Character in general: Well what can I say? He’s a little devil masked in a young man’s body. Dark, brooding, vindictive and without remorse. A muse with an intricate background and personality and well thought of. A voluntary human blood bag, how happy can Lorraine be? XD Lorraine and I love him okie. How they play them: A+. The Mun: very adorable and nice. <3 sobs because me fangirls you
Do I:
RP with them: YESWant to RP with them: YES oh YES
What is my;
Overall Opinion: you and Sky are perfect pls lemme love you down. <3
He stares, near slack jawed at the latter’s generic reply. He’d expected more from his witty friend. Pity. “I thought you were the type to save yourself. Besides, that’s the wrong answer, you shit. Your God is right in front of you.”
"I am, so what's there need for a God." He hums, walking around the other with a faint grin forming on his lips as he taps his chin once more before standing before the other, tilting from one side then to another as he hovers his hand just above his eyes as if looking out to the far distance, shifting hues to direct them towards the latter. "Only thing I see is a princess displeased with my answer."
The pad of a slender forefinger taps on his chin as lips protruded before relaxing as his limb falls back down to the table, the corner of the page pressed between his fingers as he flips it onto the next before drifting slate hues up to the other. Probably burning in the depths of Hell, if I even had one. He snorts, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Nowhere. Nonexistent. Besides, that God people have so much faith in wouldn't be able to save himself, how the fuck would he possibly save me? What a joke."
Trust him to know exactly what to say to temporarily alleviate his worries and direct his attention elsewhere. Gratitude is shown with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as he reaches for the now lukewarm plate of food and shoves a forkful in his mouth. Not bad. He flashes a thumbs up around a mouthful of chewed noodles and swallows before reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants (one he’d stolen from the other when he realized he hadn’t done laundry).
"Catch," he warns belatedly as an inconspicuous usb sails through the air towards the latter. "Target is a Mr. Kwak Daniel, some fancy schmancy businessman hailing from California. One grimy hand in underground gambling and the other in weapons trafficking. Suit and tie affair, so be ready to kiss ass and dazzle the ladies. But I promise it’ll be worth the hassle." He waits a beat and lets the clink of porcelain china setting on glass punctuate the air, "You can even play with him for a bit."
He notes the thumbs up given to him by the latter and chuckles lightly before giving a short nod. Lifting his glass once more, he takes a sip while an item flying towards him is caught by his peripheral vision. He raises his free limb with his palm open, catching the item as he bring it back down, uncurling his digits to display what seemed to be a USB. Without a single word, he sets his glass down before moving towards the living room. The laptop's screen flipping upwards as he inserted the device into its respected slot.
He didn't fancy the suit and tie events, but when it came with a pleasant price, how could he ever reject the offer. As he opens the files and glances through the given information, his back hunched as he scrolled through documents, he peers over his shoulder towards the latter with a grin tugging at each corner of his lips as he shuts the laptop, though he remains in his spot on the couch as he lifts his limb after leaning back, resting it on the back of the couch. "It's been a while since we played with someone; unless well, you know... You prefer watching instead."
"There are a few who attacks by striking fear in the hearts of their prey.
And there are those who mask indifference, innocence craftily painted over their faces.
And stealthily they will burn your hearts.
And it will be too late to know that they did."
It was a disguise concealed thoroughly by her physical features. A fact that her physical attributes ceased to age along time apparently is enough, added the ethereal beauty she so had behold that made such apparel blend along effortlessly. A pair of jeans, plain white shirt, and a leather coat topped off with a beanie and there she was, gliding along the river of youth as she paraded herself on the side streets, a cold bottle of soda trapped in her hands.
She walks in the sea of people as though she belonged, the people oblivious to the menace that shrouds well behind the innocent face.
The dusk was finally giving way to darkness, orange hues lined the peculiarly low clouds ceiling over – a sign mostly for the youth to return to their home after classes or work, but for her, for them, it called them out. Lorraine had enough of this little hide and seek he was playing, especially since it has been a while since she had that particular scent, and perhaps she had longed for it now, more than ever. Not just of blood but of that blood. His blood. He thought he could just get away with it, but it isn’t that easy. Though she’d like to give him credits for being able to stray away for a few days.
