The Villain

What you find to be nightmares I see as sweet dreams, screams of agony are my lullaby, the sting of pain is as welcomed as a mother’s gentle touch. I have seen the fires of hell, spoken to He who reins over the condemned souls of the Earth, I have experienced death in more ways than someone like you could ever imagine.

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

Collette || Charles: Paying The Devil To Dance

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

It was perhaps, throughout the many years that Collette had graced Athoria & its men with her natural beauty & even more flourishing attitude when it came to how she preferred to be treated amongst males of higher standards, the first real & honest tease that she had ever encountered. & it wasn’t fair, yet it made Collette grin with a girlish smirk of her own in response to Charles’s body pressed seductively inside hers & the her pale skin tingled with the secretion of lust that her urges were so graciously handing to her. It was oddly acceptable, for Charles to be treating her as though she were a simple piece of eye candy & friendly face to have a nice chat with, & it only made Collette want him that much more.

She imagined what it would feel like, to have the dominating man looming overtop of her, rubbing at the places on her body that would make her cry out in sheer delight & fascination; to throw her around a bit & maybe she’d even let him play his own game of torture against flesh that was more than able to take the beatings. Charles was probably perfectly sculpted, with creases against his chest & arms in all the right places, & with a husky voice consumed with his own lust that would breathe against her ear words that were dirty & ravaging.

Well, what else was she supposed to think about at a moment like that?

Collette stayed pressed against the wall even when her desired moved away once more, more or less obviously flustered with her own sadistic & erotic smile grazing perfect lips. Fangs retracted back to their rightful place against her gums & Collette watched as Charles gazed over her handiwork with the tortured in the middle of the room.

“Tyrant? Whatever would give you that impression,” she said sarcastically, hands moving to her dress to tug it back to its rightful place against slender legs. “I’ve given you much work in the past, dear Charles, & I’ve always appreciated both your haste & durability when completing your chosen target. This will be no different, of course, except I don’t care what you do with it. Kill it, torture it, have your way with it, keep it as a slave…I just want it to know its place in this hierarchy of our species & to know that De la Nuit is above them. Eventually I’ll need the message to get back to their leader, one way or another, but its life I do not care about regardless,”

Collette walked forward to her captive, picking up his chin with her finger & gazing through his eyes as if she could see into his soul. “You’ve suffered enough today don’t you think?” & with a blink of an eye, Collette snapped his neck easily, & wiped her palms together nonchalantly. 

“Her name is Rebecca Anske, a warrior of Vargulf,”

[charles-ridgeway]

With every word, Charles' evil grin grew wider and more horrifying. Anything that he wanted. Closing his eyes he began to imagine the wide scope of possibilities, everything from skinning the pelt from this four legged weakling to yanking each sharp tooth from the gum, one by one. He shook in excitement, feeling his hair raise as the chills coursed under his skin. It had been quite a long time since he had been given full control in a job and he intended to make full use of this once in a life time opportunity. This would be an experience that neither Charles nor Rebecca would ever hope to forget. Nodding his head with far too much pleasure, he walked to the far wall of the dungeon and lifted a heavy sickle in his grip. He ran his finger down the sharp curve in a seductive manner, keeping his eyes trained on Collette as the sharp point dug into his finger. 

“Mmm, I love it when you talk business.” A line of bright blood dripped over his rough hand and down his wrist as he slowly stepped forward, “The way you cling to the illusion of control.” Stopping only several feet from his employer he lifted his finger to his lips, tasting the strangely familiar sensation of his own blood on his tongue. “It's adorable.”

With a flash in his red eyes, Charles turned and drove the sickle through the dead mans waist and out the other side. His hip tore away from the upper half of his body, hanging slack on one end while farther up the cut tendons and muscles fought to support the dead weight. Pinkish intestines slipped out of the open cavity with a sickening squish and hit the stone cold floor to splatter gore at the murderer's feet. Charles stood back up straight and flicked the weapon, shaking the blood from its edge and onto the exquisite dress and cheek of Collette. 

“It's a shame you had to kill him, this would have been fun to listen to. Oh well, I suppose I can take my frustration out on your friend Rebecca. I always did have a thing for torturing animals.”

He joked along with Collette but Charles was no fool, a werewolf was not a creature to take lightly. Especially one involved with Vargulf. Dominant pack animals were in tuned with their violent primal side, much as Charles was with his own. This would prove to be a unique experience for him, being brought to challenge a woman who was fully capable of protecting herself. Nothing like the sweet innocence he had grown so fond of. But if there was anything Charles liked more than destroying the pure essence of a young lady it was a woman who could hold her own in a fight. It was what had drawn him to Collette initially what with her fiery attitude and brute strength. But Collette was easily conquered with seduction and his ability to pass right through her if he so desired. It would be interesting to see what surprises this Rebecca Anske would bring his way.

[charles-ridgeway]

Welcome To The War || Charles & Casper

[casperharris]

Charles’ words had never left the phantom’s mind. They haunted him like persistant little beasts that had bit on to his head and refused to leave him alone. Not even in his sleep was he save. They invaded his dreams and showed him what Charles had claimed to be Casper’s real face. Nothing more than a bystander, he was forced to watch a crippled version of himself roam through the lands, destroying everything and everyone withing his reach until Casper violently woke up, sweating and breathing heavily. Other times his face seemed to warp into something that rather resembled a ill looking Charles’ with his prominent grin yet his features scarred and bloody with sunken cheeks. In the past few days he had racked his brain about the thoughts the elder phantom had planted in his head. Who was he really? Was it all nothing more than an act? Was he no better than Wisteria? Just a piteable hypocrit who in secrecy still seeked out the thrill the infamous deed brought about them. The only evidence to display his evil, the scars and disfiguartions of his face and crippled and limping statue of his body.

Since the day he had passed out in the streets of the Athorian slums, his arm had only gotten worse. He began to wonder if it would ever heal and almost contemplated asking Wisteria for her help.. but it was out of the question. Even though they had come to some sort of silent peace, Casper didn’t want to, again, crawl to her to fix his damaged body. He didn’t want her to know in which trouble he had gotten himself again.

Unlike his normally energetic mood and the need he always felt for action which drove him out and work on something, he spend a lot of time sleeping and nursing his arm. Only when he couldn’t stand to spend one more minute in his dark and broken house he left it in search for some sort of job that wouldn’t be too difficult for him to handle with only one arm and even earn some much needed money before he couldn’t pay the taxes anymore. It was annoying however, that almost everyone sent him away to better go and see a doctor instead but neither did he have the money to pay these charlatans nor did he dare to. They would only find out that he was a phantom and god only knew what would happen to him then. The risk was toohigh. Besides, what could they possibly tell him anyway. There was nothing he didn’t know already. His bones were broken, maimed in an horrible way and all he needed was time.

An old shirt now served him as a makeship sling to keep his arm in place and secure it from any unesseccary and painful movements. He was tired and felt worn out, most of the nights it was that damn limb to prevent him from sleeping more then just a few hours. It had become rather useless and Casper could barely lift it on it’s own, always requiring the assitance of his other, healthy arm. Casper sat in the front if his fire place enjoying the warmth that slowly embraced him, watching the crackling fire. The last few weeks it had gotten rather cold. Winter had settled over Athoria and felt the wind mercilessly blowing through every bloody whole in the rotten wood of his roof and his windows which were almost non existent. The phantom was constantly cold and it felt like he would never really warm up again. He was more glad than ever for the cloak Rebecca hd given to him it at least made it better to some degree.

A knock on the door made him loose his train of thought and he wondered who on earth that would be. With a grunt he got up eventually and put the sling around his neck again, dropping the blanket carelessly on the chair.

Seeing Charles smirking face after opening the door he froze, his expression changing into an unreadable mask. The useless limb started pounding again as his arm seemed to remember the moment his bones had snapped into half. Casper automatically secured the vulnerable limb with his other hand, waiting for him to say something. But nothing. All he did was to gesture him to follow him. Tilting his head Casper furrowing his forehead he eventually went after Charles before he was gone.

Casper kept his distance while they were walking in silence. His eyes fixed on Charles broad back he was wondering what the other phantom was up to, yet didn’t ask any questions. They kept on walking for quite some times, widening the gap between the two phantoms. He didn’t want to be surprised by some set up that Charles would lead him into, after all he was not to be trusted. Casper stopped right when the other man did, slowly approaching him while he kept an eye on his surroundings, his senses on alert.

„Why would I..“

It was completly Casper’s set principles to just run off to kill random strangers yet when he heard Charles snarky remarks about the King and his men, Casper pricked up his ears. These men where beyond innocent. Despite their claim to bring rightenousnesson to the land in favour of their king, but all they did was mindlessly follow him not doubting his commands even once. This time he had to agree with the elder phantom, if he wanted or not. Yet he maintained his defiant attitude on te outside even though it was him that wanted to learn from Charles. What was he supposed to gain from this? Being at the heart of a battle with a broken arm at that.

„How the hell am I supposed to fight with this?!“ Nodding towards the crippled limb. No, he would certainly not risk his life for something stupid like this and already wanted to turn on his heels. 

[charles-ridgeway]

Only now did Charles turn to get a good look at the boy; his eyes were distant sitting over dark circles, his skin had taken on a pale sickly color, and his arm hung awkwardly at his side. Casper looked awful. It was obvious that he hadn't been sleeping, kept up by internal conflict no doubt. The way he staggered along behind his giddy master, dragging his feet as he went, only accentuated the true nature of his species. All he needed was a low moan and the weight of chains and the townsfolk would run through the streets in horror screaming of ghosts and spirits. Charles chuckled at the sight, the way he gently held his wounded arm at his chest like a mother would a nursing child. The boy was pathetic, but he had courage. Why else would he have followed the man that had broken his arm only weeks prior out and away from the comfort and safety of his home? 

