[On Hiatus]

|NSFW| |TW's: Death/Torture/Abduction/Kidnapping/Etc.| |21+ Only| |Selective|

[shadesxofxblack]

On Hiatus w/ 2 exceptions...

Ooc: This profile is officially on Hiatus to most.  I apologize to those I have SL’s with and to those that were interested, but this muse is not where my head is at.  I will keep two (and only two) SL’s active on here, because they are both very intriguing and have been some of my more interesting plots with Angelus.  Other than @emilybrooksrpworld and @violaceouswitch, I will not continue to plot or attempt to keep this profile open for other writing.  That may change later on down the line, if something absolutely grabs me, but I don’t see anything really kicking Angelus in the ass to make him wanna write beyond the two I have established.  Thank you for understanding ahead of time.  If you have questions or need to IM me, you can reach me here. 

-Dax

[violaceouswitch]

Sanguine Familiarity

[shadesxofxblack]

shadesxofxblack:

violaceouswitch:

violaceouswitch:

“Sanguine Familiarity” [continued]

His gaze went to the flash of the piercing blue crown over her ginger tresses and back to her dark eyes, letting out a somewhat astonished, “Huh!  New Sheriff in town.  Ya know, you never cease to surprise me.  And that’s sayin somethin’, considering I’ve seen pretty much everything.  I always did admire you, ya know?  There was something about you, Andy.  Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.”  The vampire smirked and strolled around the corpse, ignoring it as he kept his eyes fixated on hers.  

“My, you are an unusual one. But then, you already know that,” he mused, reaching up to caress a strand of that fiery, red hair.  As she mentioned how all of demon-kind believed that Angelus was killed, he let out a scoff of a laugh and said, “Babe. Really?  You of all people should know it’d take a helluva lot more than some half-rate assassin to take me out.  Besides-,” he strutted back over to the couch where the man’s limp body leaned, picking it up to set it on the cushions.  Angelus put an arm around the dead man’s head as he sat back along the tweed-lined furniture with the body, making himself comfortable as he continued, “What makes you think some piss-ant lacky could get rid of me that easily?  I mean… we both know that it takes a lot to kill someone of our caliber around here, doll.  Not like we don’t see them comin’ a mile away.”

A coy smirk etched over his lips as he leaned up a bit asking, “Do you really think that I was so quick to just throw aside by old thorny-britches?  I mean, give me some credit, luscious.  I have learned how to talk my way outta some pretty damn sticky situations before.  Not like it was my first rodeo.”

He gave her a disappointed look and got back to his feet saying, “Babydoll, I’ve got more than just a few bites and sired playthings on my scoreboard.  Don’t you know by now, kitten?  I was his best kept secret.”

With a smug chuckle, he lift his chin to the deader-than-a-doornail meal that she’d finished with and said, “You and I are targeting the same people for a reason, your highness.” His twisted gaze moved up to meet her deep, methodical eyes and said with a deadly grin, “I sent them down to him, too, pumpkin.  The dirtier the meat, the better the treat.  We’d made the arrangement some time ago.  To be fair, though, I thought he killed you off a long time ago, too.  I guess, we were both given some misinformation.”

It dawned on Angelus that he had been told about her demise many years ago by the same someone who had tried to knock him off only a week later.  Perhaps, Hades had a change of heart about keeping the Ripper as a favored pet.  At the time, he believed that the demon was just getting too big for his britches and was attempting to impress the King of Hell, but now, he was realizing that it was more of an orchestrated plan from the guy in charge, after all.  The question remained, “So did you ever have any of that pompous, cry baby’s foot-soldiers come after you, too?”

A flash of their past stunned the Scourge as he jolted, quickly losing his balance as he grabbed for the wall.  Feeling a strange sensation in his chest, he shook his head and stood up with a confused gaze upward.  It was almost as if he’d been affected by some random shock or… something?  He wasn’t sure what it was, but-…

With a slow rise to his feet, he looked around, seeming to be out of sorts as he began to ask, “Did you feel tha-,” and then BAM!  The Scourge dropped to the ground, clutching to his head as flashes of screams, searing pain and monumental fright coursed through his veins.  Angelus became wide eyed, unable to really see anything but a grid of mirrors and blood, his own skin seeming to bubble up and start to peel back.  The vampire grabbed onto Andromeda’s ankle and shouted, “STOP!  ENOUGH,” thinking that it was coming from her.  His eyes rolled back as everything went blank, causing him to collapse at her feet.  

[shadesxofxblack]

@entrcils [Closed Starter]

“Sister Christian” 

There hadn’t been much time to think about things when he got interrupted with his latest victim. A minion vampire came busting in, acting out of breath (as if he needed to breathe), panicking and barely able to spit out what it was he was trying to say.  Angelus looked up with his goggles on, turning off the blowtorch and lifting the eyewear up to the top of his head.  The screams subsided as he frowned and said, “Out with it, man!  Can’t you see I’m in my creative space?  Geez.  You kids have no manners these days.”  

Angelus scoffed and took off his head gear, standing upright and wiping the bloodied, rubber gloves off on the plastic apron he had over his body.  The recent friend of the Slayer lied trembling and twitching as the Scourge took his long gloves off one by one, listening as the fledgling bent over and apologized saying, “So sorry, my liege.  It’s just…” he swallowed hard and looked up to say in a cryptic way, “She’s back.”

Wrinkling his brow, the un-souled Angel asked, “Who’s back?  The slayer?  Oh, please tell me Buff’s in town.”

“NO!  No, not her.  The other one,” he panted and stood upright with a smile saying, “Drusilla.”

Angelus quirked a brow as a slow smile started to creep over his face.  He began unfastening the apron, lifting it off to set on his metal slab and moved around to put an arm over the vampire’s shoulders, walking him to the newest victim’s barely breathing body and asked, “Honest opinion.  Do ya think she’ll like it?”

The vampire made a disgusted face, wanting to turn away from the display.  In his fast attempt to look to the side, Angelus squeezed him in tighter to make sure he took it all in.  The young vamp played off like he was trying to be cool and said through the fear, “Uhhh… ahem.. um…. Sssure?  I guess? I mean -- I’m no expert, sire.”

The ripper chuckled and said, “No, Pete.  No, you certainly are not.”  He let go and knelt down, picking up the right hand that had been welded to the left with a cross bound between them, resting the two up over the carved and re-stitched shape of a rose on the woman’s chest.  With a barely beating heart, the female finally gave way, her last breath escaping in a quiet rattle.  “She was always fond of the church, my darlin’ Drusy.  I think we should stop in and say hello, don’t you,” Angelus mused with a joyful gleam in his eyes, grateful to have a fresh gift to hand over.

