Echoes of Solice

[prince]

The soft wind. The quiet river. The slow movement of humans. The thick scent of blood.

A wicked smirk crossed the young male's face as he ripped the knife from the chest of his now dead target. Slate colored eyes peered down at the dead body, still bleeding at his feet. His white boots were now trashed, as were most of his clothing. "Aww... You ruined my perfect outfit..."

Despite the fact that the target was dead, this assassin continued hacking and carving away at him, making him nearly impossible to identify. Maniacal laughter filled the soft, gentle air, filling everything around him with an almost evil aura. Yes, he was enjoying this just a little too much.

But this is what he lived for. He smirked again, licking the blood from his silver blade. All of them were silver, made especially for killing wolves. He despised them most of all. Though he was born of wolven parents.

A soft whistle left his lips. People didn't call him "Ripper" for nothing. He would leave all but the fingerprints and the dna he had collected from the blood on his clothing for the wild animals to feed on. He quickly walked to a bar to change, not caring that he was full of blood. People could try to kill him if they wanted, but it would definitely not be easy.

He walked into the back and took a bag of fresh, clean clothing from the back pack he had been carrying today. Of course nearly everyone took in his appearance as he had walked in. Didn't they always? Even without the blood he was an odd one to behold.

This was what seemed to be the strangest thing that some of them had seen in awhile. The kid was obviously human of some sort, because of the lack of fangs. Though his graceful movements seemed to suggest other wise.

He got a few looks as he walked out of the back and into the main part of the bar. His hair was covering his eyes, as it had been when he walked in, but this time he was free of blood. He had obviously changed, but into the exact same thing he had been wearing before, the same jacket, the same stupid striped shirt, the same pants and the same oddly womanly boots. And that tiara of his wasn't really helping the fact that he looked utterly vulnerable.

But anyone who thought that was to be utterly and horribly mistaken. He was, after all, an assassin of Izan, and a fairly skilled one at that. If anyone tried messing with him... Well, they would have one of his knives in their throats before they could cross the room.

He sat down on a stool, rotating the top back and forth, spinning lightly and humming a soft tune. That obnoxious grin of his was still pasted to his face. "I want..." He stopped and looked around. He was no where near the right age to drink, but what did he care? "Something... different." He looked around again, taking in what kinds of drinks everyone else had. "What about that pink one?"

The lady at the counter looked at him like he was crazy, though she was right enough. "Umm. A strawberry daiquiri?"

"Mm... Strawberries. I am a sucker for those..." He grinned and wrote something on a piece of paper and started folding it into an airplane.

He was soon brought his drink and realized the lack of alcohol. He didn't mind though, the strawberry part was good enough for him. He began to move the paper airplane around in his fingers, then threw it across the room, hitting someone in the face with it. He smirked and walked over to the person, carrying his drink with him.

"I'm sorry about that!" he said, that wicked grin never leaving. "But, would you mind playing a game?" His games were bad for others.

[devon]

The very pull of certain areas was irresistible. It took far too much effort to fight the open beckoning of gaping doors. It took even more to sit there, staring for a few moment at the door, hands in her pockets, staring at the hole in space that was trying to suck her in like the most forceful of blackholes. The sound of clinking glasses drifted on the backs of chattering patrons. Even out here, in the Blackwater Frontier.

Trust was in short supply, but if you had a few shilling you could get what you needed. Or, if you were a regular, and had been since before you could legally drink, and your father had been before you, and his father before that. Well, needless to say, this particular redhead had open arms as well as open doors welcoming her. The Frontier folk wouldn’t give her the cold shoulder they gave everyone else.

Some people even remembered her before she got married, and before everything about her had been shattered in a bigoted attack. With shifty eyes darting from one side to the next, checking and double checking for only the gods know what on the silent motley roads, she finally gave into the allure. Shuffling in, and taking a seat, Devon appeared, if one had to be perfectly honest, pretty androgynous today. A trench coat laden down with good hid any semplence of a curve, and the red hair that usually fell loose was ratty and piled up underneath her hat. Only the soft features of her face would reveal her as female, for even her voice, as it slipped out, came out husky and almost more male than female.

“Ale. Vodka. Mix. Johnny, play that fiddle…”

The barkeep shook his head, though he had been distracted by a blood spattered individual heading back to the bathroom, and didn’t indulge the insane female in her tangent. As the mug slid into a gloved hand (Yes, it was the middle of the day, in the middle of summer. Yes, she was dressed in full autumn gear.) Devon sidled back to her normal chair with one word to the keep.

“…Hard.”

Then all was practically lost in the swirl of alcohol and the touches of bittersweet memories as they all began to sidle in. Always, always, clouded by smoke. No matter the memory, the year, the hour, always, the smoke. The acrid smell as explosives all went off at once, or had they? So much of the dark cloud, filling her lungs, stealing her breath. A rough hand that pushed her to the ground, so familiar, and the tendrils of ash-like substances parading into her longs, her nose. Every time, like a smack in the face-

Wait… dimly, the fine line of tension on her face faded away, and she realized ,she had actually been hit with something this time…Brown eyes flickered upward from her hunched over position as a… creature approached.