He recognized that look in Casper's troubled red eyes, back behind the confusion and rage that built up from his natural taste for rebellion. He was second guessing himself, wondering if the words this handsome and always wise elder was speaking were the truth when deep down he knew that he had many a time had these same notions. Constantly wondering if he was meant to continue these heinous acts or try and ignore the urge to do wrong. Charles himself had never bothered to ignore these terrible urges, not even as a child. He could not even hope to relate to what nonsensical worry was floating around in the head of his reluctant student. Casper was pathetic, yes. But soon he would learn to harness the power that had gone untapped within him. Soon he would grow into what he was meant to be, a powerful frightening creature.

“I never said that you were to fight, I said to observe. But hey, if you suddenly get the urge to run someone through I won't stand in your way. Just phase into the environment and watch as the king works these filthy mortals like puppets, you can make yourself invisible can't you? Don't tell me you're completely worthless.”

These mortals were all the same, they act sweet, kind, and polite but the moment one of their basic needs or beliefs are in danger and they revert back to primal vicious animals, snarling and snapping at the necks of men with contradicting beliefs. Sweet sweet chaos. The murderer did not, nor did he wish to, understand this craze going through the heads of new phantoms and why the so desired to be like the mortals, to find love, joy, and peace. Where was this joy that they spoke so highly of? Did it lie in the shadows of Leeds where men went to cheat on their wives? Did it flow with the dark red blood in the battle field? Did love, joy, and peace hide under the words of the king and his followers as they slaughtered supernaturals for no more reason than them being a bit different? No, there was no good to their kind. All these thoughts of happiness and love were nothing more than romanticized ideas holding no truth. There was no good to be found in men, it was not meant to be harmful but simply the truth. A truth that allowed Charles to roam through the country creating chaos and destruction, showing these mortals the truth that laid past the veils they put up to protect themselves.

“You will learn a very important lesson here today, boy. I want you to open your eyes, to really open your eyes and see what the world turns into when one man speaks. A few words. That's all it takes for them to set out to war. I'm sure you've seen the notes hanging around town; tell me, do you have any idea what this war is even about? No one does. Yet here they are...” Here the shouts of men in the distance Charles grinned like a child and scurried up the hill, pulling the loose branches but of the way to reveal a horrific scene. Men wielding swords stabbed and sliced with the dying cries of battle, limbs were tore from their joints, blood covered the green grass making it slick under the feet of the soldiers as they fought to the death for reasons unknown to them. “...killing one another like the animals they are.”

“Go. See the men, hear their cries. Watch as men turn into frightened boys and bravery to cowardice. You never know what truly lies in a person until their lives are on the lines. Go, watch the madness. Have a little fun for once in your miserable life and be yourself.” Charles winked at the boy, smacking his shoulder with enough force to throw him forward a bit, then phased. Breathing in the sweet scent of death and agony, Charles bore a devilish grin and raced off into the chaos that lay before them.

[charles-ridgeway]

Welcome To The War || Charles & Casper

Charles had been keeping an eye on his new student, watching as he came and went from his sad excuse for a home. Why he bothered to stick around in such a broken place was a mystery to him, perhaps sentiment. One of the many emotions he did not understand in the slightest. While he kept watch on the boy he had learned several pieces of information. One being that his pathetic student obviously did not know how to heal himself since his arm had been left to heal on its own, luckily for Casper one of the many perks of already being dead was that his body healed much faster than those of the mortals. Another was that when it came to his daily activities the boy was more than disappointing. Honest work for honest pay, though respectable in the eyes of the community, did not go well with the image he was trying to form for the lad. Finally, and probably the most interesting, Charles found that he was not the only one keeping watch on the young phantom. In the last week he had seen three different men come to watch the boy, following him everywhere he went and staying just a few steps behind. Assuming that these had just been hires from “Azazel's” gang, he shrugged it off. There were more important things to be concerned with at the present moment, such as the onset of war.

The streets were filled with the cries of mothers, sending their baby boys off to die for reasons that Charles could not have cared less about. Groups had gathered in the various churches and places of worship to pray for the protection of their husbands, sons, and fathers. Sadness, fear, anger it all flowed through the streets as the man happily skipped along towards Casper's residence, breathing in the distress as if it were a drug. He loved a good war. So much violence and death, the perfect place for the boy to cut his teeth and learn how the world truly was. Stronger men killing weaker men. That is all that the world was and all that it ever would be. Finding himself at the foot of the door, Charles knocked obnoxiously, pausing only a fraction of a second between knocks until the always irritable phantom had answered with a quizzical expression. Without a word of explanation, Charles motioned for the boy to follow him and turned on his heel, walking towards the forest that would lead him to the battle grounds. The elder phantom felt tingles of excitement running under his skin, already able to hear the clanging of swords and screams of dying men in their future. His voice was playful, speaking out without even bothering to check and see if the child was following him or not.

“Come Casper, we're going on a little trip. War has broken out in Athoria, isn't that exciting? The perfect chance for you to explore your deep rooted evil. You can kill anyone that you wish, Athorian or not. It doesn't matter in the slightest. Wander around the battle field and observe. I want you to see the world at its worst. To see what people turn into when their livelihood is threatened. Aren't mortals hilarious? One word from a man in a crown and they are off to mindlessly kill strangers without question.”

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

No, no, no, no. Casper repeated it like a mantra in his mind while he shut is eyes before the world. He felt the mans presens right in front of him, suddenly aware of every single hair on his body now tingling in fear. Charles radiated a cold, an evilness of the kind he had only once encountered before. He, again felt reminded of Jeremiah who had had a the same sick and twisted mind, enjoying the pain and fear of others just like Charles. Memories flashed before his eyes while he listened to Charles dark words, encoumpassing him like a thick fog. It all seemed so unreal. More like a nightmare; his own mind visualizing the true image of his self, who really was. Uncovering all the lies his life was build on and presenting him a version of reality he wasn’t ready to accept yet.

No. Could it really be that he was meant for nothing more than to be a soldier of Lucifer? A failure with the foolish hope that one day he would be a good hearted man; kind and honored by the people around him? It seemed like the truth he had always sensed but had never been able to quite grasp it until he had for the first time heard about the greater plan for his species, the cause of his mere existence. Lucifer’s army. If he hadn’t seen the fires of hell with his own eyes he would not have believed any of this nonsense. But he had and he had heard the screams, felt the darkness taking over his heart, his mind and  devouring everything around him. In a whole it had only been a few minutes that had, however, felt like an eternity. 

Eventually, Casper knees gave in again and he slumped down on the ground. With the impact of the fall the pain in his arm began to pound stronger and the young phantom convulved in the pain, carefully bringing his arm into his lap. For the first time he actually dared to take a look at his arm that. His eyes widened in shock at the strangely deformed limb. How was his arm supposed to ever heal again properly? A treatment, he could not afford. However, there was no time to worry about it right now, first he had to get away from this maniac. 

“Don’t you dare telling me I am like you. You are wrong. So wrong… so wrong.”

Casper’s voice had become weak and rough as he spoke. The dirt to which his words where directed favored the colour ash as it covered the dark pavement to hide it’s shameful sight from the word. To hide the poverty; hide the piss that polluted the streets of this godforsaken part of the country where his search for one of the apparently greatest demons had led him. Azazel had been his hope of getting at least some information about Lucifers plan that concerned the phantoms. It seemed, however, like Charles was more than willing to present the information on a silver plate for him.

“Information. I wanted information. I heard that he was working with Lucifer; an expertice when it comes to phantoms.” Casper teeth where painfully pressed together, his jaw already aching and feeding to his headache.

“Why? You speak so low him. Are you jealous? Is he better then you? Better than, Charles Ridgeway? Hm?”

A faint smile appeared on Casper’s bloody lips as he slowly lifted his head to face the other phantom in another attempt at foolish mockery.

[charles-ridgeway]

Although physical harm had always been one of his favorite methods of torture, it was nothing compared to psychological torture. Invading the mind and changing the course of a life with nothing more than a few fleeting words. It was challenging of course, but after years and years of practice Charles had grown a distinct fondness for such methods. The only problem was that he was never able to observe the lasting effects of his control, most of the humans he played with were weak and sentimental. They found solace in the promise of a forgiving God and took their owns lives in the hopes that such a benevolent creature would have mercy on them. He grew bored with the predictable fates of these mortals and instead went back to the sweet song of screams and pleading.

But now he had been presented with a glorious opportunity. A raw phantom with a clean slate, just out of hell and oh so impressionable. Charles was a frightening artist who had just been given a clean canvas, the possibilities were endless. With time, torture, and convincing he could mold this young creature into what a phantom should be. He had grown weary of the recent whelps that had somehow managed to drag their sorry selves out of hell. The lack of hatred and power was shameful given their abilities and amazing potential. To squander their gifts that were meant to inspire fear into every living soul that roamed the lands, and instead prance around pretending that they were still mortals with a choice. It was beyond pathetic in the eyes of the murderer. 

His mind had been made. Whether the boy had realized it or not, he had just sealed his terrible fate. This evening in the ally would prove to be the beginning of a long road to corruption. Charles grinned over the curled up body of the phantom who had been nursing his mangled arm, imagining all of the glorious things he could do to this weak little boy to turn him into a man. Into what he was always meant to be, a soldier fighting for the evil that ruled in a world so frightening that God himself averted his gaze. No longer would this child cling to the ridiculous notion of free will and happiness, it was time he learned the truth. There was no way that Charles was going to throw away an opportunity to harden one of the growing number of pathetic members of his species. After all, it only took one failure to change the image for the entire race. 

“What's your name, boy?”

