{CLOSED, COMPLETE} You will die by surprise
WHO: Grell Sutcliff {
chainsaw_juliet}
WHAT: Character death of Ōtsu {
takezooooo}
WHERE: Market District/Housing District
WHEN: Day 117 Midnight
*~*~*
She was a pretty little thing- a silly little nit. Another child of the Orient, just like Mister Despair and Little Miss Sunshine. Before Rivelata, Grell's knowledge about the Orient came from romanticized books. This girl, this Ōtsu, seemed the very embodiment of the mysterious, romantic East. Skin like moonlight- pale yet a little yellowed unlike the pinkish English rose hue. Hair like crushed onyx, unlike the deep chocolate colors found in London.
Beautiful people were wasted here in this boring place.
Rivelata was not as beautifully filthy as Britannia. There was nowhere near the level of corruption present as there existed in London behind the airs of social norm. Grell missed his home dearly.
"Excuse me Miss?" Grell caught her attention as she walked by. He beckoned her to the edge of the alleyway. "Hello Miss, I am terribly sorry for bothering you- I am but a delivery boy and I have boxes of flowers to be sorted to make bouquets for people's beloveds." Beloveds caught her attention. The Soul Reaper smiled inwardly.
"Could you spare me a moment to help sort them by colors?" Touching her hand gently, he offered her a boyish smile. "I could use a keen woman's eye when it comes to such fine arts as flower arranging." Under one arm was a long box and he opened it to show her bundles of lively flowers. He gestured for her to follow him deeper into the alleyway. She did.
"Thank you so very much for agreeing, Miss!" Grinning, he transferred the box into her arms. With her arms now full, Grell Sutcliff reached for his chainsaw and swung at her neck. Not a clean cut this time- no. Just halfway into her throat to sever her vocal chords to prevent her screaming, and to damage her windpipe just so.
He wanted her to watch as he cut off first one leg. Then strip it of flesh. Then the next leg. Then her arm. Then her other arm. Each limb was stripped of skin, muscle, vein and sinew before the bone was tossed away. Suddenly he brought the whirring blade down and severed her head completely.
The contrast of her pale Eastern skin and the garish red blood was beauty unparalleled in the Death God's unearthly bright green eyes. He touched her pale cheek, head unmarred by violence.
"Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber." Quoting from Julius Caesar, Grell smiled sweetly as he closed her eyes.
He was feeling too tired to bake tonight, so flesh, skeleton and clothes were packed into a box. He marked 'warehouse district' and placed it with boxes from another store. Soon the box would be carted off by a dimwitted civilian to a derelict storage unit that housed large items awaiting the furnace. Perfectly undetectable disposal.
*~*~*
On his way home, the redhead paused to tie a familiar ribbon around the doorknob of the house where Ōtsu once lived. Her roommate of a similar name would find it- a killer's calling card or a farewell message? It was up to her.
"What private griefs they have, alas, I know not." He blew a kiss her way, before blending into Midnight's shadows.
chainsaw_juliet}
WHAT: Character death of Ōtsu {
takezooooo}
WHERE: Market District/Housing District
WHEN: Day 117 Midnight
*~*~*
She was a pretty little thing- a silly little nit. Another child of the Orient, just like Mister Despair and Little Miss Sunshine. Before Rivelata, Grell's knowledge about the Orient came from romanticized books. This girl, this Ōtsu, seemed the very embodiment of the mysterious, romantic East. Skin like moonlight- pale yet a little yellowed unlike the pinkish English rose hue. Hair like crushed onyx, unlike the deep chocolate colors found in London.
Beautiful people were wasted here in this boring place.
Rivelata was not as beautifully filthy as Britannia. There was nowhere near the level of corruption present as there existed in London behind the airs of social norm. Grell missed his home dearly.
"Excuse me Miss?" Grell caught her attention as she walked by. He beckoned her to the edge of the alleyway. "Hello Miss, I am terribly sorry for bothering you- I am but a delivery boy and I have boxes of flowers to be sorted to make bouquets for people's beloveds." Beloveds caught her attention. The Soul Reaper smiled inwardly.
"Could you spare me a moment to help sort them by colors?" Touching her hand gently, he offered her a boyish smile. "I could use a keen woman's eye when it comes to such fine arts as flower arranging." Under one arm was a long box and he opened it to show her bundles of lively flowers. He gestured for her to follow him deeper into the alleyway. She did.
"Thank you so very much for agreeing, Miss!" Grinning, he transferred the box into her arms. With her arms now full, Grell Sutcliff reached for his chainsaw and swung at her neck. Not a clean cut this time- no. Just halfway into her throat to sever her vocal chords to prevent her screaming, and to damage her windpipe just so.
He wanted her to watch as he cut off first one leg. Then strip it of flesh. Then the next leg. Then her arm. Then her other arm. Each limb was stripped of skin, muscle, vein and sinew before the bone was tossed away. Suddenly he brought the whirring blade down and severed her head completely.
The contrast of her pale Eastern skin and the garish red blood was beauty unparalleled in the Death God's unearthly bright green eyes. He touched her pale cheek, head unmarred by violence.
"Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber." Quoting from Julius Caesar, Grell smiled sweetly as he closed her eyes.
He was feeling too tired to bake tonight, so flesh, skeleton and clothes were packed into a box. He marked 'warehouse district' and placed it with boxes from another store. Soon the box would be carted off by a dimwitted civilian to a derelict storage unit that housed large items awaiting the furnace. Perfectly undetectable disposal.
*~*~*
On his way home, the redhead paused to tie a familiar ribbon around the doorknob of the house where Ōtsu once lived. Her roommate of a similar name would find it- a killer's calling card or a farewell message? It was up to her.
"What private griefs they have, alas, I know not." He blew a kiss her way, before blending into Midnight's shadows.