Lucianus Adair
Jul 19th, 2006, 02:22:56 PM
Whirrrrrrr...
In the far reaches of the cold unforgiving my truths have been shattered, banished to the room of my soul [that is believed nonexistent] housing the old document shredder. As much as I wanted to deny its happening [and as sure as blood spills with the thrusting of my blade, I did.], nothing could quench the fury with which I am overcome. I had been lied to - LIED to!! - And by the one and only being outside of myself that I had ever dared to trust unconditionally. Lied to, through the teeth masquerading as the pillars of truth. That man, long sentenced to the end, to the deep, had met with my relentless hand for lesser trespasses. For something so innocent compared to the betrayal that was stewing my mind. Now because of this, my vessel carries extra cargo, and my teeth grind. My hands shake with a fury that comes up being lusty in its intensity.
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It had started out as a simple hunt, meant to aid in calming the ravenous instincts of a Kpaur and his intense need for the hunt as a means to maintain his sanity. A few bodies stripped of any fashion of living; people that none was bound to miss; one night every quarter and then back to our regularly scheduled programming. And no-one knew at all where it came from, and where it went to, or for that matter, when it would return. How secretive indeed was the pacing of the predator.
Yet on this one particular night, it was not secretive enough.
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Earlier...
Blood on the hands…It is always nice. Good for the skin, too.
This was what that woman, that acquaintance of my first master had imparted to me. There is a manner of truth to it, though, but from the inside out. A great deal of the living population of the universe is blessed with the nectar that imparts said living. And fewer still of this population truly benefits in health from indulging in it. If it were not for the attractive scent that accompanies, I would bathe in it. But my continued existence, and my profession, depends on my remaining largely scentless.
Mars did indeed indulge when he could. The act of tearing an otherwise innocent and unknowing one limb from limb was part and parcel of who he was, who he is, and who he is to come. The very fabric of his being that would forever remain with him, as a Kpaur. At this very moment, in the dead of the bare morning hours, fell only the low whirring of business signs in condemnable disrepair on top of the tearing and spilling of a socially taboo dance. A normal man would get caught, cuffed, tried and sentenced to oblivion for what was deemed a travesty…but this predator was not at all a man, in conventional terms. The sight of such dismemberment would make any one deeming themselves ‘civilized’ retch, and likely pass out in a pool of their own vomit.
Anyone intelligent enough kept their beaks out of the alleyways, and minded their own business. As long they did so, the predator would mind his as well. Tonight, however, there was one that was minding his own business, except that his business was Mars himself. It was quite a gift to this man that one such as Phoenix Mars Whyte could not at all sense him, but it would be nothing short of a miracle if Mars could not smell him over the pooling of blood around the area. He had their mutual ‘father’ to thank for what advantages he had been given, that he might pounce, plunge, and drag off into the night.
A scuffle, a roar was heard, then nothing.
In the far reaches of the cold unforgiving my truths have been shattered, banished to the room of my soul [that is believed nonexistent] housing the old document shredder. As much as I wanted to deny its happening [and as sure as blood spills with the thrusting of my blade, I did.], nothing could quench the fury with which I am overcome. I had been lied to - LIED to!! - And by the one and only being outside of myself that I had ever dared to trust unconditionally. Lied to, through the teeth masquerading as the pillars of truth. That man, long sentenced to the end, to the deep, had met with my relentless hand for lesser trespasses. For something so innocent compared to the betrayal that was stewing my mind. Now because of this, my vessel carries extra cargo, and my teeth grind. My hands shake with a fury that comes up being lusty in its intensity.
--------------------------------
It had started out as a simple hunt, meant to aid in calming the ravenous instincts of a Kpaur and his intense need for the hunt as a means to maintain his sanity. A few bodies stripped of any fashion of living; people that none was bound to miss; one night every quarter and then back to our regularly scheduled programming. And no-one knew at all where it came from, and where it went to, or for that matter, when it would return. How secretive indeed was the pacing of the predator.
Yet on this one particular night, it was not secretive enough.
--------------------------------
Earlier...
Blood on the hands…It is always nice. Good for the skin, too.
This was what that woman, that acquaintance of my first master had imparted to me. There is a manner of truth to it, though, but from the inside out. A great deal of the living population of the universe is blessed with the nectar that imparts said living. And fewer still of this population truly benefits in health from indulging in it. If it were not for the attractive scent that accompanies, I would bathe in it. But my continued existence, and my profession, depends on my remaining largely scentless.
Mars did indeed indulge when he could. The act of tearing an otherwise innocent and unknowing one limb from limb was part and parcel of who he was, who he is, and who he is to come. The very fabric of his being that would forever remain with him, as a Kpaur. At this very moment, in the dead of the bare morning hours, fell only the low whirring of business signs in condemnable disrepair on top of the tearing and spilling of a socially taboo dance. A normal man would get caught, cuffed, tried and sentenced to oblivion for what was deemed a travesty…but this predator was not at all a man, in conventional terms. The sight of such dismemberment would make any one deeming themselves ‘civilized’ retch, and likely pass out in a pool of their own vomit.
Anyone intelligent enough kept their beaks out of the alleyways, and minded their own business. As long they did so, the predator would mind his as well. Tonight, however, there was one that was minding his own business, except that his business was Mars himself. It was quite a gift to this man that one such as Phoenix Mars Whyte could not at all sense him, but it would be nothing short of a miracle if Mars could not smell him over the pooling of blood around the area. He had their mutual ‘father’ to thank for what advantages he had been given, that he might pounce, plunge, and drag off into the night.
A scuffle, a roar was heard, then nothing.