(no subject)
Ramon was out on the walk he told Courtney he was going to take, pausing for a moment underneath a streetlight, standing in the middle of the cone of yellow like it were a spotlight. He's come far from where he and Hippolyta live, no longer in the reasonably safe and clean streets of Mayfair. Tendrils of fog drifted languidly and close to the ground, and the air smelled like rain. It would probably come down in a few hours, if the fat, grey clouds that clogged the sky overhead were any indicator.
The short figure hunches his shoulders briefly, pulling his coat on closer. The evening was getting chilly strangely quick, despite it being July still. But that's London for you. He soon turns and continues walking.
But he doesn't stay to the sidewalks long. Instead, Salazar eventually makes an abrupt right turn, quick, scissoring steps taking him into the shielding darkness of an alley. He continues to walk the length of it until he faces a dead end. But he doesn't stop. He simply places his hands against the cold bricks, kicks off his shoes in order to get proper grip with his toes, and starts climbing, quick and skittering, clinging to the sheer surface like a spider.
His progress this way seems aimless, perhaps searching, for a time, until he spots something that captures his attention. Red eyes glowing faintly in order to see in the back alley's darkness, Ramon's movement slows to a cautious crawl, picking each hand and foot placement with deliberate stealth as he descends on a lone figure hunched over a garbage bin. The person is completely intent on rummaging through the rubbish, grunting and coughing as he does, unaware of the red-eyed creature hovering on the wall just over his head.
Ramon watches the bum scavenge for near a minute, never being detected all the while. Then his lips part, fangs bared as he lowers his face to the back of the homeless man's neck. Poised to sink his teeth just right, close them on either side of the spinal column and yank back with a meaty rip.
But then his mouth snaps shut again and he turns and crawls up and away with great haste, leaving the bum blissfully unaware how close he had been to a man-eating monster.
The castellan soon finds a man standing out on his stoop, struggling to light a cigarette with some matches that didn't seem to want to cooperate. Ramon clung to the closed door, as his quarry had his back turned to it, reached out a clawed finger, slowly traced it through the air in a graceful downward motion nary a centimeter from the man's back. Tracing it where he'd have slashed to again get to and messily sever the spine...then skitters away once more just as the man cursed softly and turned around to go back inside. Ramon was not seen.
He finds a couple passionately (and drunkenly) kissing behind a seedy bar. They don't notice the slender, long claw that sneaks between them, poised at the woman's throat, then yanked back fiercely, but without cutting. The pair continue to paw and kiss at one another as a small, dark figure darts away up and over the building's side.
Another man talking on his cellphone doesn't see the tentacle that snakes out, loops around his ankle without touching him, then retreats into the shadows once more.
A woman out walking her dog doesn't even look up when something with red eyes slinks up close behind her, mimes closing it's clawed hands around her neck, closing them into fists and then twisting. She only gives a brief glance over her shoulder when she thought she saw something duck into a nearby alley.
A teenager only shivers when a set of teeth open next to his right shoulder. The owner of said fangs simply notes how he's close enough to sense the person's pulse in his neck, then melts into the shadows.
Seventeen people total, Ramon later tallies as he sits on a rooftop and watches the first few pattering raindrops come down, came close to death this night on the London streets. And they'll never know it.
The short figure hunches his shoulders briefly, pulling his coat on closer. The evening was getting chilly strangely quick, despite it being July still. But that's London for you. He soon turns and continues walking.
But he doesn't stay to the sidewalks long. Instead, Salazar eventually makes an abrupt right turn, quick, scissoring steps taking him into the shielding darkness of an alley. He continues to walk the length of it until he faces a dead end. But he doesn't stop. He simply places his hands against the cold bricks, kicks off his shoes in order to get proper grip with his toes, and starts climbing, quick and skittering, clinging to the sheer surface like a spider.
His progress this way seems aimless, perhaps searching, for a time, until he spots something that captures his attention. Red eyes glowing faintly in order to see in the back alley's darkness, Ramon's movement slows to a cautious crawl, picking each hand and foot placement with deliberate stealth as he descends on a lone figure hunched over a garbage bin. The person is completely intent on rummaging through the rubbish, grunting and coughing as he does, unaware of the red-eyed creature hovering on the wall just over his head.
Ramon watches the bum scavenge for near a minute, never being detected all the while. Then his lips part, fangs bared as he lowers his face to the back of the homeless man's neck. Poised to sink his teeth just right, close them on either side of the spinal column and yank back with a meaty rip.
But then his mouth snaps shut again and he turns and crawls up and away with great haste, leaving the bum blissfully unaware how close he had been to a man-eating monster.
The castellan soon finds a man standing out on his stoop, struggling to light a cigarette with some matches that didn't seem to want to cooperate. Ramon clung to the closed door, as his quarry had his back turned to it, reached out a clawed finger, slowly traced it through the air in a graceful downward motion nary a centimeter from the man's back. Tracing it where he'd have slashed to again get to and messily sever the spine...then skitters away once more just as the man cursed softly and turned around to go back inside. Ramon was not seen.
He finds a couple passionately (and drunkenly) kissing behind a seedy bar. They don't notice the slender, long claw that sneaks between them, poised at the woman's throat, then yanked back fiercely, but without cutting. The pair continue to paw and kiss at one another as a small, dark figure darts away up and over the building's side.
Another man talking on his cellphone doesn't see the tentacle that snakes out, loops around his ankle without touching him, then retreats into the shadows once more.
A woman out walking her dog doesn't even look up when something with red eyes slinks up close behind her, mimes closing it's clawed hands around her neck, closing them into fists and then twisting. She only gives a brief glance over her shoulder when she thought she saw something duck into a nearby alley.
A teenager only shivers when a set of teeth open next to his right shoulder. The owner of said fangs simply notes how he's close enough to sense the person's pulse in his neck, then melts into the shadows.
Seventeen people total, Ramon later tallies as he sits on a rooftop and watches the first few pattering raindrops come down, came close to death this night on the London streets. And they'll never know it.