Appealing to, Night World
Appealing to,
Night World (the Chosen)
ficlet
by CrevanFox
Night World is copyrighted to L.J. Smith. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction
She almost has sympathy for him, for it, it. It's not a person.
Standing over him, looking down at her quarry, Rashel doesn't quite feel like the hunter she knows she is. Hunters don't feel pity for their prey. She's a killer, she has to be, to stop something worse. Killers don't sympathize.
So why does she feel so damn unsure? The Cat doesn't hestitate, She acts.
Why isn't she acting?
At her feet the vampire stirs a little. Tugs at his cuffs before he's even fully awake. Waking up to a trap must really suck, no pun intended. Ugh, she did not just put herself in the leeches place.
There's a little girl somewhere who might worry and care for the creature in front of her. She's small and missing a sock but both her mother and her best friend are still alive.
But damn she's introspective tonight, Rashel decides as she shifts into a crouching position.
There's something about this hunt that's off. And it's not just the upcoming torture either.
It's him. He's different somehow, although she cann't come up with a single identifable thing that makes him unique.
Damn this night is all fucked up and wouldn't she rather be home right now? Safe and Comfortable?
She snorts.
She never lets herself get comfortable in her foster home of the moment, what a joke. And she knows she's not safe. No matter where she is, these things are everywhere. They are lethal; just ask Timmy, of her Mom, or her Aunt, or her mentor.
There are no safe places and what kind of person would she be if she let herself get comfortable when these things are out there?
No, Rashel decides, no pity, no sympathy. This is war and they started it.
But she can finish it, a tiny voice whispers and she shifts the weight to her other leg, uneasy. She kills, but she doesn't torture. She could end this now, before it goes to far, and while she still has the tattered remains of her honour.
Standing, Rashel draws her katana, centers herself over the leech and breathes deeply.
Killing him now is just better for everyone.
Night World (the Chosen)
ficlet
by CrevanFox
Night World is copyrighted to L.J. Smith. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction
She almost has sympathy for him, for it, it. It's not a person.
Standing over him, looking down at her quarry, Rashel doesn't quite feel like the hunter she knows she is. Hunters don't feel pity for their prey. She's a killer, she has to be, to stop something worse. Killers don't sympathize.
So why does she feel so damn unsure? The Cat doesn't hestitate, She acts.
Why isn't she acting?
At her feet the vampire stirs a little. Tugs at his cuffs before he's even fully awake. Waking up to a trap must really suck, no pun intended. Ugh, she did not just put herself in the leeches place.
There's a little girl somewhere who might worry and care for the creature in front of her. She's small and missing a sock but both her mother and her best friend are still alive.
But damn she's introspective tonight, Rashel decides as she shifts into a crouching position.
There's something about this hunt that's off. And it's not just the upcoming torture either.
It's him. He's different somehow, although she cann't come up with a single identifable thing that makes him unique.
Damn this night is all fucked up and wouldn't she rather be home right now? Safe and Comfortable?
She snorts.
She never lets herself get comfortable in her foster home of the moment, what a joke. And she knows she's not safe. No matter where she is, these things are everywhere. They are lethal; just ask Timmy, of her Mom, or her Aunt, or her mentor.
There are no safe places and what kind of person would she be if she let herself get comfortable when these things are out there?
No, Rashel decides, no pity, no sympathy. This is war and they started it.
But she can finish it, a tiny voice whispers and she shifts the weight to her other leg, uneasy. She kills, but she doesn't torture. She could end this now, before it goes to far, and while she still has the tattered remains of her honour.
Standing, Rashel draws her katana, centers herself over the leech and breathes deeply.
Killing him now is just better for everyone.