This is why the wicked won't let go || Lecto + Rod
The night was darker than it should have been, but that was of course to be expected after all that had happened, how could anything thing seem bright? How could anything seem anything more or less than the deepest grey of an evening laced with storm past midnight, though it was only eleven o'clock and the moon shone over the alley way.
Alecto moved with a slow kind of grace, her head held high though she felt as if she belonged crumpled on the path beneath her feet. She was on her way to a bar, having snuck off school grounds when she drained what was left of the whiskey in her room. One could tell she had consumed the stuff, though she did not much smell of it, nor did she waver in her steps or words. No, she smelled of the faintest soap and lavender, as she always did, and her body appeared elegant, long and lean. The dress she wore made her waist look so small, and her hips generous, her legs longer than they should have been. It was the sort of thing made to be taken off in the minds of men, though it was not overtly demanding of lust.
The witch heard steps behind her and no fear rang through her small figure, there was no reason to believe this individual was following her, and even if they were, the idea of hearing screams fill the night, of feeling them fight as she pulled their life away danced in Alecto's mind, making her stomach and what lay below clench ever so slightly. She craved some sort of sin, after the pain inflicted upon her tonight, she needed to do something she shouldn't, and little did she know of the perfect opportunity that was soon to present itself in the form of one Rodolphus.