The Scourge of …. well…. Everywhere, these days, got upright and walked over to grab his long, black trench-coat that he was so fond of and threw it on, hollering to the lacky.  “Grab that, will ya,” instructing him to take the body with him.  The newly turned vampire made a sour face and lifted the girl up over his shoulder, quickly following his master out of the warehouse.

-Downtown Los Angeles-

The nostalgia washed over him as he watched his favorite girl playing off in the distance.  She hadn’t changed.  At first, Angelus was concerned that she might be slumming it with Spike again.  He’d heard stories about them joining back up in London, but hadn’t bothered to go finding out if any of it was true.  

Peter came back up behind Angelus without the body of the fresh victim and said, “Done.  What else shall I do, sire?”

“Leave,” he insisted, not giving a damn about the soldier boy being around when he finally reunited with his dark princess.  She was just about to discover the gift he’d had the troll set up in the shop window down the way.  Angelus had every intention of surprising her on his own.  This was a special occasion for them.

He moved up through the shadows with a quiet air, letting the present do the talking for him. There was a locket around the neck of the corpse that was very similar to one that Drusilla used to wear. Angelus had taken the girl for a warning to hand off to Buffy, but this was almost better.  It was like it was meant to be.  The timing.  The necklace she had on.  It brought him back to the good old days.

Remembering back to the last time they’d been able to be reunited, he finally spoke up and quoted like it was yesterday with a soft whisper behind her ear, “Yeah, baby.  I’m back.”

[butterfliesarefree3149]

“Risking our heart is what we are living for.”

—

[shadesxofxblack]

@entrcils

Or dying for.  Look, Dru!  They’re giving away hearts for free!  Heh!  Want one?

-Shades

[shadesxofxblack]

{@formerlywilliamthebloody } Spike had caught wind of Angelus being back, and being the little shit that he was immediately hunted him down. He gave a wide grin as he approached the elder. "So it is true! The Irish Potato did lose his soul again." he said. "How long you think its gonna last, mate? Gonna get your soul back anytime soon?" he asked. At least Spike seems to have the common sense to keep his guard up. So he seems to be expecting retaliation.

With a coy grin, the age old vampire spun around on his heal, recognizing that horribly Cockney voice anywhere and said, “Spike!  Buddy.  Ya know?  We really gotta stop meeting like this.  How’ve you been?  It’s been what… over a decade?  How’s the head?”  

Angelus gave a knock to the side of his own head and pointed back to Spike, mentioning, “Still chipped and impudent or are you back to pining over that Slayer again?” 

His smirk widened, knowing that he’d just emasculated the wanna-be puppet.  “Hey.  Tell me again how you’re the Champion of the People, cuz uh… Heh!  That one never gets old.” Turning away, Angelus rolled his eyes and started to walk off with a smug lift of his chin, not giving two shits about what Spike had to say to him.  After all, Willy-boy was always about as annoying as a gnat that desperately clung to the Scourge’s leftovers.  

[thepnwvarmints]

To-Do List...

Please help a guy out, ladies?  I’m so fuckin’ lost.  I don’t have hardly any notifications updated that show half of the replies I’ve gotten from all y’all.  I know I owe @sharpenurdamnknife and will be gettin’ that one done first.  After that, I’m a little unsure of who I owe on this side.  I think I owe @the-storm-within-me from Wyatt and Zephyr, but I wanted to let her take a breath, since we have so many muses shipping atm.  Let her get caught up.  Lol!

Then Angelus has a reply to @violaceouswitch to do, a starter for @entrcils to write and an ask from @formerlywilliamthebloody to get back to.  

If there are any others that I’m currently in need of responding to, please shout at me?  I may have missed your reply and will need to add you to my “to-do list” here.  Thanks!

-Dax

[shadesxofxblack]

-glances up at all this in disgust-

What in the Hell have you been doing all this time, kiddo?  Ya know what!?  Never mind. I don’t need to know.  Just get your act together.  I’ve got people to hunt and bodies to mame.  Don’t need to be wasting my time on your sorry ass, there, chief.  

-rolls eyes at the mun and flicks a half-smoked cigarette at him before struttin’ off to get things in order-

-Shades

[oopsprompts]

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don’t insult me. If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead.”

[shadesxofxblack]

@emilybrooksrpworld - “What’ll it be, Alice?  Stay in your captivity?... Or are you gonna go chasing rabbits?  Decisions, decisions.” - Angelus

[shadesxofxblack]

emilybrooksrpworld:

Ever since her father started abusing her she had felt something change within and around herself. She didn’t know what it was at first, her visions not immediately showing themselves, only a feeling of another presence. It wasn’t until she was around ten did she first encounter a ghost. Most people would be scared but all she felt was a comfort. Comfort because she finally felt she wasn’t crazy, what she had been feeling all those years could now be seen and two the ghost was her friend, her confidant, and liked her despite all the disgusting things in her life. Soon her ghost was joined by other ghosts and the noise around her started to diminish to the noise in her head. Once again she felt crazy but forced herself to deal with it until she able to find an answer, a solace that made everything quiet and even her eyes were able to not see. The answer came with a needle and sure it always cost something, but it was always worth it. The more she ignored them the louder they became when she was sober, the crazier she felt. There were times she’d catch herself yelling into the air, amazed she hadn’t been locked up and the key down the sewer drain.

Thanks to dear old dad she had a knack for picking up men and she soon found a routine of working and getting high. Though some days it was hard to do what she needed too if her hit was late the ghosts were strong. As of late most of them seemed to be hiding, a new being on her air wave had them all scared. When she was first made aware of Darla she didn’t know anything was different, that was until she shared her story. Emily was sure now that she was nuts because vampires didn’t exist, but as Darla reminded her, neither did ghosts.

