Comments | lastvoyageslogs: For Services Rendered

rayney_day in lastvoyageslogs

For Services Rendered

Oct 01, 2008 05:17

Who: Rayne/Joker/Butcheress
When: Five minutes after Rayne and the Joker made the arrangement.
Where: Joker's room, then the Butcheress' own ( Read more... )

Comments 3

(The comment has been removed)

rayney_day October 1 2008, 07:13:31 UTC

Had she not been given to the influence of alcohol, Rayne would have likely found it very easy to turn the tables. Unpredictability was a talent, all of its own, but she had slaughtered her way thorugh possibly madder than he. Or at least, more primal. She could mentally process, physically reflex, at such a speed, that time could virtually stand quite still, allowing the dhampir to slip wherever she may, like an oil slick of pure electric motion.

But Rayne was drunk. Drunk enough to have made a decision as ridiculously irresponsible as this. Drunk enough to have been taken unawares and squint up at the would-be abductor with a half-aware, quarter-filled insanity of her own. A story of salacious perversity unfolded, was heard and even registered and still she looked. Looked on and reacted. Tilted head, like some captivated big cat, intent at trying to work out which way the bouncing circle of light, bequeathed by torch upon wall, would head to next.

That a-way...

With a just-as-vicious, "Nuhhh...!" The damp sensation of pain was ( ... )

(The comment has been removed)

rayney_day October 1 2008, 08:05:31 UTC

Paint smeared in a latter-day twisting of Bonnie and Clyde. Excitement and alcohol, blood and treasure; if only for a fleeting moment, it all seemed to merge as one. Reawakened, momentary teenaged memories intertwining with raw, adult sexuality. Masculine, embracing psychosis and feminine, scratching desire.

And somewhere, deep down in the middle of it all, without even physically being there, at all, was the Butcheress. The cause for Rayne's encroaching madness and an all consuming itch in need of being cut away with a surgical application of scissored blades. The filth, the grease, it was all there - wrapped up in a swastika and topped off with a smile.

"Good for you, puddin'," hissed the half-vampiress, once the climax of crushing mouths had subsided. "Wouldn't wanna' deprive you of a punchline, would I, now ( ... )

Thread 6