and the knife says...
Characters: Fenrir/Klavier (asmodial), Fallen/Crowley (sauntersthrough)
Date/Time: November 28, late morning.
Location: Butcher shop, Marketplace island.
Rating: R? PG-13?
Summary: (The demons finally meet, and it is ping-city. Warning for...Fenrir?)
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The cleaver was still warm from his hand when he finally let it rest against the block. His apron was blood-stained but new- he'd disposed of the one he had worn when he had hunted the humans last.
The meat was hiding in makeshift coolers scavenged before he had ever arrived and large carcasses were still hanging along the back wall, ready to be carved and wrapped in the thick white paper. The tile floor was dirty, cracked, and his boots cracked along the floor. The drain rattled in place when he stepped over it- one screw long missing and the other loose.
Still, he was mostly done already, having slaughtered what was needed earlier in the morning and carved the rest as the first shoppers were questing down to the island. With any luck, he could finish for the day very soon and make his way back down to the wilderness. The city, as it were, was a hotbed of vice and it suited him to play roulette in the evening with the women and take them back to a borrowed hotel room that night. There were some nights that he was able to drink down enough of their soul that the sheets were not coated with blood and the women walked away the next morning.
Hopefully. Today, he was waiting for the one named Fallen, the other wolf.
He rocked back and forth between the ball and heel of his feet, arms folded behind his back.
Date/Time: November 28, late morning.
Location: Butcher shop, Marketplace island.
Rating: R? PG-13?
Summary: (The demons finally meet, and it is ping-city. Warning for...Fenrir?)
------
The cleaver was still warm from his hand when he finally let it rest against the block. His apron was blood-stained but new- he'd disposed of the one he had worn when he had hunted the humans last.
The meat was hiding in makeshift coolers scavenged before he had ever arrived and large carcasses were still hanging along the back wall, ready to be carved and wrapped in the thick white paper. The tile floor was dirty, cracked, and his boots cracked along the floor. The drain rattled in place when he stepped over it- one screw long missing and the other loose.
Still, he was mostly done already, having slaughtered what was needed earlier in the morning and carved the rest as the first shoppers were questing down to the island. With any luck, he could finish for the day very soon and make his way back down to the wilderness. The city, as it were, was a hotbed of vice and it suited him to play roulette in the evening with the women and take them back to a borrowed hotel room that night. There were some nights that he was able to drink down enough of their soul that the sheets were not coated with blood and the women walked away the next morning.
Hopefully. Today, he was waiting for the one named Fallen, the other wolf.
He rocked back and forth between the ball and heel of his feet, arms folded behind his back.