Vassago (millipede_death) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-09-28 15:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | vassago |
Who: Vassago
What: Stalking a pretty lady
Where: The hotel and then near a library
When: Late noon
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Vassago slept in the hotel room during the day. With the heavy drapes drawn and the windows tinted, he wasn’t bothered by the rays of sun that would have otherwise pierced through the glass. He slept until the last remainder of the day was old news and when he got up, there was food and a shower, which meant that he didn’t have to waste his money on a motel room that he would have only used for a few hours, if that. Everything was clean and well placed, and when he was gone somebody was sent in to tidy the place up, to make the bed and pick up old candy wrappers off the floor. Usually, Vassago didn’t care much for somebody coming into his personal space, but with nothing incriminating in the room, he was accepting of the extra help.
Over the course of his first two weeks living in the Sunset Tower Hotel, two floors below Damien, Vassago had begun to notice the problem that he had with his eyes and how it didn’t seem as bad as it had been before. He found that he could stand across the road from a streetlight without sunglasses and that he could switch on the small lamp near his bed and blink only five times and no more. There would be no strolling down a sidewalk at noon, no walking into a brilliantly lit room, but what he had was an improvement and he appreciated that.
He’d taken a silver Camaro from a tipsy socialite after slitting his throat in a restroom on a Sunday night. The car was beautiful and new and Vassago marveled at the leather seats, at the color that shone under the light, at its fluid way of moving down a paved street. With his sunglasses thrown on the passenger seat next to him for the first time in months, the vehicle tore out of its parking spot and straight into traffic.
Museum, park, clinic, toy store, library… Vassago peered out from the side of his vision and rested his head back against the seat when the cars ahead of him stopped for whatever reason. Traffic crawled along at a snail’s pace and as it set forth slowly, he saw her, a bright, lively woman, all pale red hair, hazel eyes and a gray suit draped in a black jacket. She walked briskly, with purpose into the library and Vassago couldn’t let her go. He pulled the Camaro into the nook of a curb and turned and pulled the key from the ignition.
The wolf had just found the doe, and the doe was alone and vulnerable. He would stalk her all night if he had to. The prize at the end would be well worth his efforts.