Charles leaned over, grabbing the phantom's wrist and yanking his arm straight, smirking at the sound of bone clicking back into place. He dropped the limp appendage with little care and watched the broken bones wanting to shift back out, threatening to pierce the skin. Through it all; the pain, the fear, the doubt, this boy had struggled to keep up strong appearances. Even now, trembling in what must have been excruciating pain, he glared up at the murderer. A dark shadow crept across his face, his smirk turning cold and horrible as he looked forward to the day when that defiance would be replaced with fear and submission.

“Yes actually. Azazel, the real Azazel, is much better than me. He is a very powerful demon. Strong, smart, respected, Lucifer's right hand man. The very sound of his name sends a chill down the spines of those who've spent any amount of time in Hell. So you tell me young one. What would Azazel, Lucifer's go to demon, be doing running a tiny gang in the slums of Athoria? Hm? Why would someone as strong and powerful as Azazel give a single shit as to how much money they can rake in? How many rival gangs are killed? Or even what drugs can be trafficked in and out of Brailston? I'll tell you... he wouldn't. Why? Because it's not him.”

Charles stood up straight, slipping his hands into his pockets, and shrugged his shoulders. A look of shock had crept into the boy's eyes but there had still been a shred of denial clinging to his thoughts, hoping and praying that every word he spoke had been a lie. And although Charles was in fact a skilled liar, this time he spoke what he believed to be the truth. Not because he had any interest in helping this lost soul, but because he wished to instead claim him for himself. 

“Think about it. What has happened every time you've gone to meet with Azazel? Have you ever seen him? Heard him? Has there been anything, anything at all, to convince you that he is even involved with these earthbound demons? These guys know the fear behind Azazel's name, they know that new phantoms don't understand what has happened and they take advantage of that by promising you your freedom. I'll let you in on a little secret, there is no freedom. This. This right here, being a phantom, is the most freedom you are going to get from here on out unless God decides to welcome you back into his arms. I doubt it. Now you may be asking yourself, 'But Charles, if you know the truth then why are you working for them?' The answer is quite simple. I kill people, they pay me. I enjoy it.”

“If all you're seeking is information then you don't need to waste your time with these frauds. Come with me, I can teach you all that you will ever need to know about who and what you are. But if you're honest with yourself, you already know the answer to these questions. I know your type, even when you were alive you felt it. That you were different from the others. That no matter what good you tried to do people still looked down on you. You were always watching, learning, but you were never one of them. You probably fought, stole, tortured, maybe even killed. You've always been this way, boy. Why are you denying it? Tell me. Tell me the truth. That deep down, even though you try to deny it, even though you've never admitted it to anyone... you love it, don't you?”

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

The pain which shot through his arm as Charles applied more pressure to the twisted limb hurt like the stinging of a thousand needles that plunged into his flesh, simultanously. The nasty noises caused by the snapping of his own bones tormented his ears and made the hair in his neck stand on end. Casper screamed and squirmed under Charles treatment that almost resembled torture as he only very slowly moved his arm against the angle. His knees grew weak as he leaned against the cold stone for some sort of support. By now the young phantom had bitten his lip so hard blood began to drip from it as he tried to numb out one pain with another one. To no avail. His arms pulsed painfully as if he could actually feel it swelling as an effect of the injury. 

Casper’s heart rate had increased rapidley and he felt it was no longer possible to maintain his calm posture. The overwhelming pain that screamed in his mind was too loud to let him focus on anything else. His ears began to ring and Casper had to close his eyes for a moment to keep the wordl from spinning and slipping from under his feet. When he opened them again it was his opponsts glowing red eyes that looked at him as if he was some sort of fascinating experiment. Almost desperate, Casper tried to say something, to talk back, mimicing the strong man that he obviously wasn’t and never had been. 

Even in his youth, Casper hadn’t been much of a fighter. He had been an excellent thief, stealthy and quick, always successfull in his ambushs. Concerning hand to hand combat, however, he only knew the basics. He wasn’t trained or expierenced in the art of fighting. In gerenal, everthing he knew he had learned on his own. With no one to guide or educate him he had more than often had to expierence and learn things the hard way. There had never been someone to tell him how to sever right from wrong. What Casper knew, Casper had picked up on the streets by observing people and imitated them on his way to try and become a better person. A better version of himself. 

Everything was nothing but a blur to Casper, the only thing he could perceive being the pain in his arm as he got thrown down into the dirt. It was his fault. He had brought this on himself with the foolish attempt of trying to come across as strong. He should have taken the smarter but cowardly way out of this, should have walked away when he still had had the chance to do so. The words that the elderly phantom spoke where these of biterness a cruel perception of what was reality in the other phantom’s eyes. What was presented to him the was a harsh truth that Casper had always tried to denied and even now refused to accept. He blieved into his freedom and clinged to it. There was happniess even for someone like him. All he had to do was to finally cut all the bonds that held him bac; that associated him with evil and cut the last connections to his past. Thus, ridding himself of everything that once had been his life, his character by adapting values that weren’t his own. 

To preserve at least some dignity, Casper crawled back to the wall and sat himself up while his injured arm hang from his side in a grotesque manner; like a lifeless thing that had been stuck onto his body. He wanted to get up and challenge Charles who now looked like some evil demon standing above him as if he was nothing but a maggot that needed to be crushed. In an last uproar he bit his teeth together and pushed himself up against the wall; tears forming in his eyes as he silently endured the pain that send one shockwave after another through his body. Casper cringed, his legs shaking and pearly sweat forming on his forehead to glisten in the faint and rising moonlight.

“I don’t care about your manic talk about Lucifer’s army. Where is it? I don’t see an army.  And I may not be as strong as the almighty Charles Ridgeway but I do have values. And I will fight for them. There always is a way out. There is a way to change who you are. I don’t believe in this twisted fate you tell me about.” 

The young phantom breathed heavily and threw his head back as yet another relentless wave of pain shook his body. Squeezing his eyes shut he waited for it to pass before he could continue. Suddenly, he wasn’t so confident anymore. Ever since he had been back to roam the earth, people had turned against him, fought him no matter how hard he had tried to be good person. To be one of these heros attired in shining armour and earning the admiration of thousands. But even this image had been nothing but a lie. It had been the knights, these men who were supposed to fight to protect the land from crime and corruption, who eventually got him hanged for a murder he had never comitted. What if Charles was right? What if there was no happiness for him? Not in this life, not anywhere else.

“I don’t care for whatever reason he brought me back. I am not going to fight for him. I have people that I care for…” 

Casper stopped. Although refusing to let Chales words infiltrate his mind for they were nothing but poison, he had to admit that there was really no one to stand by his side. The only person he had ever cared for, had mindlessly betrayed him in an act of pure selfishness. Casper shock his head in denial while his gaze was fixed on some invisble spot beneath his feet, trying to find a reason that was worth fighting for.  

“Nothing but lies. I will find Azazel and I will find a way to free myself from Lucifer. I don’t want to be a part of this vile species that brings nothing but destruction to the world. I won’t hurt the people I care for. No one will make me do that. And they care for me. They always have and always will.. You are nothing Charles Ridgeway. You are the fool in this. You don’t see the truth. You’re just a lunatic. Your words mean nothing.”

[charles-ridgeway]

The distorted expression of fear and pain on the young phantoms face filled the murderer with excitement. Fear was like a drug for him. The look, the smell, the very feel of the essence as it secreted from his victim's trembling bodies. If he broke this addiction down to its primary elements, it was not about the blood, the pain, or even the sex. Although these things did make the experience even more enjoyable. It was the fear. Watching lives filled with a variety of emotion flash before in their frightened eyes. Seeing them relive old memories and feelings that he as incapable of experiencing first hand. It was amazing, watching the last moments in their eyes. Seeing how they change from anger to fear. Starting out with their dignity and humanity only to revert back to the most primal instincts for survival.

He watched as the boy struggled to pull himself up, fighting to stay strong in the elder's presence but failing to accomplish such a difficult task. What an ignorant child; spewing his beliefs, denying the facts, voice becoming intense with defiant purpose. But again, Charles saw the truth. A seed of doubt had been planted in his mind. He grinned watching the conflicting thoughts run wild behind those young red eyes.

“Where is it? Look around you. You're in it. This is the planning stage kid. Preparation. We're the laying the ground for whenever the hell He decides to come back up here for a show down. As for your values, your morals. What's the point? Who are you trying to impress? God? God has turned his back on you, he cast you away to the fiery pits of hell. And these people that you claim to care for. You think they give a shit about you? Why should they? You're nothing but failure. A lost soul who has already had his judgment.”

Charles shook his head, genuinely confused as to why this was so hard to accept for the young phantom. All this talk about values and wanting to be free of this life. It was puzzling. Charles had seen Hell. Even for a man that had difficulty showing or feeling an emotion such as fear he had never been more terrified in his life. Pain had always been exciting and sexual but while under the control of the dark masters in that horrible place he found no enjoyment. Only horror and excruciating pain. When Lucifer had offered his release back into the world of the living he had literally lept at the opportunity. Anything to get out of that place. Becoming a phantom was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Being free to wander around as he pleased, able to kill, rape, steal, anything that he wanted without fear of being punished. In fact, it was encouraged. So why did this boy shy away from such a glorious opportunity when he himself saw it as a blessing?

“This is your reward for the life you've led. A way to finally give into your dark urges and have no fear for the consequences. You can finally be who you've always been deep down. You don't have to hide it anymore. There's no one to impress.”

Slipping his hands in his pockets he walked over to the child, more interested in him than anything else. He bent over slightly to be at eye level with the younger phantom and tilted his head in confusion., wondering what is was like to have this crippling emotion of doubting one's self.

“I don't think you realize what a gift this is. Deep down you are as sick and twisted as I am. You know how know that? Because look where you are. Something got you into hell. And even more than that, Lucifer saw something in you that He liked. Otherwise he would have tossed you aside with the others, but he didn't. No. He brought you back. He saw in you what he saw in me and every other phantom roaming the land. Absolute... evil. It's not a bad thing. Some people just aren't meant to be good.”

