Wednesday: January 23, 2008
Who: Hayate & Sanura
When: Late Evening/Night
Where: The outskirts of town, and then to a shack in the woods.
What: Hayate is not a happy camper.
WARNING(S): Physical and psychological torture, which may not be suitable or stomach-able for some. There will be blood!

Hayate’s nerves were on edge. They had been on edge for weeks. The cigarette twitched in his hand as he brought it to his lips and sucked in the smoke. The vampire never smoked because of the nicotine or the calming effect it sometimes had on humans. In fact, tobacco was too weak to have any sort of effect on him or any other vampire. Newly turned ones might have still done it out of habit, but Hayate never knew cigarettes in his time as a human and therefore could not recall any memories of its effects to use it as a placebo. He only knew the effects of opium, and there was no opium in Elysium that he knew of. He would not touch it even if it existed here.

He did it to occupy his hands, to give them something to do. Even that feeling did not last long, and he threw the rolled up paper to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot on the wet grass. The burning tip extinguished quickly, little trails of smoke trying to reach up from the ground before vanishing into the cold, damp air. The rain from this morning still lingered across the land, and Hayate could smell it as if it had fallen only minutes ago.

Pulling his coat around himself, he scowled at the darkening sky and took off towards the forest’s border. The trees were tall and ominous here, looming over the edge of the land like sentinels of nature. There was nothing frightening about the forest to Hayate, though. The animals had better reason to fear him, for the vampire knew how to hunt them down and kill them with only a knife in his hand or less. He had the learned reflexes of hunting from years and years of stalking animals when he could not get human prey. Plenty of animals in Elysium were slaughtered in the forest by his hands alone, even the large felines of the mountains.

Hayate growled in the back of his throat, livid with the thoughts of murder inside of his head, and ran headlong for a tree. His feet touched the base, and he kicked up, leaping high enough to catch a low branch and swing his body up into the sturdy branches. Immediately, his finely tuned eyes were scanning the lower grounds for movement, his stillness going unnoticed by any passersby.

Though he knew the one who poisoned him, he wanted to exact punishment on whoever he could just because he was capable of it. Hayate did not care who he hurt at this point, as long as he got his revenge in one way or another.