Tired from Darla talking all night she was in no mood to deal with another warning about the danger coming her way or the evil that was inside him. Him, that’s all the bitch ever wanted to talk about was him, and Emily was sick of it. Late to work she stopped to light a smoke and heard the familiar sigh of Darla approaching. “Don’t start, you’ve already made me late and I’m not in the mood. I get it, danger is coming, blah, blah, blah.” To anyone approaching Emily was speaking to nothing but she could see and hear the former vampire as if she were alive, well dead and well. “And stay away from me tonight, she went on, ignoring the story or whatever she was spouting now. “I need some good clients tonight and I can’t concentrate if you whisper in my ear. Have you tried a blow job with a ghost, yeah not fun?” Huffing out she finally got her cigarette lit and leaned on the wall, trying to compose herself. “Stop yelling,” she muttered as Darla became more animated. She never thought she would say this, but she missed the other ghosts. Sure there was more of them and they were loud but at least they listened. Pausing with the smoke mid-air she arched a brow, “What did you say?” It was the first time she’d heard this name, and something in the way Darla spoke made her listen. “He drove Druscilla crazy, like you with me,” she said and chuckled, going serious. “Fine,” she yelled out, “Yes what he did to Dru was different, I get it. Stop fucking yelling,” she shouted her own voice having increased in volume.  Raising a hand in a stop motion she used the other to rub the bridge of her nose. “Darla,” she said pausing again, “Do you really think he’s going to care about me? I am nothing like her, look at me?” Nodding in a response no-one else could here she chewed her lip, her cigarette ashing near her feet. “What am I supposed to do if this is all true?”

Jumping and dropping her smoke when the man burst forth she could barely respond as he moved faster than her own shaking breaths. Opening her mouth to respond she yelled out as pain and darkness shattered like a broken window around her, engulfing her into itself. The last thing she heard was Darla screaming and then nothing.

When she first started drifting back to consciousness she noticed the scratchy feeling of a bare mattress under her, scratching at her skin and making her shift. It was the shift that caused the stir of pain but what made her eyes snap open was the feel of metal around her wrists, pulling at her skin when she went to raise her arm. The room sat on its side and then back again as she tried to focus, the side of her head and face throbbing with what she was sure was the hardest punch she had ever felt. Hearing a squeak of metal she slowly turned and saw the man from the alley sitting there, grinning in a way that brought a chill to her skin.

Goosebumps broke out on her uncovered flesh as he used her name, knowing that it was working in creeping her out, but then again, she knew his name too. That fact was not as comforting as it should be, and she shook her head slightly to clear it from everything but trying to remember all Darla had said. Speaking of Darla, where was she, where were they all, there was only silence around her. She could still hear the buzz in her ears though, so someone or a group was close but not enough to speak to or see.

Drawn away from her thoughts she couldn’t help but arch a brow at his words, leaning back into the wall behind her. “I suppose it’s a nice place, could you use some decorating tips though, bars are so last century.” Chuckling to herself she shook her head at his next words, “Honestly the thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” she said thickly her throat dry and scratchy. Resting her head on the coolness of the structure she could barely register his words, something about pain, and more pain and then needles, which only served to remind her she had needed a hit. The buzz was growing louder, something was finally joining her, and with a tremble, she heard the snap of Darla appearing. “Not a good time,” she mumbled to her, “Seems all your advice did nothing.”

Turning to her captor she sighed, “Where did you learn to curse, that’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” Still lost in the strange way he spoke she almost missed the rest. “Special or crazy, your choice.” Frowning she let out a dull chuckle, “Never heard that before Lady Gaga,” she replied with a smirk that made her wince at the movement to her face. Jumping when he came closer she was once again confused and filled all her features. “Thank me?” His next works making her stomach go cold, but she forced a look of impassiveness onto her face. “Eternal torment, is it through singing or maybe making me hear Darla talk about you and nothing but you.” Shifting forward she sighed dramatically, unable to not jump again when he slammed the bars. Shrugging up a shoulder she pursed her lips, “I guess I knew that, I tune her out, or try to most of the time, it’s a little annoying. And yeah I guess she mentioned Dru, but just today, is she important?” A quick shift of her head she let out a hiss, “Yes I ignored you and I’d like to continue so stop touching me, you know it chills me.” Pulling her arms up she yelled as the metal stopped her, turning her eyes back to him. “I’d love a suggestion on making her go away or shut up, at least for five minutes.” Her words conveying she was not scared but she was sure even she could smell it on herself. Despite the fear though she never stopped her sass or her words, she’d given in once and refused to ever again.

“The Death of a Bachelor” [continued]

As the woman began her attempts at being brash, the vampire just smiled at her bold taunts.  “Aww, how sweet,” he doted, quite mockingly.  “You think your opinion has an impact!  That’s honestly the most adorable thing I’ve seen in ages.  Hehe!  Darlin’, you need to learn a little thing called social cues.  See-,” Angelus cut off as he ambled up along the cell, around the corner of the bars to the other side, kneeling over closer to where she laid, “I have been around for goin’ on, what- almost 300 years now?  So let me educate you a little on where I get my curses from...”  

He leaned closer with a growling shift to show his fangs and said, “Baby?  I am the curse.  You ever hear of the boogeyman?  Guess what. You’re lookin’ at him.”  

He stood up to tower over her small frame from outside of the bars, the proud air looking down at her as he spoke with a warning.  “Fransisco Goya Lucientes created a painting of something he witnessed back in 1797. A shrouded figure coming into the home of a woman and her two, frightened, young children.  He titled it, “Que viene el Coco” which means, “Here Comes the Boogeyman”.  And who do you think was in that shroud that evening?  That legend started with me, dearheart.  And hey… I kept my reputation firmly intact.   But if that particular version doesn’t suit you, then hoc est non dubium, mi delectamenti victima.  I can switch to any region, any dialect, any time or place.  I’ve been around this planet a thousand times over, little one. Your taunts?  They’re just another in an ocean of billions that I’ve devoured over the centuries.  So keep it up!  See how long you last, babygirl.  I have no problem ending you just as quickly as I found you.  There’s a million more scrumptious delicacies out there just like you and there will be a million more after I’m finished with them, too.”

Morphing back his fangs to a less monsterous visage he said, “But see – this isn’t about what you want.  This is about what I want.  And since time is not an issue, I tend to relish in the finer things.  And believe me, cutlet, this is just the beginning.  I revel in these little interludes.  Just like Darla did.  So long as you play your cards right, that is.”

He let out a laugh at the mere mention of Emily asking if he had any pointers on how to make Darla’s ghost go away.  “Darlin’, you have no idea who you’re dealin’ with.  I love that she’s already pestering you, though.  Still up to her old tricks, ‘ay?”

With a smirk and casual pace back around, the Scourge leaned on the bars and asked, “Hey, ask her if she remembers Budapest?  Those were fun times, weren’t they?”

