Comments | slayer_fray: [AU SANDBOX! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING IN ANY GAME AT ALL. NOPE]

slayer_fray

[AU SANDBOX! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING IN ANY GAME AT ALL. NOPE]

Mar 05, 2006 11:16

She storms into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

She's been raoming the streets for some time now. Had to wash off - oh god, all that blood - with a swim in the river. Had to be seen in places that weren't there. Had to separate herself ( Read more... )

soul!harth

Comments 24

harth_fray March 5 2006, 11:18:21 UTC

It is some time later when there is scratching at her window; the shape is thin, awkward-- fingers against the glass, nails clicking the pane.

"Mel."

He doesn't need to say more. He doesn't want to say more. He just wants to be acknolwedege.

It has been-- a trying time for the slender vampire on her windowsill; trying weeks that threatened to become months. Rats do not feed him well. Humans -- he's not off them yet, no, not strong enough yet.

Not guilty enough yet.

"Mel."

A ghost of a voice; not the confident timbre of The One Who Will Lead; the shivering uncertainty of Scardey.

slayer_fray March 5 2006, 11:24:02 UTC

She recognises that voice. She never thought she'd hear it again. And it hurts her more, cuts her deeper, to hear it instead of the mocking snark of the lurk.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she blinks the last of the tears out and looks up.

She wants to throw it open, invite him in, tell him she loves him, but it's been too long. They've tried to kill each other so many times. She can't trust him.

He's her brother and he has a soul, but she can't trust him.

"Hey you. How's it going?" The tone isn't light, but it tries to be, just as the grimace along her mouth tries to be a smile.

harth_fray March 5 2006, 11:26:55 UTC

"Oh, you know," he begins, voice muffled through the glass. "Spectacular spiritual torment, the realization of conscience after several years without, all my new friends smelling guilt all over me. 's a regular party, y' know? Totally rocketship. An eleven on the ten scale."

He always was sarcastic.

Humor falls lamely to the side, but he managese to curl into the window frame here, somehow keeping his skinny body up.

"You?"

slayer_fray March 5 2006, 11:30:04 UTC

She gives a small one-shoulder shrug, looking away.

"Just committed multiple accounts of murder. Y'know, as revenge for the rutters messing with your soul. It was surpisingly easy."

Thread 24