Can't resist...
Can't resist....
Need it... badly....
To Exist...
To Live...
Can't...
Resist...
The words rolled over; repeating like a broken cassette, pulsating like deep wounds; constant, irritating, irresistible. It was a burning lust for a taste forbidden, it was the plea for resistance against the unfathomable; an unforgiving state of mind, a merciless puppeteer. He couldn't withstand the pull any longer; did he really want to? Did he want to resist any longer?
What followed was not remembered directly, but the scene before mismatched eyes spoke novels of inexorable actions, of struggles and of unforgiving acts. The woodland between the small fishing village of Renbon and the main town of Lebane had become the elucidate resting place of the piteous victims. Bodies lay; strewn, dismembered, defaced. Scattered, they slowly seeped lifeblood into the soft peat below their shattered shells; the shadow of a single, standing male cast over the repugnant remains.
The only feeling the figure felt was that of the nipping chill to his small frame from the wind that had set in from the hills. Eyebrows furrowed at the mess, then at the shrivels of skin, blood and bone that had become caught under his sharpened, carbon-coloured fingernails. Crimson spray was almost unseen over his black attire; though pale skin revealed every speck.
It must have been a loud endeavor; for there was a commotion of officers making their way over the brook and towards the location of which the male was stood; still. Prosecution was out of the question; but incarceration was and enough of that plagued his existence, already. A deep breath was drawn into lungs; booted feet sounding quickly against the softened ground of the woodland; fleeing.
A slender frame waved between the trees within the darkness easily; the tall, bricked wall proving to be of no hindrance when it came upon him; into his own grounds.
The ominousness of the Manor stood heavily in the dark of the night; the grey, stained stone radiating a chill and shadows inside remained as black as the hair upon his own head. Broken windows scattered the entire residence; easily considered to be in disarray and long dilapidated.
Stepping inside, through the old, oak doors; the male stood still. Pausing. Looking. Sensing. It felt as if something else had been within the halls of Von-Prasslett manor; the heavy eyesore that sat atop the hills beyond the town of Lebane; only the woodland and a vast Cemetery keeping them apart. Few ventured there in fear of rumors and myths, which was why the darkened earl that now stood, breathless, in the entrance hall was feeling somewhat intrigued.
Boots became silent as they pressed against the wooden floor; each step strategically placed to avoid known creaks and crevices leading to the basement below. Whatever had been there was long gone; for he could sense it no longer.
Relaxed shoulders slouched, moving into the lowers of the basement, through the reels of caskets of wine and aged items, towards the broken wall of which lead to a hidden, forgotten side of the manor. It was within the mortuary sink that the male took to washing his hands of the foreign flesh.
The odd feeling returned, however, as he made his way back outside where the rain was pounding heavily against concrete and brick alike. He simply couldn't shake it. And it was then, that he became curious enough to step closer to the borders of the cemetery itself. Wet hair clung to bare shoulders; mismatched eyes cast around the grounds of which he could see from his position in the lane. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary...
"Who's out there?" He called, eyes narrowing and hand clenching behind his back; the veins within his wrist quickly running black; the skin graying and becoming almost scaly. "If you do not announce yourself, there will be grave consequences."
Boots moved faster against the path, a more offensive stance produced over his form. Strike two. He thought, eyes quickly casting over the headstones, the open graves and the mausoleums. The spirits were quiet. The birds were quiet.
"This is your last chance. Show yourself." Strike three.