Strutting around he let out a blissful sigh and mused, “Ahh, therapy.  You can’t buy these kinda drugs.  No sir-ey, Emily.  Not even close.  Speaking of drugs-,” the vampire snapped his fingers and stepped away into another part of the building before coming back only a few moments later.  He opened up his fist to show a couple of plain, elongated, white pills in his hand.  Neither of them had any identifiable markings and both were encased in gel caps.  

“I’ve been thinking,” a curious, twisted smirk started to play across his lips as he asked, “Which drugs do what with you, Goldilocks?  I mean, I know the heroin helps with all of that HooDoo you got goin’ on in that trap of yours.  But what about something like this?  Would these affect you?  Maybe. Maybe they would help the withdrawals back off.  Or maybe… just maybe, they would help make the voices go away.  Or!  Or maybe they can make them worse!  Tell ya what-,” he leaned to roll them into the cell and let her look at them as he continued, “I let you decide.  Which is it gonna be?  Those withdrawals are gonna get mighty painful.  Do you chance it and see if you can escape the pain?  Or do you just suffer and play the victim all your life?”

Angelus reveled in this. For all she knew, there could be cyanide in those pills.  Or perhaps, it was just Benadryl.  Or… there was the other possibility.  Angelus could be telling the truth and they may both do something different.  Maybe one pill helped while the other only made her voices worse.  Regardless, he knew that she’d be crawling in her skin and ready to bash her head into those cement walls if she didn’t get a fix soon.  It was only a matter of time before she’d have to cave in and make that call.  Take them and seal whatever fate may come?  Or be tortured without some reprieve?  Possibly never to have that offer handed to her again.  Oh, yeah.  These were the moments that made his undead life worth living.

“One pill makes you larger. One pill makes you small.  Decisions, decisions,” Angelus smiled and strolled away whistling the tune “White Rabbit” with his hands in his pockets, leaving her alone to pine over the pills in solitude.

[shadesxofxblack]

Ooc: Quick apologies.  I didn’t manage to load the X-Kit on this particular page until just now.  If you had trouble editing reblogs with our SL on this page, that’s why.  I fixed it now, so that option should be back and available, if you want to edit anything.  Sorry about that!

-Dax

[shadesxofxblack]

Ooc: For some of you who haven’t seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series, I thought you might wanna look at this:

Fanged Four Timeline

It shows the dates of every major event for Angel/Angelus in his past, as well as Spike and the other Fanged Four.  Might come in handy if we’re doing a SL that has flashbacks or anything set further back in time.  For example, my SL with Andromeda went from 1888 to 1947 and then back to the possible 1700′s.  I like to fill in the gaps with possibilities of what could have happened.  Always down for a good flashback. ;)

-Dax

[shadesxofxblack]

@violaceouswitch  -  *Attached is a letter that reads: “In all my 300 years, there have been very few that could do what you did last night.  Consider this a thank you.  Music to kill by, my dear.  Can’t wait to see what the future holds.” - Shades

[violaceouswitch]

Sanguine Familiarity

The Wizard of Oz always was one of Andromeda’s favorites, granted, she had to practically force herself to watch the film—electronics weren’t really her thing. It was strange, the magic she held somehow interfered with the signals and caused them to malfunction. She tended to stay clear of them, preferring the company of her books anyway. Tonight, however, she thought to see a play. Granted, this was the third time this week she’d seen this play—but not because she particularly cared for the talent. No, she had a mark. One of the male leads was quite a nasty character. It was rumored that this was the third time they replaced the female singer opposite him because he would get too… handsy. Naturally, Andromeda had a peek in the man’s mind and saw just how handsy.

It wasn’t pretty—and neither were the string of women left broken by this foul creature.

Today, however, was their lucky day. Sensing this male’s intentions via her empathetic gift, she decided tonight, the last night the show would be in New York, was the best night to get what she wanted.

Andy would have played the part of the doting groupie to get this close, but the security was pathetic at best and she strolled right backstage as if she owned the place. Her red-soled shoes clicked ominously on the hard wood floor as she heard the male’s voice echoing through the auditorium. She dragged her pointy tipped, black nails down the wall until she found his room. A little golden star stuck to the doorway with his name written in sharpie. He must be so proud.

The door opened without her even having to touch it. She walked into his dressing room, hearing the door close behind her. There was one chair and a dusty looking couch. She chose the chair, moving it to the center of the room. Her long, scarlet curls fell over her shoulders a little, but most of it fell down her back. Deep violet eyes took in her surroundings.

–and now she had to wait.

About fifteen minutes later, she heard the noise he called song finish. Another fifteen and he was heading back to the room. She straightened, crossing her leg at the knee and pulling the hem of her curve-hugging black dress down over her shapely thighs. When the door swung open, a slow grin curled up the male’s cheek.

“Well hello gorgeous, how did you get back here.”

Idiot. “I walked,” she gestured to the hall. “Same as you.”

“Are you here for an autograph—or maybe…” He lifted his brows a few times in quick succession.

Andromeda honestly wondered why this male thought he was worth anything to anyone. He was revolting. Playing along, she stood and bit her scarlet lip. She gestured with a look to the dusty couch that said take me before your next set.

He took the bait and came right for her. Idiot.

The door shut behind him with a whisk of magic as his sloppy mouth got too close for Andromeda’s liking. She pushed him to the couch, as if eager and lifted her leg. Poor fool thought he was going to touch her. She waved a slim finger at him, tsking twice. “No no…” She murmured as her heel landed on his thigh, it was gentle at first as she pressed closer, pushing him back against the dirty sofa with her knee. She placed her finger on the tip of his lip and like the idiot he was, he sucked on the end.

Immediately, his body went lax and his eyes widened in fear. “Did your mother ever tell you not to put strange things in your mouth? No? Well she probably never taught you to keep your cock in your pants without permission either… but see, I honestly could care less about others’ suffering… it is beautiful, really, when you consider the marks of inky blackness it has left on your soul.” She traced her fingers down his chest and moved her leg closer to him, she pushed down, hard, puncturing his femoral artery with her heel. She gripped her foot and pulled the heel from his body, watching the blood spurt wildly from the puncture wound. A bit of lavender magic cleaned her shoe—and made a shield to keep the blood from getting on her dress. She bent then, eyes watching his. “I love this part. I would ask if you had any last words, but I honestly could care less—and you cannot speak anyways.”

His rage and fear washed over her in waves, intoxicating her. “Yes, get angry, are you thinking of making me a victim? Go ahead, fantasize about that as you perish… blacken that disgusting soul further..” She watched as emotions flickered over his eyes, changing as tears slipped from the realization of his imminent death.

