Rotation IV.

[torchicked]

>V I D E O_

[Oh, what's that? The device is on? The only way you can tell is that across what would be the black blank of the screen, alternately darker and lighter shadows are moving; there's definitely something being filmed, though it's hard to tell what. All you can make out, if you squint hard enough, is that the screen is in chaos

Comments

[COMMENTLOG OF FIVE MINUTES BEFORE

[nomnomguts]

[This time, she'd gone hungry for longer than usual, because gutted bodies were unfortunately obvious, and Riful was not about to give herself away for a single meal. Not so soon, after the ill-fated youma invasion. That would be entirely too careless, and she had invested far too much time and effort in her human guise to toss it away now.

But the hunger stirred, uneasy and demanding, and so finally she'd gone hunting along the rooftops, searching for likely-- easy prey.

That night, a slim shape in a dark alley had been all she needed, and Riful struck without hesitation, dropping out of the sky and into the shadows.]

[COMMENTLOG OF FIVE MINUTES BEFORE

[torchicked]

[Lafayel had not relaxed his guard -- the monsters, especially the ones in swarms, were (much as he detested to admit it) something to be reckoned with and he had never trusted humans or humanoids -- but under cover of darkness there were less people in the streets. Less potential nuisances who might think he wanted something to do with them; and he would hardly cower in his apartment like a rabbit no matter how like one of them he was made to be

[COMMENTLOG OF FIVE MINUTES BEFORE]

[nomnomguts]

[Not a clean stroke, and what a pity, because she'd much rather this end quickly, with as little fuss as possible. This narrow alley does not work to her advantage, and Riful bares her teeth in a silent snarl as her prey jerks away, because she cannot afford to be recognized, and she cannot afford to fail.

She shifts her grip, pulling back a step-- and feels the resistance of flesh, sword hilt scraping against the wall. Oh. Well, if that was the case... Riful forces her weight down on the sword, thrusting down and out-- trying to turn a shallow stab into a lethal one.]

[COMMENTLOG OF FIVE MINUTES BEFORE] last one from me

[torchicked]

[He fights for breath, blinded and only able to discern his enemy by tracking patterns in the dark (when had the last light winked out behind a wall?); struggles fruitlessly to extract the sword or escape, but his hands are too slippery.]

How-- you--

[A choke as the blade begins to move; he doubles over and spots dance across his eyes, darker than the darkness and the dark shape of what could be his own foot or another's.

His mind slipslides faster than his faltering grip -- he almost laughs. Here we go again.]

[COMMENTLOG OF FIVE MINUTES BEFORE] /o/

[nomnomguts]

[It seems to do the trick-- she frowns down at the slumped figure impaled on the end of her sword. That was nearly more trouble than it was worth. Riful prefers a more personal touch with this sort of thing, but there really had been a reason she'd stuck with the gun for so long.

...

It only takes one, two slashes with the blade, a clean 'X' cut and she nibbles experimentally before digging in. The taste is off, just a little, perhaps more than a little, but she is far too hungry to care. Fresh guts were better than those of charred corpses, and far more to her taste as well.

Of course, it doesn't take her long to regret that decision. She tires more easily in this body, and hacking off body parts was a little difficult in the narrow confines of the alley-- all of this was really so very convenient, she doesn't even know why she bothers. The nausea catches her by surprise. She's halfway through a proper dismembering, not expecting her knees to wobble or to nearly throw up on her work