Despite how deeply she could be gripped by intensity at certain moments, Crow was a patient hunter. Her partially invisible form stood in the shadows still as the ghost of a statue. Her eyes closed as she paid closer attention to her other senses, far off sounds, shifting scents. She waited.
Her eyes opened slightly before she heard the voice, because what curled silently through the fog reached her first. New, yet familiar. Strange, but recognisable.
And then if we spot someone who looks a little too interested, then we can surround ‘em and… Makoto had paused then. I guess we’ll see.
Crow had not responded then. She’d done this dance countless times before and there had only been one thing on her mind. It was in her mind now, a course of action hammered in through repetition. It wouldn’t be what Makoto wanted, some part of her knew this. Is it what would happen? I guess we’ll see.
Still, before anything they had to be sure. Crow was confident the scent had drawn this one in, she had even commented on it. Like a wraith she drifted through the fog, careful not to disturb it with her movements and draw attention. She was mindful of Makoto’s position, trying to manoeuvre herself so this one was between the two of them.
One hand held the grip of her sheathed sword, a blade that was as hungry as she was, deeply excited to take part in an old dance. Do it. Do it now. Why waste time. You know what it is. Why wait. Why wait. The sharp gauntlets of her other hand dug into her own arm, releasing more of that sweet scent into the air.
“Make what harder, exactly.”
Waiting isn’t Makoto’s strong suit. Sure, sometimes her line of work demands hours spent doing nothing but watching, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait too long before someone wanders in. A grin splits her face when she sees who it is.
“I knew it. I knew it,” she whispers to herself, smiling. Of course, it’s not like it’s a good thing she was right.
Makoto drops down from her own hiding spot at the alleyway’s other end, hopefully cutting off any escape routes. It’s possible Daki has some kind of ability that would help her make a hasty retreat, but she doesn’t seem the type to run away. Better to confront this head on and get it over with.
“Hey Daki!” she calls out. “Long time no see, huh? I had a feeling you had some dirty little secrets; not that you were really subtle about it.”
She steps a little closer, holding her hands out to show she’s unarmed. Despite the feelings she holds towards Daki, Makoto doesn’t want a fight. She’d rather talk it out, figure out some kind of middle ground that’s corpse-free. It all depends on Daki. And maybe Crow, by the smell of things.
“I’m not here to beat around the bush like last time,” she says. “I only have one question.”
“What do you know about the bodies that’ve been showing up in the red light district?”
For a moment, Makoto thinks she should’ve asked two questions. Who was this ‘we’ Daki was talking about?
She might be closer to the source than expected. Every whiff numbed her head, inviting her to get closer and closer --....
Till a voice interrupted her.
“Why are you asking if you already know the answer, idiot?” Tilting her head, a rather ironic smile decorated her lips. It was so absurd to play pretend, denying it will only make the situation more troubling. Eating was her main interest now that her appetite had awoken -- the alluring and lovely smell only deepened her hunger, as if the demon had no tasted flesh in several days. Wasting time did not benefit either party and so, she spoke cynically,
“Right, I’ll spell it for you. I did it.” It was not a lie but she was also taking more credit than deserved, as she wasn’t the only man-eating monster within the island. Of the few she knew, shoving the blame upon them was quite the cowardly tactic and some deserved more peace than the oiran herself. It was fine to pretend she was scarier and stronger, obtaining complete control of the red-light district was her aim at the end.
This could be of use, for sure. Beating such loving-justice idiots.
“Pfft, I should’ve eaten my leftovers... but it’s really hard for me... they all taste so bad... You know, old men aren’t delicious in the least. Their crummy old bones and elastic flesh, it’s suuuper gross.” Cupping her cheek as she spoke with an obviously fake high-pitched tone, Daki feigned sadness in her situation. “I’ve tried to be good but that’s not enough for ya’, right? What a pityyyy.”
Or not, she didn’t care in the slightest. Not if it concerned someone that she disliked. If they wanted to point fingers at the demon, she will gladly play the part and make it big.
“Can you scram now that you’ve got your answer, squirrel? I got business with someone else.”
kaledo-art
germansingergirl
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
blakekathryn
titsay
annaxmalina