When, at last, the lights faded from the idiot’s eyes, she moved quickly. She whispered a few words in a long forgotten language as his inky soul rose from his corpse. The blackness of it sought her, danced with her aura before diving into her body with a force that caused her to be breathless. The purified soul that remained was taken into her hand and pet—almost like she was thanking it—before whisked away to her domain below.

Andy straightened then, tilting her head as she admired the work she did.

@shadesxofxblack

[shadesxofxblack]

“Sanguine Familiarity”

-Year: 1888 – London, England-

There were certain things that the newly sired, Spike, was in desperate need of perfecting.  Yes, he’d become vigilant in killing, but to kill without style or finesse?  What was the point?  It had to have panache.  It had to have meaning.  If not, then it was simply another pit stop that deserved nothing more than to be discarded and thrown into the trash.  Where was the fun in that?  

Within seconds, Angel’s prostitute collapsed from the drugs he’d slipped into her beer only moments ago at “The Angel and Crown” tavern.  They’d picked the location for it’s simple symmetry.  Angel was almost passing the crown down, so to speak.  It seemed befitting.  

Straightening the uniform that he had taken off of one of the two soldiers they’d fed on a couple of hours prior, Angelus laid the woman back against the brothel’s rickety doorway. “It’s yer lucky night, lassie,” he mumbled with his Irish brogue, still thick from his homeland.  That would wear off in time, but it hadn’t just yet. “You weren’t for tonight’s lessons.”

Scurrying away, Angelus joined up with William who was also wearing the Coldstream Guard attire.  The century old vampire found Spike draining the girl he’d sent him off with completely dry.  “Aww.  Didn’t ya save me any,” the tutor asked Spike as he looked up with fangs bared in a blissful, bloodied grin.  Still somewhat high off of her own intoxications, William asked, “So you drug ‘em, is that it?  Tha’ the lesson I’m s’posed to learn from my sire?”

Angelus took the deceased maid’s body in his arms and laid her back with a calculating grin saying, “Not even close, Willy-boy!  Now pay attention.”  He pulled out a 6 inch upholstery knife before walking around behind Spike and putting it in his right hand as he said, “First, ya strike the main organs.” Covering William’s balled fist with his, the sire aided him in forcefully plunging the blade into the heart, left lung, liver, spleen, stomach and then once into the side of the throat.  The blood didn’t hardly pool after being drained so thoroughly moments before.

“Now.  You try,” he smiled at the young vamp.

Spike sighed and turned to his teacher to say, “What’s the bloody point in all this?  I mean, you’re not gettin’ off on this, yeah?”

“Do it,” growled Angelus, the deadly stare making it obvious that he wouldn’t ask twice.  With a reluctant sigh, Spike abruptly turned to stab arrogantly fast at the lifeless corpse’s neck, right lung, stomach, spleen, left lung and intestines.  

“Ahhh.  Ya see?  You missed,” Angelus interjected, taking the knife from him and pointing to the lower intestinal area.  “Tha’ regions not gonna get ya far, William.  You wanna know where to strike”, he stabbed at the neck again on the other side, “-how to strike,” again into the left lung, “-and exactly which ones are vital.” With a fast, perfect rhythm, he lunged in a blur at the right of the neck, left lung, liver, liver, liver, stomach, neck, neck, and back to the left lung.  

He turned to give the knife back to Spike sayin’, “Again.  An’ don’t forget.  Each strike to the neck is critical.  Covers the bite marks an’ leaves the carotid artery severed.  Tends to nudge the inspectors into believin’ that’s the cause of death.  We don’t need tails of vampires roamin’ the streets, now do we?  No sense givin’ the people reasons ta be sendin’ mobs our way.”

“Is there a-,” William started to get loud, quickly hushing himself as he began again, “Is there a sodden purpose to all’a this?”

“Of course,” Angelus boasted, the smug grin notwithstanding.  “And you’ll be findin’ it out, soon as ya get it right.  Again.”

They stayed there for another few minutes, using the female’s body as a pin cushion for training purposes.  Most of the blows to the left as the teacher explained to learn the left-handed method. It would always make the police ponder over whether the killer was right or left-handed.  Once Angelus decided Spike had done it good enough, he pulled the woman’s skirt up over her torso, setting the scene with what would be his calling card.  

“Alright.  You gonna tell me there’s a point to tha’, now,” Spike questioned, disgusted with Angelus’s display.

“All in good time, William. All in good time,” he replied, positioning her the way he wanted on the stairs to leave a simple showcase for the police.  This woman would be the first in his newest string of displays.  He called it “performance art”, but really, it was more of a way to terrorize the human race.   To Angel, however, it was more than that.  It was his legacy and would become his best work to date.

Continuing to tutor Spike, Angelus had made their targets specific.  Women from the Whitechapel common lodges only.  Homely and plain looking.  Nothing too well off or high class, so that no one would really notice the girls if they walked on by.  Plain, simple clothes only with nothing discernable to them.  Preferably black or dark colored dresses or long coats.  More notably even, was the signature black bonnet to cover their hair.  

Mostly prostitutes were to be used, since The Scourge wanted to keep the guards guessing as to a motive, although Spike had kept his eye on the prettiest of them all.  Angelus insisted that she wasn’t worth their time, yet William would eventually get his way.  

Over the next few months, the victims had gone from being dubbed the “Whitechapel Murders” to the victims of Jack the Ripper.  Adorning the name proudly, Darla’s dear “Ripper” had made a game of it, displaying each woman with body parts strung about.  Some would be shown with their intestines draped over a shoulder, as if that was their first-prize sash for being chosen to go down in history.  It was almost a badge of honor to Angelus.

After his displays, he’d sever a body part and keep it as a gift.  A kidney, a uterus, part of an ear, sometimes even teeth.  Whatever Angelus thought Drusilla would enjoy as a present, he’d take.  

On occasion, he’d use the upholstery knife, while other times, he’d use a longer blade to keep the investigators on their toes.  He even had Spike simply cut a girl’s throat the same night that Angel took a victim and made her into one of his favorite displays.  The added fear of two murders within an hour of each other only amplified the intoxicating fear in the air.  

Finally, graduation day arrived and Spike was sent out to adorn his own piece of art.  He made the girl into his series finale, striving to prove to Angelus just how good he was at inflicting terror that resonated.  She was the most gruesome of all of the slayings.  Not only that, but she would be remembered as the most horrific, tragic and beautiful woman that had become part of the canonical five.  