And there, from about a few meters away, the faintest smell of his metal string along the gentle breeze, alluring her and leading her to where he has been. It was pretty hilarious that he had donned almost the same style of clothing, except that he had added his dark lenses as an accessory. From the table outside of the small restaurant he sits, a pen scribbling on a notebook, and it was recognizable that he writes nothing but irrelevant curves and lines, for his eyes were set nowhere in the paper but on the restaurant from across the other street.
“It takes a good amount of wood to produce such paper, and you put them all into waste with your senseless scribbling.” She invites herself in, taking the vacant seat next to him, placing the now warmed can over his scribbles. “You’re too busy peeking on other people’s life that you’ve failed to respond to messages, my messages.” Her voice drifted over his shoulders as she hooked her arm around him, eyes prying to where his were fixed. He was never fazed, or maybe he did feign to be. “I’m disappointed, Skylar. I've missed…” A hand trailed to the now invincible scar of the left side of his neck, paleness rubbing over it, the months that have passed giving an ample time for it to completely heal. Her voice softens, teasing, almost alluring. “…you.”
Both of them knew who, or what she had direly longed for.
The question did not stun her, not even for the littlest. Especially when it came from someone as him.
His anomalous curiosity was almost limitless, his tongue a shard double edged sword that he was fond of taking out to slash at her, for the fun of it or just to irritate her. Both ways hardly works but she entertains his questions, of mostly finely chosen, not to quench his thirst of answers, but of more.
Two can play his game.
“I’ll show you.”
From a fair distance, which they always kept at four feet when together, she slips to his back, her speed as fast as a dark shadow hovering towards the night, in a distance dangerously proximal that arrests him in his place. He was trying to keep his composure with his steady yet shallow breaths.
But she could hear his heart drumming in.
Sounds of which alluring her senses.
“I was lost.” The cold air jumbled along her whisper, blowing the delicate words next to his ear. A hand grazed to the blonde locks of his hair, fingers curling around the silky threads, like he was a doll. Her doll.
“Everything spaced out of me. My name, who am I, where am I, what am I.” She recalls the exact moment, the brick walls of that same alley seemed to have materialized in front of her, the sense of suffocation from the dark and the inexplicable twinge at the pit of her stomach came in at once. “I was cold. “ She leaned closer, head angled to the left side of his neck. “And it numbed me from everything.“ Her hands fumbled on the disguise that curled around his collar, a familiar cloth that he’d always wear around if he’s not in his turtleneck. “Everything but this exact same feeling.”
She undoes the cloth, smoothly, gently, almost teasingly. “My insides were burning, as though a hole was drilled into it.” The silk fell at his feet, revealing the marks he had well-hidden under layers of concealer and a scarf. “My brain had only one thing in mind.” The scent draws in, the metal she could almost taste from under his skin.
“Blood. And nothing but fresh, raw and warm blood.”
Her head dipped into the crook of his neck, sharp canines sinking in his pale skin and she felt him took a sharp gasp. His blood fluidly pours out to her lips, coating velvet on her mouth. It came in a lush, as though it volunteers to be drained out of the body it wanted to get free of. Drop by drop, ounce by ounce, it filled her with a consummation that couldn’t be easily be appeased by a bottle, not even two, of bourbon nor those of thawed blood bags.
His scent, his taste never fails to give her that satisfaction, like that of her first feed.
She feels him slightly quiver under, hands now grasping on hers which steadied his shoulders, pale fingers gripping around her wrist. If she is to go back to his question and elaborate on it, she would have dismissed the grip on her hand, or even the sound of his now thread-like pulsations. But she didn’t. And though she must admit that at that one second, such thought arrived at her and was curious of what will happen if she entertains it, there is such thing as control – that one thing that she doesn’t have the first time this occurrence happen, the reason why her first kill followed after.
She exhales, releasing him and then pressing two fingers on the renewed wounds while relishing the aftertaste of iron in her mouth. It was enough drink for the night, and it was enough answer to his inquiry.
“And you know what came after.”
Skylar would think of it as the same, Lorraine smiling in victor as she had another taste of fresh human blood, or of life ending at her causation, gratification etched fairly on her face but it was far from what happened that very first time.
Indeed she felt satisfied, a sense of power consuming her as she bleeds one innocent man out of life, but it was too immense, too overwhelming that disgust soon came after, not at the blood tainting her lips and cheeks and soaking her hands, but of herself, of what she had become, and the dark potentials she was about to become.
