Status: Open Log

[unbridledfangs]

Characters: Kamui & Dahlia + you!
Format: action/prose
This log is: closed for the attack, open afterward
Location: Fortitude, between the Library and Pale Dorm.
Summary: The Bloodthirsty Slasher of Rakuen strikes aga-! No, it's just some asshole grabbing an after-school snack.
Warnings: Character Death, violence, bloodshed, meanies.

[As the sun begins to set, Kamui lingers in the trees of the courtyard and watches people walk by. He's become hungry again, enough so that he knows he must feed today and finish his kill entirely. Without interruptions, if possible, but at this point he knows the likelihood of that happening is slim. Especially if his last kill is anything to go by.

No, this time he'll have to strike hard and fast, against a target unsuspecting and delicate.

It's these certain qualifications for his prey that have him eyeing Dahlia as she exits the campus and begins heading towards the dorms with her arms full of books. The fact that she physically seems to match his needs is only the beginning. Rather than her thin arms and the charmingly content smile on her face, he's more interested in the fact that she seems to be weighed down with her burden, making it harder for her to flee like the last one did.

When she enters the shadows cast by the tall campus building, he decides he won't get another opportunity like this and starts moving forward, eyes flashing from their translucent blue into a pale yellow.]


[ooc: When the log is open to be responded to, another top-level comment will be posted saying such. Go go go~!]

Comments

[traces]

[ Four weeks here, and Dahlia's finding that she doesn't particularly mind it, really. She hasn't had a problem being granted rights yet; the battling is annoying, but it's nothing she can't deal with, really. And it's better than the Hawthorne home, with that lousy excuse for a father, that bitch of a stepmother, and Valerie. Not to mention that fawning idiot tutor. No, Dahlia really doesn't mind it here, even if she puts on the pretense of being a terrified wilting flower.

She's headed back to her dorm from the library, carrying a stack of books to help with her homework, when she faintly hears a sound coming from behind her. She stops to glance over her shoulder. ]

[unbridledfangs]

[Moving towards her in long strides, his hand gives a single and almost delicate jerk as his claws extend, nails sharping into deadly points. By the time she's begun to turn her head, most likely in response to his footsteps, he's already judged the distance, the length of his fangs and how deep he'll have to cut to keep her from crying out.

In the single instant her eyes meets his, he slashes. A single, straight cut across her throat.

It's a wasteful way to kill prey, he has to admit. So much blood will be lost in that initial gush but he needs to keep her from drawing attention with a scream. At this moment? That's all that's important.]

[traces]

[ She's barely had time to even register that she's looking at another person before he slices her throat open. She can't even scream -- all that comes out is a horrible gurgling sound as she collapses, spilling her books on the ground.

Well, uh... she wasn't minding it here until just now. This kind of ruins things. But it was nice while it lasted. ]

[unbridledfangs]

[Catching a flailing wrist before she can completely slump over, Kamui pays no mind to the books as he draws her body up, cradles her head and murmurs a very quiet:] Thank you. [Before he's placing his lips against the cut and drinking. If he's heedful of the blood spilling down his front, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind, choosing instead to get this messy business over and done with before anyone notices he's not just giving her a hickey.]

[traces]

[ Aaand she's gone. She has no idea what just happened, but it wasn't fun. Maybe she'll figure it out once she wakes up... ]

OPEN

[unbridledfangs]

[In the shadows of the Fortitude campus building, a man and a woman stand embraced. The woman seems limp in his arms, perhaps overcome with the romantic assault he seems to be lavishing on her neck, though the books by her feet might paint the scene with a note of oddity.

Those beckoned by the promise of mystery (or a PDA) might look closer and find there seems to be a dark shadow beneath the two of them, puddling about their feet. It's darker than any other part of the gloom cast by the building in the dying sunlight and seems to be... growing.

Soon after, a copper metallic smell begins to assault your nose, filling your senses vividly with its aroma. Or perhaps by then you've noticed the woman's uniform is slowly being darkened by a liquid dribbling down her throat and arm, onto the ground where it splashes against the books.

At some point, it will become horribly obvious that the growing shadow and dripping liquid are both blood, and he's drinking it.


what do?]