Granted, there were six, but the first girl that was stabbed 39 times in total had been taken off of the list of Ripper killings by the local authorities. The Scourge of Europe was frustrated when that happened, initially, until Darla reminded him that it only fed the investigator’s confusion and made the blood run sweeter.  Still – something about that bothered Angel and would sit with him for eons.  Eventually, he’d have to fix it.

William’s choice had not been drained like the rest.  Only a small bite.  Enough to weaken her before mutilating her throat.  Much more deeper cuts and much sloppier than his prior victims.  This was to be Spike’s testament to his reign.  He wanted it to strike complete terror into the hearts of men.  And it did. This one really did.

She was a voluptuous, youthful, lovely girl who wore brighter colors and never had a bonnet on her head.  She stood out in a crowd and was a far cry from the rest, but she was Spike’s ultimate favorite.  He could finally be proud to go by William the Bloody.  Before this girl, it had been a taunt for his “bloody awful poetry”, but now?  Now, it was his trademark for the most hideous, unconscionable of deaths ever inflicted to another human being and would solidify him as a true villain to be feared.  He was just as much a threat as his sire and it had finally earned him the respect from both Darla and Angelus as being officially part of the Fanged Four.

This is what the ancient vampires thrived on.  Priming their meals with absolute dread.  Causing the world to be petrified of the night and run at every little sound and creek that the shadows made.  The night was their playground again and they reveled in it.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before this caught the attention of others.  Copycats appeared with their own versions, irritating Angelus to no end.  He decided that this would not end in London, but he wanted to bide his time. Years.  Decades even.  So much time would pass that even the police would dismiss it as a possible connection, but the question would always remain… who?  Who was to blame?

-Year: 1947 – Location: Los Angeles, California-

It had been a year since Angel lost his soul.  He wasn’t sure what had happened this time.  Las Vegas was a busy city and he’d been there visiting Bugsy Segal. Everything after that was a blur. All Angelus knew was that he had some very good friends in high places that had, evidently, found a way to free him from that disgusting Gypsy curse he’d received ten years after his precious Ripper killings.  

He’d been planning on only waiting about 20 years or so before finishing his masterpiece.  Now, it had been a whole 49 years later.  He had to make his mark and finish what he’d started.  Something that would really shock the public, especially since Spike had so blatantly tried to top him with that last tart he made a mess of back in London.

Waiting inside the “Crown” bar and grill in Los Angeles, the vampire knew that this would be a perfect nod to his first victim.  They’d discounted Martha Tabrum as being part of the official Ripper murders, but Angelus knew that if he gave a clue, maybe the dolts would eventually figure it out. The question now had been, who would be the final farewell to his Jack the Ripper performance art?

He watched the young brunette get hit on repeatedly by the owner of the bar, making Angelus see just how insistent and aggressive the male was.  Night after night, she’d turn him down, but not all the time.  This night, she’d said yes to Mr. Mark Hansen walking her home, but only to her Hotel room.  Then he had to leave.

Following the pair back, Angelus stood at a distance and around the side of a hall, listening with his keen sense of hearing as the Crown manager pushed her to let him in. She slapped him and ran into her room, quickly locking the door behind.  The man pounded and shouted, “This isn’t over, bitch!  I’ll see you again!  You think you can say no to me!?  Just you wait!” He hit the door with a fist again and walked off in a huff, face red and eyes bloodshot with rage.  Ohh.  He was perfect.

Angelus followed him home, making sure to stay in the shadows as he slipped behind a palm tree in the neighbor’s yard.  Mark walked up his stairs and onto the porch, reaching under a rock to pull out a key. Moving around to the side of the house, he unlocked a cellar door and pulled the creaking wood up and open. The barkeep walked down into the deep, getting things set up and organizing his supplies.  Angel listened with a knowing grin as he smelled the blood permeate his heightened senses.  This man was a had done things like this before.  He would make an excellent John to use as a suspect.  The Ripper couldn’t have planned it better if he tried.  

As soon as Hansen went out to go back to the Hotel, Angelus stayed to see what exactly he’d moved around. He grabbed the same key from the stone and snuck down the stairs to the basement, looking around at all of the plastic.

“Wowww.  He’s thorough!  Thanks, buddy.  This’ll help out a lot,” the vampire mused, picking up the bone saw and admiring the metal table with instruments laid out for use.  Angel looked back to the bloodied, cement bag and wondered if that held any special value.  

“Why keep the evidence around?  Man, you need some teaching on prep and execution.  That won’t do,” he said aloud to the vacant room and picked up the bag. There were animal heads inside, but no human bodies.  

“Aww!  That’s disappointing, junior!  And here I thought you were a professional.  Well, hm,” he thought long and hard about whether or not to keep him as an alibi, but Angel figured it would be better to give the police something to ponder over.

“Don’t wanna bore our public, do we?”  By now, Angelus’s Irish flare had taken a hike.  He’d been trapped in a souled Angel and in various countries for a little under 50 years.  The hints of his native tongue had long been removed.

-Later That Night-

The car pulled up to the drive, turning off the engine as Angelus stayed back to take in the show. He watched the guy take the key from the stone, right where the vampire had put it back and move around to open up the cellar again.  The owner came back to the vehicle, opening the trunk to pull out the semi-unconscious Elizabeth Short, carrying her down to the basement.

Angelus smirked, knowing that it was only a matter of time.  Marky Mark had handcuffs down there on all four corners of the plastic covered bed.  He had tools that were obviously not meant for foreplay and others that seemed to be more intimate in nature.  This guy was going to be awhile.

Lighting up a cigarette, the vampire waited up on the bar owner’s porch and smoked a Marlboro.  He knew that Hansen wasn’t going to come out anytime soon.  Mark had plans and that fella intended on keeping them.  

Ten minutes or so passed and the Ripper was getting tired of waiting.  There were plenty of grunts and moans coming from him down there and that woman was still sounding fairly unaware as to what was taking place. Time for Angelus to put an end to the other guy’s fun and make some of his own.

Grabbing the shovel that the newbie had set against his Lincoln Town Car, Angelus strutted around to the cellar, yanking the locked door open with ease as the metal latch flied apart.  The noise startled the man who had his pants down around his ankles.  Hansen rushed in a fright to pull them up and get off the mattress as Angelus approached from behind saying, “Batter up!”