Charles rolled his eyes at the mention of Azazel. This boy was full of interesting surprises, not nearly as boring as he initially thought him to be. Finally, a fun new toy to play with. “Azazel, Azazel, Azazel... how did you get it in your head that this "Azazel" person would or even could help you?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he spoke the name, finding it hard to believe that this boy actually thought such a person to exist. Were people really this gullible? 

[wisteria-scoher]

It's innocence when it charms us, ignorance when it does not||Charles&Wisteria.

[wisteria-scoher]

Her sprint towards the exit of the house was stopped by a sharp pain at the back of her head. Her skull felt as if someone had sent an arrow through it, several colours exploding before her eyelids for a split second as she fell to the floor, her cheek meeting the wood hardly.“Run,” she told herself, “RUN.” But her body refused and failed her, as it always seemed to do in the most dangerous of situations. The footsteps rang into her ear, slowly making their way to her. The sound alone drove her body in a frenzy, yet her muscles remained limp.

Wisteria was but a rag doll in his grasp, hopeless and weak, with a mind that ached and could not even produce a spell. Not even a simple one. Useless. A witch needed to be one with her energy, with the environment around her. A witch was her energy, her magick. She could not fight him off physically of course, yet she tried to as she felt the cold surface of the knife against her cheek. She wriggled around, dug her nails into the arms that straddled her, but it was to no avail. 

Panick overtook her, an even stronger one than before. Of all the people she’d met so far, this man was definitely the most wicked. The look in his eyes, the look of pure hunger wasn’t like any she’d seen before, not even in the eyes of vampires. He had no reason to kill her, yet he seemed to gain some perverse satisfaction in threatening her with death. Had she really thought that face handsome before? Now, it seemed like the face of the devil, the face of hatred and all that was evil. 

And Wisteria was afraid. God, she was afraid. She’d never felt this panic, this fear before. Her lower lip trembled. She didn’t want to die. She feared death and what laid beyond. She hadn’t even lived her life yet, only a fraction of it. She didn’t want to die unhappy, with no hope for the future and the bitter aftertaste of her past. She needed to live to see another day, when things would get better.

Her eyes tried to find the slightest bit of guilt, of any emotion at all, but the red of the phantom’s eyes were the only thing she could decipher. The smile on his face didn’t fit, it was too young, too happy. A smile one would reserve for happy events, for sunny days. Not for blood and death.

“Who are you? Why me?“ Her lower lip continued trembling. “Let go of me. Please, I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” Her head spun and her stomach turned. Winny trembled. She imagined that no one wanted to die, that he had heard it all before. Her pleas would fall on deaf man’s ears, no doubt. Yet she tried. “I promise. Anything.” She just wanted to curl up beneath her sheets and pretend that all of this was a nightmare. That this man didn’t exist, but was fragment of someone’s wicked imagination. 

She just wanted to go home.

[charles-ridgeway]

The once spirited girl now lay limp under his control. She peered up to him from behind frighted eyes begging for him to release her back to the lie that was her freedom. But the murderer only grinned, brushing her hair back from her brow with a gentle touch as she begged him in a sweet pleading voice. He had been hoping for more of a fight from her but she was now clay in his hands, allowing him to do as he wished with her. He teased the edge of the blade over her throat, tilting it back and forth until a tiny stream of blood began to drip down her slender neck to meet with the puddle forming from the wound to the back of her skull.

She had promised him anything he wanted. Anything. One word a young woman should offer to no one. This, aside from the last of the light leaving their eyes, had been his favorite part of the kill. The stage where his victims gave up all hope for fighting their way to freedom and lay motionless in his wake with big eyes and whispered pleading. And this girl was no exception; her lip trembled in fear, her eyes filling with tears with every slight nick from the blade. 

"Anything?"

Charles positioned himself more comfortably on top of her, running his free hand over her flat stomach and small breasts. "So if I tell you to beg me for it, you will?"

Tracing the tip of the blade down her chest to the top of her dress he lightly tugged at the fabric, beginning to cut through the material. "If I say undress, you'll do it?"

He rocked his hips against her small body and leaned down placing a soft, almost tender, kiss on her cheek as he whispered down to her with lust infecting his voice. "If given the command to scream for me, you will cry out until your voice cracks?"

Pushing himself back up with the knife back at her red stained throat, he looked down to her with a disappointed smile. "You would give yourself to me just like that to save your pathetic life? Hm, maybe you're not as innocent as I thought you to be."

Charles Ridgeway had a frightening obsession with both causing and receiving pain. There was not much that compared to the agony inspired screams of physical torture. If there had been anything to top this undeniably amazing sensation, it was not physical pain, but mental. Any brainless idiot could pick up a blade and injure someone. The wounds bleed and scar but soon enough they are forgotten. Mental trauma was something much more sinister, it haunted its victims for years sometimes never leaving them to their sanity. A horrible smile shone down at the frightened girl as a new game arose in his mind. 

"I could tell you to lay still and let me have my way with you, but that is much too easy. What is your name child? Tell me my dear what do you have to offer me? Make me a deal. If I like it I might just let you go. If not.. well. Use your imagination." 

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

Collette || Charles: Paying The Devil To Dance

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

Those wonderfully erotic & most difficult controlled urges, that even an elder specie of Collette’s stature could struggle with, raced through empty veins of dead blood &, if it were possible, brightened the cheeks of pale skin against her face. She watched with enticed blue eyes, sparkling with a natural lust that secreted easily, as Charles moved about the room in which her hostage remained hanging now almost lifelessly from the ceiling. The phantom was, perhaps, the most gorgeous man she had ever crossed paths with; & that was saying something, having been married in a past life & practically betrothed to Michael for a handful of centuries.

But no, Charles was different in a more seductive way. His shoulders were completely squared & he was tall, with a long torso that Collette only imaged to be a perfect display of how the male body should look. She watched as he moved, the swiftness in his short steps reflecting his experience as a hunter & how the corners of full lips were consistently curled into the most cockiest grin Collette had ever seen. She imaged tracing his jaw with her nail & down a dominant neck, digging at the tender skin there & spilling the tiniest bit of his blood. 

Collette’s skin tingled as she had turned to watch her company & ran her thumb against her own lips, catching her dripping red substance & licking it with a matching red tongue. Men hadn’t exactly been a part of Collette’s plans as of recently, since Calvin in particular, & she had been okay with that. Her committee were bothering her about other affairs in Athoria & De la Nuit’s actions towards them, affairs that needed to be addressed apparently. 

It was mostly about where King Athor had run off too.

Since Asa had conveniently invited Collette to her fighting event (something that Collette knew had an underlying intention when it came to see who was who in Athoria in relation to their matching kindreds), the queen herself was on a newer mission. It involved a specie completely opposite of her own, & one that she hadn’t associated with in about a century.

“Oh I need to be punished, alright,” 

She wished Charles wasn’t so distracting from, like he had noted, the real reason why she had summoned the murderer. His skin alone was inviting to sink threatening teeth into & that smirk of his wasn’t helping to calm the lust that soared through Collette like fire.

“I have something for you to do for me, if you don’t mind. I’ll pay you what I normally do & if you’re lucky, maybe you can get something a little extra afterwards,” Collette leaned her back against the wall & with one finger twirled a delicate piece of blonde around it. “Then you can take your sadistic, dominating, & fascinating release out on me,”

[charles-ridgeway]

“Oh. So you are giving me permission, Miss Markham?”

Abandoning his whip to fall carelessly on the floor, Charles' red eyes trailed over the woman's body. Taking his time to wander over her curves. Any man who could look over the beauty that stood lustfully before him and feel no attraction to her clearly was not right in his head. With her round hips, tiny waist, and perfectly sculpted breasts her body was comparable to a fictional goddess, not bad for an old woman. And though Collette did not meet his standards when it came to “the perfect woman” he could not deny that he felt some form of lust after her, a sentiment he shared with most men he assumed.

“That takes out half the fun.”

The phantom slowly approached the woman, eyes everywhere but her own, to roughly run his hands up her hips, pulling the skirt of her dress up a bit as he leaned against her. Pushing her back into the wall he wrapped his arms around her waist and forced her against him, his bright red eyes looking deep into her blues with a frightening yet enticing smirk. Only just brushing their lips together he licked what bloody residue had been left over on her lips off of his, digging his nails into her smooth skin. Charles' grin widened and he merged his cells into hers, taking a step froward as he phased the lower half of his body into the soulless vampire.

“You've always wanted me inside of you, haven't you Collette? Tell me, is it everything you imagined?”

With a light laugh the man took several steps back with a Cheshire grin, slipping his hands in his pockets while he playfully sauntered around the dungeon listening to the melody of tortured screams and cries for mercy. Such a lovely sound. It made him regret not coming to Collette's play date sooner. Leaning up against the wall behind the dying prisoner, Charles glanced over the open wounds decorating his near mutilated back, nodding in approval.

“Alright, alright. Work before play, you tyrant. So what's this job? Do I get to kill someone? Torture? Threaten? Your wish is my command milady.”

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

Much faster than Casper had even been able to look or focus had Charles, in a matter of seconds rushed towards him with incredibly fast and agile movements. Charles had already grabbed his wrist and pushed him against the concrete wall before his brain had even started to process the influx of information to put up a fight. Hence, there was nothing to prevent impact that shoot a sharp pain through his body. The rough structure of the the brick scratched against his cheek as he averted his face to protect his nose which, however, caused a sharp edge of the brick to cut along his temple. Casper could feel the warm blood as it slowly ran down his face. Once more the air had been pressed out of his lungs and left him gasping, struggling under the grip of the other phantom.

