, ethereal glow over their features. Her dead heart, and his live, both thudded in their chests from the bass of the music echoing out of the club Dru had brought them to. "Run and catch," she cooed.
Connor's eyes yellowed, though his face didn't change. One of the advantages of being alive, a different breed, one might suppose. He flashed a grin, sharp of tooth, and slipped in among the dancing throng.
WHAT: Connor got OUT of Dienw, and has met up with his 'sister' in FREEDOM!
WHEN: Midnight after this, this, and this
WHERE: London Tower, then some club place dealy
WHY: Connor went... over the edge... and his 'Sister' was there to 'help' him.
Big Ben tolled midnight, just as a slim figure slipped through the shadows at the base of the Tower of London.
Drusilla liked the The Tower. There was blood ground into the bricks, mixed with the mortar, perfuming the air. Once, she danced with Anne Boleyn under the stars after a bloody feast of red-coated guardsmen in their funny hats. Now, she pressed her ear to the wall and listened to the screams and tears they breathed to her, and waited.
Silently, Connor slipped around in the night, leaning against the wall near to her. He smelled of freshly shed blood, hunger and rage... vengeance. "Sister?" he whispered.
"Oh, hello..." Dru answered, her voice hushed and dazed. "I'm listening to the walls. Such pretty stories of the past they tell."
"Do they?" Connor asked mildly, glancing at the sky. "I can't hear them."
"Shhhhhhh," she shushed him, holding out one cold, white finger and pressing it to his lips. "You must be very quiet. You shall hurt Lady Grey's feelings. It is her death parade. Dum dum dum."
He kissed her fingertip before removing it from his lips. "My apologies to Lady Grey, then, Sister," he bowed his head, whispering.
She turned to him and smiled, her grin feral. "I brought you a present. Would you like to see it?"
"Oh yes, please," he replied, blue eyes flickering gold for the barest of moments.
She took his hands in her own and gently tugged, leading him to the another room, where a terrified young woman lay bound and gagged. She was seventeen, maybe eighteen, and pretty despite the over-abundant make-up caked on her face. "She was going to a party. I told her that I knew a better one."
Connor inhaled slowly, "She smells terrified," he replied, a slow smile turning his lips.
Dru kissed his cheek and pulled back, humming a nonsensical little tune as she swayed and danced around the room.
Connor knelt slightly before her, "Girls shouldn't wear so much makeup," he said idly.
The girl thrashed wildly, trying to scoot away from him and kicking out with her leg, her heeled foot connecting with his arm.
Connor snarled, his face shifting immediately as he backhanded her. "I could have made you enjoy it," he said, yellowed eyes narrow, licking his fang. "But to be honest, I'm really hungry." He glanced at Dru. "Sister?"
Dru stopped her whirling and looked at Connor questioningly. "Don't you like my dancing?"
"Your dancing is lovely, Sister. I only want to make sure - this one isn't a gypsy, is she?"
"No no no." She shook her head and went back to her 'dance'. "No dirty gypsies for me and baby brother."
"Good..." he said slowly before turning back to the girl, wrenching her head to the side and sinking his fangs in deep.
The girl gave a little gasp, her eyes fluttering wide open. Her hands flailed for purchase and she gripped her assailant's arm, nails digging into flesh. It felt as if her whole world were draining away through a needle.
After weeks of that animal blood, tasting like processed disgusting ash, this was ambrosia. Ah, human blood, sooo good. He grasped her hair tightly, keeping her head to the side as he groaned low, drinking greedily. He wanted to feel her life drain, listen to her heart flutter in terror.
With a tiny sound halfway between a sob and a scream, her grip slackened and her arms fell, body slumping entirely under the pressure of gravity. Her eyes fluttered once, then her head slumped to the side, lolling against Connor's forehead, her eyelids frozen open in a dead mask of shock and horror.
Thud-thud. Thud... Thud-thud... thud... thu- Connor sucked out the last bit, then sat back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
"She smelled like lilacs," Dru said as she came closer, draping her arms around Connor's shoulders. "Did she taste like lilacs?"
He leaned into her semi-embrace. "She tasted divine," he remarked with that low tone of one who was utterly lost... and cared not.
"Poor boy," Dru crooned, stroking his cheek. "Poor, sick boy. You are so hungry. Shall we get you another, and another, and another more?"
"Let's paint the countryside crimson and play a symphony of fearful cries to the stars, Sister," Connor said with a sad smile.
"Oooooooooooh," Dru sighed, pulling him up so the dead girl's body fell to the ground with a soft thud. "We shall have fun. Such lovely games. I know another fun game," she confided, leaning forward, voice low. "Shall I teach you?"
"What sort of game, Sister?" Connor asked curiously,
"A fun one," Dru said in a wicked whisper. "Blessed baby boy has so much, so much to learn."
"Tell me, then," he whispered back. "Tell me what this game is."
Dru took Connor's hands and lead him towards Traitor's Gate. Past the river and the sparse trees, the whole city of London lay like one open, bleeding heart. "Showing is telling."
"Then show me what fun is to be had, before they realise I've gone, Sister."
"Do you like little ones?" Dru asked. "With their little arms and little legs, and little, little hearts."
"I prefer them grown a bit, with recognition in their eyes that they're going to die, and nobody's going to save them."
"Then we shall get you some. Little ants, they're crawling everywhere. But we must be quiet. Shhhh! Or they will know you've gone."
"Silent as the grave," Connor murmured, with a wry smile.
Dru lead the way through the darkness. They slipped like shadows through the London streets, leaving empty-veined bodies dumped in alleyways. The neon glow of the London nightlife cast a pale, ethereal glow over their features. Her dead heart, and his live, both thudded in their chests from the bass of the music echoing out of the club Dru had brought them to. "Run and catch," she cooed.
Connor's eyes yellowed, though his face didn't change. One of the advantages of being alive, a different breed, one might suppose. He flashed a grin, sharp of tooth, and slipped in among the dancing throng.