With a quick WHACK!.. the owner of the Crown bar and grill was down, completely unconscious.  Angel tossed the shovel and moved over to Miss Short, breaking the handcuffs with four fast snaps.  He lifted her naked body up just enough to hold as he bit down into her wrist.  No sense doing this exactly like the rest.  After all, she’d already been assaulted by that guy.  That was something that Spike may have done with a willing girl that he’d lured, but they never forced a girl.  Even if she was unconscious.  It just wasn’t their style.  

Draining the blood until her heart stopped, Angelus went over and picked out his weapons of choice. First, a smaller blade to scrape along the wrists and ankles.  Didn’t want it to look like a nod to a suicide, so random cuts seemed fitting. Then, underneath the breasts to give just enough room to remove some tissue.  After all, Drusilla wasn’t around, but Darla was somewhere nearby. Angelus had to give her something to show that he was sorry for being that sickening do-gooder for so long. And what better way than a piece of his final showcase?

He took pieces and dumped out the bag of animal heads, washing the animal blood off in the sink with some gasoline in a cannister.  Picking up the chunks of bloodied flesh, he set them into the sack and over by the stairs for later.  “Now,” he clapped his hands and looked at the tools, “Which one to use next?”  His eyes travelled back and forth for a few seconds and then, “Ah, ha!  That’s the one.”

And there it was.  A beautiful, six inch, steel blade that was very similar to the upholstery knife used back in London.  It was like this guy had been waiting just for Angel to do his work.  How thoughtful.

Cutting from the naval down to the pelvic bone, Angelus did what he always did.  He removed the intestines, but carefully this time. They were going to be on display in a new way, but not here.  This was only the carving station.  The real show would be out for the world to see.

Setting the long intestines into the cement bag with the other pieces of flesh, Angelus got back to work.  Every cut precise and with meaning.  The first victim had been stabbed repeatedly, hitting every major artery in the throat and the important organs.  But this wasn’t a training lesson.  This was a sculpture.  This, he didn’t want to slice along the neck.  

Setting a couple of minor cuts in the right forearm, left bicep, and left side of the body below the chest, he gave the detectives a clue.  Nothing major, but it offered up some closure and pointed to the left of the body.  The first body had been stabbed mostly on the left with 5 in the left lung, 5 in the liver and two in the spleen, as well as one in the heart from the left of the chest.  All of his efforts were thought out and meticulous.  Angelus did nothing by chance.

-Ten Hours Later-

There she was. Displayed off of the highway for the whole world to see.  Her lower half resting with legs open, a show of her lower half, just as he’d done with the other Jack the Ripper killings.  He set the intestines – not over her shoulder like the others, but rather under her hindquarters.  A way of saying, “This is the end.  Right here.” She received the final honorary position in Angel’s deadly display.

Her body was severed in the middle, separated by a good foot in the grass to represent the amount of time between the killings in London versus the one done here in Los Angeles. Elizabeth’s arms positioned up over her head to pose for the public eye.  The other Ripper killings had also been posed.  Some with a portion of intestines set between their arm and side like a bouquet of roses.  This time, like a ballerina, almost bowing for the final curtain.  She had a smile carved across her face rather than the ones across the necks.  This was to show her pride in being the last of the biggest, most avant-garde killings that had ever been done by Jack the Ripper.  She would be famous now.  Famous for all time and forever known as The Black Dahlia.  His work was done.

Turning to pick up the cement bag with an accomplished sigh, he saw her.  Andromeda was the last creature he expected to run into.  For a moment, Angelus wondered if she was here for him, but to his surprise, they seemed to have a mutual understanding. He was finished and she had her own business to attend to.  They had agreed to go their separate ways, but in his moment of distraction, he’d forgotten the bag.  Oh well. It had all been doused in gasoline. No fingerprints would be found anywhere. Including on the body.

Angelus had even emptied out the cellar and drugged the owner of the Crown.  He figured he could use all of the supplies later down the line. Besides, what better way than to keep the police guessing if they had no evidence to arrest their main suspect? Angelus wanted this one to haunt them. To haunt Mark Hansen.  To plague the authorities for decades to come, just as Angelus had done back in London.

Feeling accomplished, he went to track down Darla, but didn’t get very far.  A relative of the Gypsy clan had heard about the Black Dahlia within a few days of the media’s coverage.  They’d sent their finest tribal member to get back to where they’d left off and re-ensouled the dark knight, making Angel back into his pining, brooding, horrifically good-guy self, trapping Angelus in his nightmare once again.

-Present Day: New York, New York-

“Ahh, I love the theater.  So many victims and so little time,” the now-freed vampire quipped with glee, strolling up 51st Street into the back entrance of the Gershwin Theater. This was a long time coming.  He’d been kept shoved into that bottomless crater of a soul for far too many years. Now?  Now it was time to play.

Moving in and out between the stage hands, Angelus grabbed up a clipboard and started reading the names out loud, “Jackie Burns, Amanda Jane Cooper, Ashley Parker A-,” he cut short as a big smile spread across his pale face, “Angel! Eh-hehe!  Well, hello, Angel!  What have we here?  Looks like you’re in dressing room three?  I suppose I should go introduce myself.”

He strutted off to look for the room number as the crowd outside of the place cheered.  They’d just finished their set before moving to another part of the play.  The halls were deserted as the entire crew gathered up top for final bows and finishing encores, or so he thought.  

“Sir, do you have a pass?”

Angelus smirked and feigned innocence as he turned to see the security guard and said, “Ya know, I do, but I left it in Angel’s dressing room.  You know how those divas can get.  Fetch me a water!  Grab me my cell phone!  Go get me an iced latte, half-caf/decaf with mocha and hazelnut and don’t forget the skim milk! I mean… I’m runnin’ around like a chicken with my head cut off, ya know?  Heh!  But hey, I’ll go grab it.  I just set it down while I ran to grab her highness a magazine.”

The Scourge pushed past and started walking away as the security guard quickly turned to ask, “Her?”

“What,” Angelus paused to turn back, wondering why the guy was still talking. He had him convinced for a minute there. What was he mumbling about now?

The security guard replied. “You said you ran to grab her highness a magazine,” he repeated again.

“Uhh.  Yeah, I did. But look, I gotta get going. Ashley doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Uh, huh.  You mean you work for Ashley Angel,” the man’s tone was obvious that he wasn’t buying the vampire’s cover story.  

“Is there a problem here, ‘cause I really need to get back to work,” Angelus attempted to ask one last time, hoping this guy would just get on with it. After all, he had a Broadway starlet to kill.