A scream vibrated against the wall and he could feel his own hot breath like steam on his face as it turned into a mask of pain and horror. Casper grunted and tried to free himself from the relentless grip. To free his arm which was now horribly twisted and about to break if he wasn’t careful. His body tensed up in a last attempt desperate attempt but the phantom had to accept his defeat in this one. Every time he moved it only earned him more pain and he feared his bones might snap in half with every further move. 

“Let go of me!” He brought out between his breaths short and muffled breaths.

Every bit of the man, every word, every action displayed his incredibly big ego. It made him sick. Casper was certain that there were much more stronger phantoms out there. And it was only a matter of time until he would fall. Until his disgusting pride would turn against him, destroy him until he was nothing more than a pile of dust. And he would be there to watch. Casper would watch and laugh, that he swore to himself.

“Oh yeah? What are your amazing talents? Getting mad because and apparent weakling like me is getting in your way? Maybe you’re just afraid that I could dispute your status. Maybe you are not that great afterall. Nothing but bold words.”

Casper bit his lip in pain and closed his eyes; silently pleading Charles would just break his bones. It would probably hurt less than that. However he would not beg this man. Not for anything. He would not surrender his dignity to this maniac.

“You need to calm down. You are lucky. The only thing I want from them is to speak with Azazel. I don’t want to be a part of Lucifer’s army. I want my freedom. I won’t fight for his evil cause. So, let. Go. Of. Me.”

[charles-ridgeway]

This boy spoke big, but underneath all of the talk and cockiness his voice hinted at the fear brewing in his chest. It was a sound that the murderer was not only accustomed to, but made a point to look for in each of his victims. Given of course that this boy was not his preferred choice of prey, but to deny someone offering themselves on a silver platter would have been careless. Waste not, want not. The only exception to this rule being Collette Markham, who was too much fun to tease with his broken promises of pain and pleasure. 

Charles leaned against the phantoms arm, grinning like a mad man at the sound of bone beginning to crack under the pressure. He gently brushed a lock of hair out of the boys eyes and tilted his head to see the pain and fear twisting together behind those red irises. He was like a small dog. Full of courage in the face of fear, yapping and nipping at the ankles of someone who could end its life in one hard stomp. More irritating than hazardous, posing little to no threat to against its master. 

“You sound pretty confident for someone whose arm is about to be snapped in half. Say all you want, but try as you may your angry words can only mask your fear. Not only can I see it in your eyes, I can feel it spilling off of you. I can smell it. I hear it in your voice. You’re afraid. And you should be.” 

His voice had become soft, a taunting whisper that held almost seductive tones as the child’s arm bent under his control. As of late, Charles’ life had admittedly grown to be a bit dull in his eyes. Everyday it had been the same routine, the same deaths, the same orders. With a man whose resistance to boredom was uncommonly low, such a schedule had brought him to a place in his mind where the man should never tread. The last time he had gotten bored the result had caused the brutal deaths of three young woman and their suitors, simultaneously. Horrible thoughts of dismemberment and bloodshed filled his mind as his considered what he could do to this boy and what acts would replace those snark remarks with screams of agony. The thought alone made his tremble with excitement. 

Pushing his body against the younger phantom he grinned, feeling the bone snap under the force and twisting his wrist back and forth so that the fragments of bone scraped together under the skin. Though he preferred those of the younger female variety, the sounds that came from the lips of this boy were unlike any other he had heard. Desperate, riddled with pain, and a hint of rebellion as he fought to appear strong in the eyes of his attacker. Finding that he could have more fun with this amateur by keeping him alive, Charles dropped him to the ground with an amused laugh.

“Azazel? Freedom?” Charles continued to laugh, tears coming to his eyes as he ridiculed the phantom. “You don’t want to to be a part of His army. You don’t want to. And you think Azazel can help you get out? Oh my, my, my. You aren’t only young you’re a fool! This is hilarious, let me get this straight. You think that you actually have a choice? You think that you can walk out whenever you want and that’s the end? HA! Boy, let me tell you something. I know it’s hard for your tiny little brain, but pay attention. You might learn something.”

“Let’s pretend you’re not stupid for a second okay? Think logically. You die, you go to Hell, you meet Lucifer. A being that rules over Hell and is slowly forming an army in the land of the living. Now.. here’s where the thinking part comes in, why would this all powerful being of Hell bring anyone back to this world. Hm? From the goodness of his heart? You think he took pity on you? No. He’s recruiting dumbass. Collecting those with potential and sending them out into the field to train first hand, spread the word that He exists and that with the snap of His fingers he could have an army in position to destroy this pathetic world. There’s no happiness. There’s no getting out. This is your life now, boy. A soldier for Lucifer. And if you don’t like that, then that’s too goddamn bad because you know what? You had your chance at everlasting happiness and you blew it buddy. You went to Hell. Welcome to the war.”

[martitasovereign]

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

 The young phantom glared at Charles as if he was hoping to leave to some expression, that he was more than just a boy. Clenching his fists in anger Casper wished to just smack the mocking smirk out of the other phantom which had introduced him as Charles. The way he looked down on him like he was some unworthy kid who needed to be scolded. Casper had to remind himself not to make the same mistakes as he had so many years ago. This same anger and cockiness had gotten him into many dangerous situations which could as well have cost his life and had eventually. This was not the time to let the foolish kid inside of him take over. Not the time to get into a fight with an apparently ederly phantom against whom he didn’t stand a chance at all.

Casper closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure again as to not provide him with a target to tease him again. It was probably better to just walk aways while he still had the chance. Nothing was holding him back. His opponent only stood there and watched him with an interested look. His eyes radiated evilness. He was the kind of guy mothers told their children about at night, warned them about to not cross any hidden alleyways alone for one never knew what could wait behind the next corner for it always must be someone like Charles. A murderer as which he introduced himself as if it was a title to pride himself on. The Angel of Death, apparently. 

“The Charles Ridgeway? How come I’ve never even heard your name before?”

With his introduction Charles had brought it to the boiling point and the young phantom had forgotten all of his previous intentions to not do something silly. If it weren’t for his red menacing Casper probably would have alerady started a fight. Here in the slums no one would even take notice of the two. It was alarmingly ordinary how much these kind of things happened in this area of Athoria. The common people often just looked away and pretended it was just a dark spot on the map. If they could they would probably destroy it in a second for it was a shame for the whole country. 

“Do you want me to bow in front of you now? .. Your Highness?”

Casper crossed his arms in front of his chest and took on a more upright stance while a faint smirk appeared on his lips. 

“What do you want, Charles Ridgeway?”

[charles-ridgeway]

Charles smirked down at the young phantom, enjoying the look of hatred burning in his eyes. He really had no idea to whom it was he was speaking, a man who took pride in the creatively heinous murders that had turned Brailston upside down in a panic. It was something he took much pride in, even if this child had claimed to not know his name. Time heals all wounds they say, but thanks to his being resurrected by Lucifer he could make up for lost time and continue what in his eyes was an art form. Every scream, gag, and gush of blood was a brand new experience that he cherished as fond memories, his very favorite victims having found a permanent place on his body in the form of a tattoo. Whether his name had carried on through the years or not was of no concern to him for now he could write himself through history once more. Just as he had been for the last 127 years, be it a bit differently than when he was alive but becoming a phantom allowed him to cause chaos and destruction in a way he never thought possible.

"Everyone has heard of me, boy. I am the chill that runs up your spine when you are afraid, the nightmares that plague the sleep of innocent children, I am all that is evil and wrong with the world... and not half bad to look at if I don't say so myself."

What a sarcastic boy this was. The murderer began to wonder what it was that made him so damn cocky. He must have known that he was in the presence of greatness, it practically poured off of him after all, so where did a young and obviously inexperienced phantom get off playing smart to an elder? 

"If you feel you must bow, I wont stop you."

He may not have physically looked like a boy but after so much time spent roaming the lands as a phantom, Charles had grown to identify an experienced phantom from one straight out of hell. And this child looked, acted, and spoke as if he had been spit out of the fires not even a month ago. It was irritating, yet at the same time fascinating. Unfortunately for the boy, with the more he spoke the less fascinating he became and brought Charles to dark state of boredom. Somewhere that no living creature would ever wish to be caught; because when Charles got bored, he became insatiably violent. In the time it took for the other phantom to blink, Charles had grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm around to slam his chest into the brick. He pinned the boy against the wall and pulled his skinny arm up against the angle, adding enough pressure that the bone threatened to snap in half. 

"What do I want? Well for starters, how about why you are even involved with this gang? You're obviously no comparison to my amazing talents, so what do they want with you? I'm surprised you can even phase to be perfectly honest. Or better yet, why the hell would Lucifer bring a weakling like you back? What purpose could a helpless child serve in His army?"

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

With a hollow sound, Casper’s feet dropped into a unsteady stand after the other phantom had released him. The lack of air caused him to feel slightly light headed and weak on his feet which made him seek support in the cold wall behind him. With his back once more pressed against it the feeling of Casper feeling of being tapped emerged in him. And even though he could technically have taken the cowardly way out of all this and use the abilities he had been gifted with as a phantom to dissolve in the air and go unseen by anyones eyes. Yet he didn’t. Whilst scared of his attacker who kept him here for reasons that still were a mystery to him, Casper stayed. Maybe it was his strength that left quite an impression on the young phantom coupled with fear of what he might do to him. It was strength like his Casper wished he possessed so he would at least be a match for other supernaturals. He didn’t always want to be on the short end.

Gasping for air, Casper leaned against the wall unable to speak for the moment which only seemed to feed the image of a frightened child that couldn’t stand up for himself. But he wouldn’t scream for help, no, nor would he give up here. Back in the old days when he had still been a boy he had always been the best in his gang, save for maybe Jeremiah but he didn’t count. Among the humans he had been the one to sew fear in their minds, making them show their respect. He had been their leader and no one had dared to challenge him or his position. So far he had always prided himself on being the best at what he did all the more frustrating was it now for Casper to know be as weak as he appeared to be. Not knowing how to control his given powers properly.

