Room 238, the Hyperion
Angel was asleep. And as he slept, his mind flashed to
A girl, running down the street, her heart pounding with terror which was the sweetest sound of all. The sound of her pulse makes him feel a warm ache in places that have been cold for too long.
She turns a corner. Hands grab her. They're firm. Gentle. They project a safety that she lets herself believe for just a second, and that's all he needs to rejoice in the look of betrayal when it hits her face.
Fangs. Throat. Red, hot, utterly delicious blood. Human blood.
As though the scar on her neck wasn't enough, he marks her cheek as well. A cross, cut right into her perfect, pale skin.
She's dead, but that doesn't mean he can't do the courtesy of leaving a calling card.
After all, that was the sort of smug final insult that he liked best.
The beauty of that appealed to Angel almost as much as licking her blood off of his lips.
[ooc: Locked to the houseboy Logan]
A girl, running down the street, her heart pounding with terror which was the sweetest sound of all. The sound of her pulse makes him feel a warm ache in places that have been cold for too long.
She turns a corner. Hands grab her. They're firm. Gentle. They project a safety that she lets herself believe for just a second, and that's all he needs to rejoice in the look of betrayal when it hits her face.
Fangs. Throat. Red, hot, utterly delicious blood. Human blood.
As though the scar on her neck wasn't enough, he marks her cheek as well. A cross, cut right into her perfect, pale skin.
She's dead, but that doesn't mean he can't do the courtesy of leaving a calling card.
After all, that was the sort of smug final insult that he liked best.
The beauty of that appealed to Angel almost as much as licking her blood off of his lips.
[ooc: Locked to the houseboy Logan]