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Locked to Wes/Jess
Who: Samaire
What: meeting with the wrong end of a blade
Where: Back alleyway
When: After midnight
It was well after midnight before Samaire called it a night. The moon hung high in the onyx sky and it was nights like these that even in a city teeming with people, one could still feel completely alone. She pulled her black wrap around sweater tighter around herself, in attempt to ward off the crisp breeze. Normally, she had Nathan or Johnny drive her home, but it was a decent night and she felt bad having someone else wait on her while she worked late into the night. No, instead she decided to walk the six blocks from the office to her apartment. Plus, it wasn't as if she lived in the Bronx, or that she wasn't a witch who had a power that could be used defensively.
Cutting down an alleyway, Samaire found herself surprised by something lurking in the shadows. Seconds before he moved, she allowed her eyes to linger on a part of the shadows that was slightly darker than the rest of it. She passed it off as nothing, thinking it was simply her mind playing tricks on her. It was best to keep moving. Then there was a flicker of movement, but before she could actually allow it to register, it was all over. In a flash he was upon her, she caught the glint of the knife in a split second before he plunged it into her side. the fair haired man twisted the hilt of the knife, a soundless cry escaped her lips, shock registering upon her features. Her whole world felt like it was shattering around her. The man drew it back, and a sickening, liquid sound came from her stomach before he drove the knife into her three more times. Her world went silver and grey, her mouth parted in a silent cry as Samaire's fingers grasped onto her attacker's arms. The world around her seemed to slow; halt. As if everything had been moving full speed until that three inch curved blade found its sheath in her waiting flesh.
"Daniel DeTagle sends his regards," The man spat at her with a glistening fanged smile as the ground rose up to meet her. Somehow, she had managed to by laying on her back, eyes staring up at the stars. She could swear that one went out, as she let out a shuttering breath, warmth entering her mouth as she coughed up her own blood. So this was how it felt, leaving the world. Painful, scary-- alone. Oh god. She was completely alone. Panic rose up and seemed to gather in her chest, heart clammering so incredibly loud that its seemingly final beats reverberated in her ears. She didn't want to leave now, she had so much more to do. Maybe this was all her fault. If she took the vampires threats seriously...if she brought it up to the council sooner... maybe...maybe...
Fuck.
Her vision went black for a moment before regaining sight. No one would help her now. And this was it. A life of little more than twenty years, few accomplishments-- and this was it. A few strokes from a metal blade and she was done for. The world's youngest crone and within months of retaining the role, she was brought down. Now all she could do was wait. Count the seconds before her untimely demise. Moments that dragged and seemed to last for days. Life was fleeting afterall, Samaire couldn't help but thinking that her own was pointless, she hadn't done all that she was supposed to... she had dreamt of change. Setting the world ablaze with new ideas; something. A cough escaped, blood wetting her pale lips as her eyelids fluttered and the pain engulfed her thoughts.
It wouldn't be long now.
What: meeting with the wrong end of a blade
Where: Back alleyway
When: After midnight
It was well after midnight before Samaire called it a night. The moon hung high in the onyx sky and it was nights like these that even in a city teeming with people, one could still feel completely alone. She pulled her black wrap around sweater tighter around herself, in attempt to ward off the crisp breeze. Normally, she had Nathan or Johnny drive her home, but it was a decent night and she felt bad having someone else wait on her while she worked late into the night. No, instead she decided to walk the six blocks from the office to her apartment. Plus, it wasn't as if she lived in the Bronx, or that she wasn't a witch who had a power that could be used defensively.
Cutting down an alleyway, Samaire found herself surprised by something lurking in the shadows. Seconds before he moved, she allowed her eyes to linger on a part of the shadows that was slightly darker than the rest of it. She passed it off as nothing, thinking it was simply her mind playing tricks on her. It was best to keep moving. Then there was a flicker of movement, but before she could actually allow it to register, it was all over. In a flash he was upon her, she caught the glint of the knife in a split second before he plunged it into her side. the fair haired man twisted the hilt of the knife, a soundless cry escaped her lips, shock registering upon her features. Her whole world felt like it was shattering around her. The man drew it back, and a sickening, liquid sound came from her stomach before he drove the knife into her three more times. Her world went silver and grey, her mouth parted in a silent cry as Samaire's fingers grasped onto her attacker's arms. The world around her seemed to slow; halt. As if everything had been moving full speed until that three inch curved blade found its sheath in her waiting flesh.
"Daniel DeTagle sends his regards," The man spat at her with a glistening fanged smile as the ground rose up to meet her. Somehow, she had managed to by laying on her back, eyes staring up at the stars. She could swear that one went out, as she let out a shuttering breath, warmth entering her mouth as she coughed up her own blood. So this was how it felt, leaving the world. Painful, scary-- alone. Oh god. She was completely alone. Panic rose up and seemed to gather in her chest, heart clammering so incredibly loud that its seemingly final beats reverberated in her ears. She didn't want to leave now, she had so much more to do. Maybe this was all her fault. If she took the vampires threats seriously...if she brought it up to the council sooner... maybe...maybe...
Fuck.
Her vision went black for a moment before regaining sight. No one would help her now. And this was it. A life of little more than twenty years, few accomplishments-- and this was it. A few strokes from a metal blade and she was done for. The world's youngest crone and within months of retaining the role, she was brought down. Now all she could do was wait. Count the seconds before her untimely demise. Moments that dragged and seemed to last for days. Life was fleeting afterall, Samaire couldn't help but thinking that her own was pointless, she hadn't done all that she was supposed to... she had dreamt of change. Setting the world ablaze with new ideas; something. A cough escaped, blood wetting her pale lips as her eyelids fluttered and the pain engulfed her thoughts.
It wouldn't be long now.