Casper hands ran along his aching throat, coughing a few more times until he finally found his voice again. The way his attacker grinned and the crazy look in his eyes reminded him very much of Jeremiah. The thought alone was enough to make him shiver. Casper, however was sick of loosing all the time. He had lost Wisteria, had almost been killed by a human and gotten involved with this stupid gang who made him do the dirty work and play by their rules. This guy would not ruin his day. He was probably just a bragger anyway. The phantom bit his teeth, composed himself and growled at the other man’s words. Knowing that he saw him as nothing more than a mere child made him incredibly angry. Casper phased through the wall behind him and reappeared behind his attacker. 

“Well, I have my reasons and they are none of your fucking business. Who are you even?” 

[charles-ridgeway]

Hearing a growl come from the boy at his feet inspired a genuine laugh from the elder phantom. What a sight this was to behold. An inexperienced thief, nothing more than a boy really, slumped against a wall and growling at a century old master who could destroy him in less time than it took to say 'God save the Queen'. Charles crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the boy whose eyes now held the look of a cornered animal. Such an interesting specimen. Any creature living or dead that had been caught in his web normally cowered in fear or ran for their lives. But this one was different somehow. Trespassing onto his turf, stealing jobs out from under him, and now roaring in challenge at his feet. Had the man not been so incredibly curious he would have knocked the kids fucking head off by now.

"Ohhh, did I strike a nerve?" He sang playfully.

Charles chuckled and rolled his eyes as the other phantom phased into the wall. Well, he at least knew one trick. Perhaps he wasn't completely worthless after all. With as much spunk this young phantom possessed he had better have some sort of skill to back it up with. Otherwise his cocky attitude and smart mouth would get him nowhere but a second trip to the grave. Charles felt the boys presence appear behind him and smirked in amusement, more than interested in what exactly this boy thought he could accomplish here in the alley. But, instead of spinning around and sinking his blade into the eye socket of this child, he chose to stand his ground and simply wait, turning around to face his kin. Possibly even to encourage a reaction from the temperamental phantom. 

"Didn't your daddy teach you to respect your elders, boy? Or maybe he just didn't beat the manners into you hard enough. I could give you a lesson or two."

Charles winked down at the fuming child and shrugged his shoulders, grinning with pride as he introduced himself. "You are speaking to the Charles Ridgeway, better known to the pathetic humans of this country as the Angel of Death. Serial killer, evil mastermind, hit man, incredibly attractive and all around nice guy. The pleasure is all your's I'm sure. So, show some respect." 

[wisteria-scoher]

It's innocence when it charms us, ignorance when it does not||Charles&Wisteria.

[wisteria-scoher]

“Now why would I ever wish to do such a thing?”

Air, she needed air. Her feet moved around as her grip on his arms, which she’d held so tightly in an effort to stop him, loosened. Her sight became blurry as her lungs started to ache from the lack of oxygen. She could already feel her energy leaving her body, her muscles contracting painfully. Blinking her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. The man’s lips against her cheek, his arms around her and his arousal present.

She refused to die like this, she refused to let him get whatever he was after.

With her now bare back pressed against the wall and the adrenaline soaring through her veins, she fought to keep her mind clear, her life hanging on a loose thread. Even if she’d been able to scream, she wouldn’t have, simply because that was what he’d asked her to do. Wisteria thought about everything she’d ever learned. She needed to use her surroundings, yet her sight was blocked by the cruel smile of the phantom.

In a last desperate effort to live, she muttered something inaudible. It didn’t have the effect intended, as she’d wanted to ceiling to collapse on top of him. Instead, the floor they were standing on finally gave in, the sound of wood breaking and splintering almost deafening to the ear.

Wisteria felt the wood give in beneath her feet, felt herself falling down, yet the impact with the floor of the room below them still surprised her. She didn’t know where the man was, only that his hands had left her body. Coughing, she pressured her body in standing up. Her legs were unsteady as she manoeuvred between the bits of wood on the ground. Looking up, she saw the hole in the ceiling. No man.

Though she knew any delay could prove to be fatal, she still leaned her hand on the wall of the home and coughed. She let her lungs get used to the air again, as she collected the energy she’d need to make a run for it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[charles-ridgeway]

The floor cracked and moaned under the murder's feet, leaving him to question the cause of such mysterious noises. With an irritated groan, he left the comfort of his victims neck to glance back down to the floor when the weak beams of wood suddenly gave out from under them. Charles released the girl and quickly phased through the splintering planks, levitating his body to keep from crashing down with the young woman. The whole house felt odd, wired. Comparable to a tree having been struck by a bolt of lightening. It was an energizing feeling and he realized that it was centered around his brown eyed beauty, who now lay in the rubble of what must have been her own defense.

A witch. She had to be. How incredibly interesting, a woman who could actually put up a fight. A playful yet horrifying smirk played across his lips as he watched his prey pull herself up to stand on wobbly legs. Her hair fell astray, bits of wood and rock dust hiding in the delicate curls of her flowing hair. Even through the eyes of a sane man, this young woman was still undeniably gorgeous despite being in a distraught state of shock and fear. Red eyes wandered curiously over her body when he spotted several superficial cuts from her fall. Frowning at the minuscule marks on her once perfect skin, Charles lowered himself to to the ground and became visible once more. Thin scraps of wood snapped under his feet, glass crunching from his weight as he slowly walked over to the young one.

"Now look what you have done. You've gone and scratched up that pretty body of yours. What a shame."

He watched her cough the dust from her lungs with an amused grin seeing as how she had just been pleading for the air she now desperately tried to expel. Once close enough to reach out and touch her the phantom stood still in a relaxed stance, slipping his hands into his pockets as he waited for the girl to get her strength back. She struggled to keep her balance and had to brace herself against the nearest wall, the poor dear. To his surprise though it only took a few short minutes for her to make a second attempt at escape, trying to run away from her attacker. Running away, what a bore. How incredibly average. Charles rolled his eyes in disappointment and levitated a rather large set of drawers that had joined her in the fall from above. The metal handles of the drawers rattled as he took aim and finally sent the entire piece of furniture soaring through the air to crash over the head of the young witch. 

Charles could not help but laugh as his makeshift weapon made contact. The slight yelp of surprise and pain that sounded as the wood cracked under the force; drawers falling from their nooks and slamming into the ground, their contents being scattered over the floor around the body of the woman. The phantom skipped over to what he guessed to be a witch and kicked the heavy piece of furniture off of her with ease. Scooping down to pick up a small knife that had fallen from the drawers, Charles straddled the young girl's body with a boyish smile. He took the point and teasingly ran the edge over her cheek and down to her slender neck.

"Aww, come now dear. I was just having a bit of fun is all. You're the one that ruined this lovely home and tried to run away. Now look what's happened. You've gone and injured yourself again."

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

[casperharris]

The air got violently pressed out of Casper’s lungs as someone slammed him into a solid wall. For a moment Casper lost his orientation. He felt an arm pressing against his throat, making it hard to breathe for the phantom. His attacker clearly had the moment of surprise on his side while Casper struggled under his force. It awfully reminded him of when Stephen Freeman had threatened him by hovering a blade over his weak spot. Back then he had escaped death only by hair’s breadth. Casper almost suspected the hunter to be the one attacking him once more for talking to Wisteria or some other nonsense as if he was the most vile creature out there. Ha. Yet what made him doubt  was the supernatural strength behind the attack. 

Gasping for air, Casper opened his eyes again which he had shut when his back had collided with the brick, only to stare into a set of menacing red eyes. Just like his own. Only with a much greater… darkness in them. The eyes of a species, hailing straight from hell, handpicked by none other then Lucifer himself. His body tensed up, trying to fight his opposer yet with great frustration he had to realise that the other phantom much stronger than him. He was most likely way older than him which made for yet another advantage on his attacker’s side.

Even though Casper hadn’t encounterd too many phantoms in his life so far he knew that most of them were menacing creatures, pure evil poisioning their sick and twisted minds. They had no mercy on no one. And although he could have phased through the wall behind him and escape his attackers clutches it would only be a matter of seconds till the other man would come after him. And Casper was almost sure that he wouldn’t even bother with talking to him and kill him straight away, or even try. No, Casper deemed it wiser to stay right there were he was, hoping for the best. It frustrated him to the core that he still wasn’t good enough as a phantom to fight off others. Not even this human, Stephen Freeman, had he been able to fight off. If it hadn’t been for Wisteria he would now be dead, forever trapped in hell. Defeated by a human. 

Casper groaned, as his attacker increased the pressure on his neck. In a desperate attempt to breathe, the phantom pressed himself harder against the wall, partly phasing into it. Confused by the other man’s words, Casper tried to shake his head. Why was it that people who attacked him always thought he would know what was going on. He tried to speak, but all that left his mouth where incomprehensible noises while his hands latched around the arm that strangeled him, trying to push him back.

“What the.. fuck ..are you.. talking .. about?!”, Casper coughed, digging his nails into the others flesh. 

[charles-ridgeway]

A harsh snarl sounded from deep within the phantoms throat, his eyes piercing through the insignificant whelp while he squirmed in Charles' powerful grip. Rage swelled from within, flushing his face a light red and bringing a horrifying assortment of tortuous methods to his mind. No one took what was his. No one. Especially not a skinny little nobody scavenging around the slums in search of purpose or meaning. Charles had worked hard to live up to such a terrifying and impressive reputation. Employers and clans had heard the whispers and seen the bloodshed that followed the murderer from town to town. It was what funded this perfect life he had been graced to lead by none other than the devil himself.

