Post by SUPERIA IGNISA REGALAS on Jan 29, 2017 5:10:54 GMT
Darkness deeper than night itself, than that of what little moonlight protruded from broken windows. A black mass of tendrils that slowly slithered across air. They wiggled and twirled as if sampling the very fear that came from the man. The man dared not look at what was behind him, for to look meant to let go of being Human. Of such great power or being, shapes and forms, long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity, of which poetry and legend alone have caught a flying memory and called them gods monsters and mythical beings of all sorts and kinds.
Preverbal madness, illusions formed from fear. The tendrils did not exist nor were hungry eyes yellow, but, rather, pale blue in hue. And within his hand, a simple knife coated in blood. A knife that would soon find itself logged into brain matter bone and flesh.
"Did you hear" And the scene changes to two days before. "About what?" Asked a girl before the start of class. "About the slasher. We're not allowed to stay out past seven." Yet despite warnings by teachers students and police alike, the blue haired teen who was warned to not venture out did so regardless. Yet The Slasher was not the only rumor that plagued the town. Clergymen butchered, buildings set aflame. The varying stories cycled time and again, changing form.
"Did you hear" And the scene changes to two days before. "About what?" Asked a girl before the start of class. "About the slasher. We're not allowed to stay out past seven." Yet despite warnings by teachers students and police alike, the blue haired teen who was warned to not venture out did so regardless. Yet The Slasher was not the only rumor that plagued the town. Clergymen butchered, buildings set aflame. The varying stories cycled time and again, changing form.
Superia, a young woman in her early twenties, took no delight in people's deaths. However, she enjoyed the hunt and chase. A thrill of testing her wit against criminals and the mysteries that no normal mortal understood excited her. Up against her right ear was a small radio. She listened to reports of a fire. It being the closer would become her target. So through varying alleyways she walked, wondering if she would run into The Clergymen Arsonist.
Alleyways were a good place to catch criminals, but also a dangerous place to be caught by them. Her manner of dress was one to give her the appearance of someone trapped in the past. Those around her, various scum of the underground, talked in their huddles and various boxes and trashcans acting as homes for the homeless. She dared not talk to them, nor did look directly at them.
Peering eyes glanced at the young woman's frame. And though she wore black jeans, a coat, and white sneakers, they desired something most perverse. "Ey'a their little girl." Spoke one man placing his hand on her shoulder. "Yea, where ya be head'un?" Spoke another in front of her. They were much larger than her, towering a good foot above the silent girl who stood still yet only looked down. Was she scared? Or was it something else?
