Post by Lyric on May 12, 2009 23:59:59 GMT -7
The scene at the end of the alley was a grizzly one. The hunched figure hovered obsessively over a woman's lifeless form. All around them lay, in precise order, most of the young victim's organs. The streets bathed in her blood as her attacker busied himself with his work, with his art. To his mind, he was making her better, more pure with each wad of tissue he removed.
The forgotten passage was bathed in an eerie red as the moon reflected the oceans of blood that soaked the street's unforgiving cobble. No screams, no whimpers, no protests could be heard. Only sounds were the soft thump of wet flesh hitting stone and that God forsaken, never ending melody.
Unknown to the Artist as he worked, deep inside the shell of his canvas, a spark of life roared into a burning flame. Before he saw, before he knew, before he could move her icy cold fingers clamped around his throat, silencing his screams as her bloodied hand tightened further. Slowly her pale blue lips twisted into a cruel smile. For what seemed an eternity, she lay, a prisoner in her own skin, watching in horror and disgust as she was defiled and ruined from the outside in. But now...now she was free of herself and would show this creature what true suffering really was.
Ignoring her hallowed out belly and the viscera that still clung for life to her inner walls, she sat up and squeezed her digits tighter still, grinning all the wider as she heard cartiledge groan and bones crack as she crushed his wind pipe. Her entire body, down to every cell, screamed in burning agony, but her rage was greater, and she would not let her physical weaknesses rob her of this victory.
With a low, gurgled chuckle, she stared into the shadow hidden face of her attacker and sneered, "Surely you didn't think it'd be THAT easy did you?" Before he could respond, not that his ruined windpipes would allow that, she dragged his face closer to let the moonlight show her the fear she knew to be there.
As his features came into view, the cruel amusement in the vampire's feature dropped to disbelief stricken shock. This was no man she held in her grasp. No man at all, but instead a woman. To her grief, she recognised her attacker, her harbinger of doom. The familiar curve of the jaw, the dark eyes that shone with joyous insanity, the black waves that framed her face. She couldn't believe her eyes as she stared into the face of MavericksChild.
Lyric shot bolt upright in bed, soaked in a cold sweat, her brow creased into a heavy frown. That dream, that memory corrupted, the images, the blood, the pain, it all seemed so real. And yet, there she was safe in bed, Lestat at her side. She was confused and exhausted, but Lyric knew she'd never get back to sleep now. She had to find the Banshee Woman. She had figure it all out.
The forgotten passage was bathed in an eerie red as the moon reflected the oceans of blood that soaked the street's unforgiving cobble. No screams, no whimpers, no protests could be heard. Only sounds were the soft thump of wet flesh hitting stone and that God forsaken, never ending melody.
All around the Mulberry Bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey stopped to pull up his sock,
Pop! goes the weasel.
All around the Mulberry Bush.
The Worthog chased the weasel.
The Worthog pulled out his elephant gun.
Pop goes the Weasel.
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey stopped to pull up his sock,
Pop! goes the weasel.
All around the Mulberry Bush.
The Worthog chased the weasel.
The Worthog pulled out his elephant gun.
Pop goes the Weasel.
Unknown to the Artist as he worked, deep inside the shell of his canvas, a spark of life roared into a burning flame. Before he saw, before he knew, before he could move her icy cold fingers clamped around his throat, silencing his screams as her bloodied hand tightened further. Slowly her pale blue lips twisted into a cruel smile. For what seemed an eternity, she lay, a prisoner in her own skin, watching in horror and disgust as she was defiled and ruined from the outside in. But now...now she was free of herself and would show this creature what true suffering really was.
Ignoring her hallowed out belly and the viscera that still clung for life to her inner walls, she sat up and squeezed her digits tighter still, grinning all the wider as she heard cartiledge groan and bones crack as she crushed his wind pipe. Her entire body, down to every cell, screamed in burning agony, but her rage was greater, and she would not let her physical weaknesses rob her of this victory.
With a low, gurgled chuckle, she stared into the shadow hidden face of her attacker and sneered, "Surely you didn't think it'd be THAT easy did you?" Before he could respond, not that his ruined windpipes would allow that, she dragged his face closer to let the moonlight show her the fear she knew to be there.
As his features came into view, the cruel amusement in the vampire's feature dropped to disbelief stricken shock. This was no man she held in her grasp. No man at all, but instead a woman. To her grief, she recognised her attacker, her harbinger of doom. The familiar curve of the jaw, the dark eyes that shone with joyous insanity, the black waves that framed her face. She couldn't believe her eyes as she stared into the face of MavericksChild.
------
Lyric shot bolt upright in bed, soaked in a cold sweat, her brow creased into a heavy frown. That dream, that memory corrupted, the images, the blood, the pain, it all seemed so real. And yet, there she was safe in bed, Lestat at her side. She was confused and exhausted, but Lyric knew she'd never get back to sleep now. She had to find the Banshee Woman. She had figure it all out.