They had come to know him as the best of the best, an expert shining out among the dull unimaginative imbeciles that slopped there way from job to job. This was his pride and joy, his legacy. The name Charles Ridgeway was one to be feared and respected. The others knew to step down when he showed any sort of interest in fear of the repercussions. But this... this... child had strolled on into what he had claimed as his with out the slightest hint of hesitation. He had to admit, the kid had gall. Something that he would have seen as impressive had it not been a personal challenge to his name. He released the boys neck and grabbed each side of his collar, yanking him up off of the ground to glare into his eyes.

"Don't play coy with me you little shit, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

This phantom was shivering, physically shaking from fear and surprise. His eyes screamed of confusion and his lower lip quivered like that of a traumatized child. This was not the face of a man seeking to dethrone the all mighty Charles Ridgeway, but that of a little boy having just had a shock. Charles tilted his head to the side and lifted his eye brow as he inspected this strange kin of his, a humored grin slowly replacing the scowl. "You really have no idea, do you?"

With an amused laugh, the murderer carelessly dropped the boy to the ground and shook his head at his own overreaction. Although he could not lie, the look of desperation in this child's eyes had been worth the momentary lapse in judgement. "What the hell is someone like you doing with Azazel's gang? You barely look old enough to have escaped the womb let alone be of any service to demons." 

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

Collette || Charles: Paying The Devil To Dance

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

“Oh, please do,”

Charles’s body behind her own was not only familiar but something Collette enjoyed in a sadistic & profound sexual way. Regardless of being a queen & playing the snotty part to hundreds of her kin, her own excitement in that manner stemmed mostly around the need to be controlled. It was her internal erotic & sensual urges with those that made her insides leap that caused Collette’s fondness of having an acquaintance like Charles Ridgeway, the murderous & utterly delicious looking phantom, at her beckoning call to be praised.

Of course, his arrival to make an appearance after being summoned was generally on his terms, but he always showed, nonetheless. They all usually did.

Within the second Collette had turned against his light touch, shoved the phantom back against the far wall & wrapped delicate fingers around his stern neck. Crimson from her tortured mortal dripped from still exposed fangs & shining blue eyes blinked up at Charles’s reds with admiration.

“It’s good to see you too, finally,” she mused in a playful manner, her other hand swiftly twirling the pieces of dark hair against the side of his head. Charles had always fascinated Collette. Even when the man was just a human & was leaving his killings all over Athoria without a care in the world as to what he had become before lucifer even gave him another chance at life, Collette was a secret admirer. In a way it had always been nice discovering that it was not just the supernaturals of the earth that had ridiculous tendencies to kill mercilessly, & it was also amusing to watch the humans of her country become flustered at the fact that the killer had been just a man. 

Regardless, befriending the handsome murderer was something Collette would not regret. & his handiwork since becoming a phantom only allowed him to partake in his sadistic urges with even more means of entertainment.

“I love how you stay so handsome. Can’t I just keep you in my pocket for the rest of my glorious immortal life?” Collette grinned, lips finding their way overtop of his, hovering gently. Their relationship had always been something to cherish; it was interesting in its own distinct way, & Collette knew that if only the phantom were of her specie she’d be head over heels for the murderer. Unfortunately, his lack of a matching pair of fangs left a fine barrier towards her urges for him in the longer sense, & what remained was a very respected, & yearning, friendship. ”Come on, don’t tease a girl,”

[charles-ridgeway]

A light grin played over Charles' lips as the vampire forced him back against the wall. To some, being in a position where a fanged beast loomed hungrily over ones body would have been cause for concern. Collette's haunting blue eyes and blood stained lips might have frightened the mortals and minions of Athoria but to Charles this woman was no more threat than a delicate flower standing in the path of a great storm. Having a female in any high standing position, especially one that called for commanding orders, was a laughable matter to the sexist phantom who saw woman more as property and a way to release his physical and sexual frustrations. Though if there had been any member of this inferior gender to gain the slightest amount of respect from the incredibly biased and egotistical phantom, it had been Collette.

With the uptight and always prideful queen prancing around as if she owned the country, Charles' made it a point to knock her down a peg every chance that he saw. Not only was this a way to assert his own dominance but anything that he could do to irritate or taunt the woman brought him a little too much pleasure. His antics always brought out the worst in the woman and pushing her to her breaking point gave him a great sense of achievement. Though this task was never easily accomplished. Her will power had proven exceptional in comparison to that of his most recent would be employer, the thought alone generating a light chuckle.

Charles leaned forward, lightly brushing his lips against hers. Eyes of red closed and his lips softly caressed their way over her smooth cheek as he went to whisper breathlessly against her ear. "Tease you? Why, whatever do you mean Collette?"

Dramatically shrugging his shoulders as if he had no idea what she was referring to, the phantom released himself from her grasp and began to mindlessly inspect one of the metallic torture devices. His way of feeding into the illusion that he had zero interest in the vampire, it was all part of this strange game they had created so long ago. Unfortunately for her, he knew that she was enthralled by him and promptly used such knowledge to torture the desperate woman. Knowing that she was only one command away from dropping to her knees to beg. After all, who could possibly resist such a god like specimen? 

"I'm assuming that you've called me for something more than to simply bask in the glow of my good looks and charming personality."

The phantom turned to the self proclaimed leader and ran the length of the whip through his hands with an evil grin, cracking it against the metal device he had been inspecting only moments prior. "Or does her royal highness simply need to be punished?" 

[wisteria-scoher]

It's innocence when it charms us, ignorance when it does not||Charles&Wisteria.

[wisteria-scoher]

Just for a second, she naively thought that this was some sort of misunderstanding, some sort of mistake. Perhaps a piece of the ground had collapsed again and he was saving her from a sudden death. But that lasted only for a second. For then, before she could even utter a word of protest, she was forced with her back against the wall. Her back protested as she struggle to get free from his grasp. What was he doing?

His hands were all over her body as her breathing became panicked. His eyes…Red. The colours of red. The colours Casper’s eyes were, but they didn’t possess the same spirit. This man’s eyes were empty, like death itself and fitted his morbid expression that took over his handsome features. Use your wand. But the shock left her unable to move, unable to think straight. She needed to escape, that much she knew. She needed to be able to think. Start with the simple things as he made this entire speech about women and…Screams? 

First of all, there clearly was no Angela.

Secondly, this man’s intention weren’t good.

Thirdly, no one could hear her screaming and he knew that.

Wisteria screamed as he pinched her hard. It was just what she needed though, the pain chasing away the shock and getting her body in action. She stamped her foot on the ground as the wood underneath it threatened to collapse with the force she couldn’t have mustered with her weight alone. It was her magic doing the work. The glass in the windows shook as several boxes fell down on the floor. 

“Let…Go…Of…Me.” She’d survived several creatures attacking her, surely she could survive one man with psychopathic tendencies right? If man was the right word to call him. There was something about him, something she hadn’t noticed before. Winny couldn’t help the shivers running down her spine, though she tried to look threatening.

[charles-ridgeway]

Charles moaned at the sound of her scream, so light and sweet with a hint of anger. Perfect. He tightened his grip around her throat and pressed himself against her struggling body, feeling the way her muscles contracted and fought under his control. His other hand released the flesh at her side and trailed up her skirt to wander around to the small of her back, pulling her even closer against him. Memories of his favorite kills flashed in the eyes of this brown eyed beauty. Their panicked screams and frightened cries played in his mind on loop as the murderer relived his shameful past with a wide lustful grin. 

"Mmm, scream for me..." He whispered into her ear as he toyed with the fabric covering her touchable pale skin. 

The ground shook under his feet, jerking him back and forth so that he loosened his grip on the girl a bit and inspected the room in confusion. The old glass rattled in the panes and the creaking wood screamed out, threatening to give way any moment. Charles lifted his brow in distrust before looking back down into the fierce eyes of the young woman. She was a fighter. Splendid, the ones that fight back were never a disappointment. He smirked at her demand and tightened his grip around her slender neck in response, bringing his ear close to her lips to hear his favorite gagging sounds of one desperate for breath. 

"Let you go?" He said with a playful tone of voice, "Now why would I ever wish to do such a thing?"

Her dress bunched up around his elbow while he felt over the thin material separating her from his callous touch. Charles exhaled softly against her cheek, feeling her lips go cold against his skin from the lack of oxygen and pressed his growing member against her with a cold laugh. Hoping she would put up a fight, he grabbed a handful of the delicate fabric and yanked it back until it ripped from the force, leaving her back side exposed to him underneath of her beautiful dress.

[casperharris]

The Devil Inside You || Casper & Charles

Once more, Casper had been summoned to the slums of Athoria. Azazel’s gang had left them the same note as always. Although it had only ever been random locations and abandonded houses ever since the phantom had first visited them. He now stood in the same spot as he had been doing weeks ago. Still equally nervous, nothing had changed. The last time he had delivered their order Casper had been protesting that he still hadn’t seen Azazel. He wasn’t even one step closer to seeing the demon. Doing there dirty work he felt more like a worm. He hoped they would finally grant him to see their leader so he could end this connection. Whatever this gang was really doing it wasn’t anything Casper wanted to be involved in.

Inside of the metal shack nothing had changed much. Clouds of smoke were still fogging up the air and there where shady people watching their newest visitor, curiously eyeing him before they went on with their business. 

“Ah, Casper, nice to see you again. Sorry we had to be… a but rough the last time. But you see, we don’t let just anyone see Azazel.”

There it was again. The disgusting smile on the same ugly face he had been confronted with since his first time here. It was a face one just wanted to smack and wipe the disturbing smile off his face. Fists clenched the phantom tried to fight the urge to do exactly that while his menacing eyes stared into a set pair of tricky orbs. Last time he hadn’t been able to contain himself. Without thinking through his actions he had tried to threaten this lackey of Azazel, punched him and demanded to finally see the demon. To no avail however. Casper hadn’t actually thought that other members of the gang would be watching them. His decisions had been based on rash feelings and anger.