Unnatural features, stripy dress, and..Devon’s eyes locked onto the shiny nestled in the… well, there were no breasts, she assumed that meant it was male. Whatever it was, there was a shiny in its hair. The fingers on her hand involuntarily twitched.

Shiny.

She forced her eyes to flicker over at the creature once more. “Papers ‘ighly flammable.” The response glided from her lips, deadpan practically. “So are zebras.” She stared briefly at his shirt, before her eyes moved back to lock onto the ever interesting shiny. What more could pull her attention than a SHINY!

“Game… 'as it glimmer-glitter, shine?” As she finished her…well, perhaps you could call it a sentence, Devon scooped up the mug in front of her and took a deep long swig, her eyes seemingly..well, they looked pretty empty, and she hadn’t even gotten half way through her drink yet, so sobriety wasn’t what was missing. Perhaps it was sanity…

[prince]

The wicked grin on his face widened a little. So he managed to find someone a little more insane than he was hmm? Well, technically he wasn't insane just yet. No, he was quite sane, though a little ridiculous.

He noticed her glance at the tiara e had on his head. It was there because he was, after all, a princess. He took a seat across from her. "Barkeep, another." He held up his cup and then pointed to her own. "Only, include liquor this time!" He placed quite a bit of money on the table in front of him.

He looked at her, his eyes still obstructed from her view. But that was fine. Anyone that saw his eyes usually wound up dead at his feet. Just like anyone that saw his blood. But we will get to that later. "Yes, dear. A game." He smirked a little as the barkeep brought over their drinks. He took a swig of his and smiled. It was perfect now.

"Your prize can be something very glimmer-glitter shine if you want it to be." He had to stop himself from saying 'if you live' because that would make the woman refuse. Anyone would refuse that. "So. What do you say? Want to play a game?"

((a little out of it right now. I'm on major painkillers so my posts might be a bit on the short side. Sorry! ^^; ))

[devon]

What a happy grin on his face. It was a he, correct? Did it…matter?? Not much. To Devon, it was an it. Maybe. It might have been a girl, for all she cared. Or maybe she cared. Or not. Or maybe she… or it… or he…. Or it… Hmm. Ridiculous and more. Or less.

He did have a tiara, which… implied that the it liked shinies. Devon’s eyes lashed over the whole form again with an absent smile and another swig from her antique mug. Antiquity was the best of things, in all arenas of the scenes of life. “Tskity Tskity. Ya look too young for teh rocksies. For the cloud of doom and its healing waves. Too young.” Like she ought to be talking.

Prize had glitter. Game universally inspired a warm bubbly feeling. Anticipation. That’s what it was. The waiting fuse with the match hovering above it. That edge of danger she’d lived with, and lived for was presenting its face again. Was there anything else worth living for? Not much… Mentally ,she checked her own supplies on her. Games. Ready to play.

“I’ll play. I wan’ a tiara ‘ike that if I win. You’ll ‘elp me find one.”


One might think she'd ask for the its.No no, never put a personal belonging on the line. If she wanted its, she would have taken it. His was taken, and looked like it had a few blood flecks. I bet it would shatter nicely with the proper dosage of.... oh drat, what was I thinking about again? Ooo...Shiny.

"Where will our game take place? People make me uncomfortable." They stared. She'd risen now, red locks sliding out from underneath her hat in small bunches. The voice remained a bit raspy for the moment, and the yes were aimed directly down into her ale.

"... I'll... finish this first, eh?"Pale tight fingers grasped the handle and in a rather surpremely unladylike chugged the final gulps of ale. and then dark half empty eyes aimed right at the ...it? No, the logical side had identified it as male.

[prince]

He smirked as she accepted his offer. But that wasn't exactly the way he had expected her to answer it. His tiara. That is what she was interested in? Not anything about him stood out like the demon in disguise he seemed to be. No. She wanted the shiny thing on his head. He smirked. "Oh yes. Yes of course! A shiny tiara just like this one!" He turned and pulled an extra out of his backpack, inevitably some cheap silver, unlike the white gold one he had perched on his head.

"Does this one meet your liking?" He asked lightly, twirling it around his fingers and inching it a little closer to her, then suddenly out of her reach and back into his backpack. After all, he wasn't one to truly indulge the senses of any being, human wolf, vampire, man, woman, child. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that he got his cheap thrill, the blood of his prey as it hit his flesh.

"We will go outside. We will run into the wild. Act like the dogs that roam there. At the end, your shiny awaits." Though, he forgot to mention that she would be the one being the dog, and he the hunter. Redefine the words "animal cruelty." But that's what they all were to him. Filthy disgusting animals in dire need to be hunted and killed.