(no subject)
Characters: Isabella lamortdeshommes and Haine sonotyourdog
Location: Haine's Room ( 8219 (Deck 5) )
Date: Approximately a week after Haine's Birthday
Rating: R for gore.
Isabella liked the element of surprise. She also enjoyed making her prey suffer, knowing that she was going to attack, but giving no clues as to when. Haine, having a brain in his head, was sure to know that the Lasombra would not let this special day pass without some sort of celebration on her part. But his birthday had come and gone, and still... nothing.
Isabella had patience, Nod damn it. She could wait weeks, months, even years, to enact a plan. This plan, to drive Haine insane with waiting, would only last a week. It wouldn't do to drive the poor thing over the edge, now would it? So, a week after his birthday had passed, Isabella calmly, patiently waited until nightfall, and made her way to his room.
Tapping on the door, the sound almost inaudible to the human ear, she leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for the boy to answer, her hands decieveingly devoid of any form of gift.
Yet she had promised one.
How odd...
Location: Haine's Room ( 8219 (Deck 5) )
Date: Approximately a week after Haine's Birthday
Rating: R for gore.
Isabella liked the element of surprise. She also enjoyed making her prey suffer, knowing that she was going to attack, but giving no clues as to when. Haine, having a brain in his head, was sure to know that the Lasombra would not let this special day pass without some sort of celebration on her part. But his birthday had come and gone, and still... nothing.
Isabella had patience, Nod damn it. She could wait weeks, months, even years, to enact a plan. This plan, to drive Haine insane with waiting, would only last a week. It wouldn't do to drive the poor thing over the edge, now would it? So, a week after his birthday had passed, Isabella calmly, patiently waited until nightfall, and made her way to his room.
Tapping on the door, the sound almost inaudible to the human ear, she leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for the boy to answer, her hands decieveingly devoid of any form of gift.
Yet she had promised one.
How odd...