Eventually he had ended up being changed to the floor by some sort of spell which had made it impossible for the phantom to phase at all. It was as if he had been stripped of his powers as long as these chains had remained intact around his wrists. They had left him there for two days, unable to move, unable to do anything at all. Never had he felt more humiliated in this life. It wasn’t something he was so keen on expierencing again.

“I want to meet Azazel.”, Casper pressed between his teeth yet his opponent could only laugh.

“Didn’t you learn anything last time, boy?” The man grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against the wall. A gasp escaped the red eyes man yet he didn’t let it intimidate him. ”You do as we say and only then if you please him  and act to his liking only then can you be allowed to meet him. And so far you have only disappointed us, Casper.” Azazel’s lackey came closer to his face, piercing him with his eyes and the phantom bit his tongue not to let something thoughtless slip out of his mouth.

“So this is your last chance. Use it. Or you will pay for wasting our time. Again.” The dark haired man held up a paper for him to see and let it slip in Casper’s pockets while his lips formed into a devilish smile. “And now go.”

Without further ado, Casper left their shack at a smart pace. Not even looking at the paper first, he stepped out into the ‘streets’ of the Athorian slums. The sun was about to set and there was nothing that held him in this part of the country any longer. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. He was already afraid of opening the note to see what it said this time, what stupid job they wanted to have him do this time.  All of this probably wasn’t even worth it. But leaving the gang without them sending people out to kill him wouldn’t be an easy task.

[charles-ridgeway]

Charles loved demons. A frightening construction of the most horrific things mortal minds could fashion all balled up into one evil being straight from the fiery pits of Hell. Even as a mortal Charles had had a strange fascination with them, a pastime his parents were less than thrilled over yet much too frightened to put a stop to. Ah, memories. Having meet Lucifer himself upon his death, Charles felt almost of kin to these dark natured beasts. They saw the world through similar eyes. Humans were not thriving lives with hopes and dreams but squirming disgusting pests only here to aid in the missions forced on them by a stronger species. It was why Charles found himself so fascinated by the rare innocence that wandered through this interesting realm. 

The phantom leaned against the side of a building, rifling through the bag of coin he'd just received from Azazel's gang for completing yet another well planned kill. The poor bastards blood still spotted Charles' clothing and face as he carefully inspected each shining coin. It really was quite amazing how messy bludgeoning someone to death with a hammer could be. Every crunch and smack sent ample amounts of the red liquid gushing to the point that Charles grew amazed that the body was able to hold as much blood as it did. Simply thinking back to the kill brought a evil grin to his lips and the urge to continue the torture. But there was no sense in taking yet another life tonight when he could wait till next nightfall and collect a reward for his murderous obsession.

A door slammed shut and Charles lifted his head to see one of his red eyed brethren leaving the most recent meeting spot of the demonic gang who had just called upon him for hire. The phantom growled at the sight of this ignorant challenger. He had had a good thing going with this gang. The deal was: kill as many of their enemies as he wanted and they would reward him handsomely. And they had done just that. If this new phantom thought for one second that he could steal even a hint of his action then he was so very wrong. Pocketing the coin Charles phased into the environment, becoming invisible, and began to follow this defiant brat through the streets of the slums. He watched and waited patiently until the boy had entered a quiet part of town free from the eyes of others and quickly grabbed his shoulder, slamming him hard against the side of a building. Pressing his arm into the throat of the confused stranger Charles growled and leaned forward, their matching red eyes meeting as the murderer glared with a fierce growl. 

"Just who the fuck do you think you are boy?" Charles pushed his weight harder into the phantom, strangling him against the brick. "Did you honestly think you could walk in on my turf and that I would let you walk away with one of my best clients? Do you want to taste death again? Because I will gladly send you back to Hell."

[collette-daisy-markham-blog]

Collette || Charles: Paying The Devil To Dance

“Oh stop your screaming, it is very unappealing,”

Collette’s dungeons were thriving with the latest batch of miniature master minds that sought it necessary to attempt to smuggle & trick their way through paying necessary funds to both her various amounts of contacts around Athoria & direct members of De la Nuit. Protection of the sorts was needed for the mortal criminals in Athoria that made their own profits by stealing or robbing the wealthier establishments, & Collette had no problem in the aid of that if she received a turnover of some sort. Besides, the King was not exactly handing out jobs at the castle to mere peasents in the smaller & poorer parts of the cities, & he especially did not seem keen on aiding anytime soon. 

It was infuriating in a sense but Collette was easy to set those thoughts of human problems aside. One man in particular had attempted to organize a small raid on Collette’s own kin, the ones that would have collected the funds after the robbers had had their fun. It was silly of them, of course, thinking that they would be fighting against simple mortals such as themselves. They were gravely mistaken.

The whip in which Collette snapped angrily across a shirtless man dangling by his wrists from the ceiling of the dungeons in the back of her manor cried throughout the stone walls. Her dungeons were decently disturbing, hiding many feet under the ground & dripped with a malice that only Collette’s sadistic side was able to handle at times. She enjoyed a good torture like most vampires would if they were in tune with a more animalistic side of them & welcomed the dominance the queen of vampires was able to emit by just the simplest touch of a leather strap against flesh.

Wearing a fine evening gown of dark emerald with the front cut so low that it was almost impossible to not catch a glance of Collette’s gifted asets, & with her blonde mane resting in waves against her shoulders that cascaded down her back, tickling the skin where her dress did not cover, she encircled the bloodied man. His mortal blood seeped through her very pores, teasing at a sensitive side of her specie that, at times, was unable to control the monstrous urge to gulp down the liquid of such a human without precision or class. On lips that were painted ruby red rested a coy smile, curled upward on the right side causing the dimple in her cheek to show. 

Collette stopped in front of the man, tracing a fingernail down the front of his chest & catching his gaze with a seductive flash of icy blue eyes.

“That’s much better. Silence is a virtue, after all. Besides, it only turns me on when you are making all of that noise,”

Collette brought the whip back & crashed it upon his face with more force than any human could have mustered, once then twice in the same spot until a large piece of his skin ripped from his jaw. The man cried again as blood poured from the small wound. She huffed, disappointed that her prisoner was such a bore. 

“You know, the others you were working with are already dead. You might as well try to entertain me a little before you receive the same fate,”

Fangs dropped from Collette’s gums & the eyes that went wide against his face was priceless to a queen. She pushed back his head to expose his neck, pale fingers tracing down his neck, over the throbbing vein that rested underneath of breakable skin. It pulsated visibly through the flesh, unsteady & drinkable.

“Pity, you were sort of handsome,” she said with a genuinely fake & sarcastic frown, only to be replaced seconds later with an extremely hungry & vengeful grin. The man shouted something & attempted to flail about, yet Collette was already diving in for a delicious taste.

[charles-ridgeway]

With one hand hidden in his pocket and the other trailing along against the rough interior of the cave like passage, Charles whistled out the tune to a child's rhyme. His unique voice bounced back and forth through the hall, echoing strangely with an ominous tone. A horrific sight for anyone to behold in such a dismal area, even more so considering where it was he was headed. His steps were confident in the dark passage, easily gliding over loose footholds and rocks set out to trip those who did not mind their step. Red eyes stared straight ahead into the darkness, not bothering to search the ground ahead of him for he had traveled the path often enough to know his way around the troublesome little obstacles.

A tortured scream rang out in the distance, the residual cry escaping through the tunnels and passed the mans ear. Stopping in mid whistle, Charles halted his movements and tilted his head to better hear the fading sounds of the pained man. A terrifying grin parted his lips, revealing his white teeth which snapped together in play at the transfixing noise. With a new found bounce in his step, Charles practically skipped through the tunnels. His foot falls carelessly splashing into puddles formed from the dripping stone walls as he found his way to the center of of De La Nuit's dungeons. He stood in the middle of the tall room, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed at the hypnotic sounds of pain and fear which wafted in through the wide network of halls that led off even deeper into the earth. Each hall  led the way to metal cells and screaming prisoners, each crying out in fear, hunger, and pain. 

Such a beautiful sound. Charles tilted his head back and listened to the symphony of torture. Each scream and moan a contributing note to the orchestra that played in the mind of the disturbed man. He wore the smile of a school boy, enjoying the not so subtle scent of blood, death, and destruction. Shaking his head with a pleasant sigh, Charles pulled himself back to his current mission and phased through the east wall. He traveled easily through the different cells and chambers of torture until he found that woman he had been searching for. His eyes trailed over her well defined back as she swung her instrument of torture across the face of what Charles saw to be a lucky man. The phantom licked his lips, feeling the chills of her victims screams flow through him and shuddered.

Collette was always stunning, especially when provoked into a state of anger or vengeance. Whenever Charles brought about a frown or scowl on her pretty little face it filled the man with satisfaction and intrigue, for he knew just what the woman was capable of and in Charles' sick mind what should have registered as fear or self preservation brought up quite a different emotion. Lust, excitement, interesting arrays of feeling from from guilt or the dreaded boredom that taunted him ever so often. The phantom smirked and watched as the "classy" female gave into her blood lust, sinking her fangs sloppily into the neck of the squirming waste and greedily lapping up the nourishing crimson. Charles rolled his eyes at the woman with the smirk still in place and brought himself to stand just behind her, leaning his tall body over her to whisper into her ear while grabbing the whip from her hands.

"I thought I might find you here."

Cracking the whip at his side Charles trailed the heavy material up Collette's hip, roughly following the curves of her body.

"How about I teach you how to use this properly?" He spoke with a deep harsh voice, more of a command than an actual question.