(no subject)
for wickedfairytale
The lighting in this girls' lavatory was absolutely appalling. Fluorescents should be banned permanently, and banished to some unspeakable hell dimension. Quor-Toth would work just nicely. But I suppose, beggars can't be choosers. I hurried into the tiny room at final bell, after catching a glimpse of myself in the glass of the window, and seeing the bruise on my cheek beginning to show through the cover-up. Why is it the more expensive stuff worked even less than the cheap make-up?
I stooped, wincing slightly, checking for feet under each stall door and sighed with relief, seeing the place was totally empty. I could avoid any ugly questions then. My cosmetics bag was set on the edge of one of the sinks, as I leaned forward to study my reflection. Close, true up close, I looked bad. But... you should see the other guy. Or rather, the pile of dust I left in my wake.
I had stood on my balcony for a solid hour, watching the fire burn. Saying silent prayers that all inside had gotten to safety, or at least, never suffered one bit. Fire was a terrible way to go, and even worse if you survived it. I stood there, watching... then I went back in, to prepare for a night of hunting.
I didn't figure anyone would be dumb enough to go out after the explosion. The shockwave from the blast had been felt all over town, windows shattered out blocks away. But there was always that chance, one out too late, wrong place, wrong time. Besides, I was feeling quite restless, and with the writer's block I had, the walk at night could be relieving.
A few hours passed, silent as a grave. Not even evil was stirring. Strange. It almost felt too quiet. I was about to turn in and call it quits when I heard the scream. A fledging, dirt still clinging to his burial clothes, had caught a waitress heading home after the late shift. I managed to pull the woman away before he could get a lock on her neck, a good solid kick to the back of his head stunning him for a moment. Unfortunately, as his meal escaped, I became his new target. A left hook turned my head, sent me sprawling backwards over a gravestone, the rock slamming into my lower back, hard enough to drive the breath from my body, the tip of my concealed weapon jabbing me. Gasping, I curled up and rolled backwards, ignoring the pain to keep myself up. I managed to dodge the next punch, using the motion to draw the short sword from the sheath down my back. He never saw the blade coming for him, slicing through the air without a sound, his head making a solid thud in the dirt before crumbling to dust.
I twisted open the small tube, gingerly daubbing the liquid onto my cheek. The green and yellow that shone through the first layer looked sickly. I set the tube and cap down, turning around before the mirror. Carefully lifting up the back of my shirt, I winced at the black and blue marks spread from my waistline to just under my ribs. I suppose I was lucky, not to have cracked my spine, or just for the fact that I was still moving.
The lighting in this girls' lavatory was absolutely appalling. Fluorescents should be banned permanently, and banished to some unspeakable hell dimension. Quor-Toth would work just nicely. But I suppose, beggars can't be choosers. I hurried into the tiny room at final bell, after catching a glimpse of myself in the glass of the window, and seeing the bruise on my cheek beginning to show through the cover-up. Why is it the more expensive stuff worked even less than the cheap make-up?
I stooped, wincing slightly, checking for feet under each stall door and sighed with relief, seeing the place was totally empty. I could avoid any ugly questions then. My cosmetics bag was set on the edge of one of the sinks, as I leaned forward to study my reflection. Close, true up close, I looked bad. But... you should see the other guy. Or rather, the pile of dust I left in my wake.
I had stood on my balcony for a solid hour, watching the fire burn. Saying silent prayers that all inside had gotten to safety, or at least, never suffered one bit. Fire was a terrible way to go, and even worse if you survived it. I stood there, watching... then I went back in, to prepare for a night of hunting.
I didn't figure anyone would be dumb enough to go out after the explosion. The shockwave from the blast had been felt all over town, windows shattered out blocks away. But there was always that chance, one out too late, wrong place, wrong time. Besides, I was feeling quite restless, and with the writer's block I had, the walk at night could be relieving.
A few hours passed, silent as a grave. Not even evil was stirring. Strange. It almost felt too quiet. I was about to turn in and call it quits when I heard the scream. A fledging, dirt still clinging to his burial clothes, had caught a waitress heading home after the late shift. I managed to pull the woman away before he could get a lock on her neck, a good solid kick to the back of his head stunning him for a moment. Unfortunately, as his meal escaped, I became his new target. A left hook turned my head, sent me sprawling backwards over a gravestone, the rock slamming into my lower back, hard enough to drive the breath from my body, the tip of my concealed weapon jabbing me. Gasping, I curled up and rolled backwards, ignoring the pain to keep myself up. I managed to dodge the next punch, using the motion to draw the short sword from the sheath down my back. He never saw the blade coming for him, slicing through the air without a sound, his head making a solid thud in the dirt before crumbling to dust.
I twisted open the small tube, gingerly daubbing the liquid onto my cheek. The green and yellow that shone through the first layer looked sickly. I set the tube and cap down, turning around before the mirror. Carefully lifting up the back of my shirt, I winced at the black and blue marks spread from my waistline to just under my ribs. I suppose I was lucky, not to have cracked my spine, or just for the fact that I was still moving.