“Oh, no.  No problem. It’s just that Ashley is a male. Not a female,” he pointed out, arms uncrossing to grab the radio attached to his shoulder to call for back-up. As soon as he went for the button, Angelus lunged and grabbed him around the neck, quickly locking him in a choke hold as he said, “Ya know, you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could ya, sparky?”  With a quick snap, the man’s lifeless body dropped to the ground.  

Everyone started to come back from the stage as Angel slid the body back into the shadows behind some rafters and drapes.  Good enough for now.  

“Well, Hell.  I wasn’t lookin’ for a guy tonight.  Maybe I should-,” his thought process was halted as he inhaled the sweet aroma. Blood!  Definitely fresh and nearby, too.  Someone was having fun without him!  That just wouldn’t do.

Following the scent down the hall and through the now-very-crowded back quarters, he found himself standing in front of Ashley Angel’s dressing room. The gold star and hand drawn name seemed a bit overkill, but whatever.  Typical celebrities and their need to be noticed.  At least the vampire had given his work over without a sharpie writing, “Killed by Angelus, The Scourge of Europe.”  

However tacky the door may be, Angel couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that this is where the scent was coming from.  It almost seemed too coincidental.  Or maybe it wasn’t?  Maybe…

‘Darla,’ he thought to himself, wondering if the old ball and chain had somehow found her way back to the surface.  Last he knew, she’d gone and staked herself to save the life of their unborn child. Pathetic.  That little runt had been nothing but a disappointment from day one. Angelus wanted nothing to do with his little Hell-spawn.  But the woman who gave birth to him?  Now that he could handle.  

Opening the door, Angel walked into the room, ready to tell Darla how she owed him an apology.  His smug grin instantly dropped as he saw Andromeda standing over the lifeless body of the actor. “Uhhh,” he paused and tipped his head a bit with a laugh, “Heh!  Well, I’ll be. Ya know, I was not expecting this. In fact, I thought maybe Darla had-,” again he stopped, almost speechless for a moment.

Starting over with arms on his hips, trench coat spread out to the sides, he asked, “Andy, right?  Gosh, how long has it been?  Seventy years or so?  What brings you here, hotcakes?  Has Hades been makin’ things a little too toasty down under?  Ya know, I actually thought he would’ve killed you by now.  I gotta say, I’m impressed.  And comin’ from me, that’s saying something.  Not many people can impress me.  Hell, not even my own fanged family could do that.”

[shadesxofxblack]

Stepping out for a few to grab a bite.  Will be back soon to continue the torture.  Next up?  Andy and her scrumptious dessert that she so generously left sprawled out on display.  Mmm, I do love a good murder.

-Shades

[theblueeyedvampire]

@shadesxofxblack || Angelus AU

     Figures, Spike scoffed, strolling almost aimlessly down a dark street, lit only by the few-and-far-between street lamp. “Ponce moves to a town that’s as good as named after ‘im.” Hands deep in his duster pockets, he shot glances into every dark corner of his path. Last he’d heard, Angel had teamed up with the leggy cheerleader from Sunny-hell and a Watcher gone rogue, turned into a group of amateur investigators, helping the hopeless and all that rot. He was just tickled pink by the whole idea, might decide to help or just stand around poking fun at the lot of them. Anything was better than standing around Brazil watching Dru shack up with a series of increasingly hideous cretins.

[shadesxofxblack]

 “Emperor’s New Clothes”   

    Watching through the store window, Angelus bode his time, admiring every glimmer of joy in her eyes.  She could spend hours in places like this.  This girl shopped as if her life depended on it.  Too bad it wouldn’t save her this time.  

He smirked, recalling the last time they’d had their encounter.  She had promised not to do anything foolish as she left to do research.  Heh!  Thanks to her, Angel had gone out scouring the town that night.  He’d still be locked up in his prison if she hadn’t stayed out so late.  ‘I should thank her, really,’ Angelus thought to himself, plotting ways to properly show his gratitude as she pined over the silk skirt.  

“Ah, Cordy,” the dark-lit vampire mused with an ominous smirk, “What shall we do with you?  You almost make it too easy.”  Slipping back behind the nearest marble column, he slid his hands into his pockets and pulled out a cigarette and zippo, flicking open the silver lighter as he set his smoke betwixt his lips.  With a singe of tobacco and paper, he drew a deep puff, closing the flame as he exhaled the plume and pulled away the Marlboro.  It was going to be a few before she came out.  Might as well kick back and enjoy the-… scenery?

The Scourge narrowed his eyes as he peered out from the shadowed corner, seeing an all-to familiar face.  “Nooo. Is that-,” he started to laugh to himself, seeing the approaching vamp edge closer.  “Well, as I don’t live and breathe.  Spike!  Ya know, I was just realizing how I owe Cordy.  But you-,” he cut off to flick his cigarette, stepping forward in long strides, “Heh!  You, I really owe.”  The anger in his eyes began to ignite as he sent a readied fist flying at Spike’s smug face.

[shadesxofxblack]

Two things: 

1 - I will be goin’ after my victims on this side of things today.  Lucky you.

2 - I will not be takin’ any new ones.  I only have so many places to keep those I wanna torture, ya know?  I mean... I’m sort of an “all in” kinda guy.  One eternal torment at a time.

@entrcils, you’re the exception to the rule, baby.  You’re eternally welcome to play with my toys anytime.  

I’ll be lurking.  If the apocalypse comes... 

-pauses and stretches an evil smirk-

...I probably caused it.

-Shades

[shadesxofxblack]

Ooc for Dax:  Great.  I have to now give an “explanation” for the mun on this domain.  He says some of you don’t have his other domicile so it’s fallen to me to be the bearer of bad news.  Normally, I’d enjoy ruining your every waking moment.  Don’t get me wrong!  But he wants me to explain why he’s been gone like a good little soldier.  It’s really quite sickening.  Can I just kill him and move on?  

-exasperated sigh-  No humanity, children.  I’m a vampire.  I’d rather eat you and go grab some ice cream server for dessert.  BUT!... 

Alas (much like the disgusting, gilded cage that I got locked away in by Angel and those damn Scooby snacks) I am yet again bound by a creature that feels they should be Mr. Do-Gooder rather than -- well -- not.

Therefore - Dax apologizes for being gone.  Yada, yada, yada.  Says he was sick.  Blah, blah, blah.  Has been behind with doing some... I don’t know... replies?  Starters?  I really could care less.

Are we good?  Can I go now?  I was a little busy.  You really kind of interrupted my whole not caring vibe.  I hate it when he does that.

-Shades via Dax via whatever.  Happy?