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Week Six: Saturday
When: Night
Where: Streets of Seattle near Old Towers
Who: OPEN
Keisuke walked slowly, feeling the rain running down his hair, rain seeping into his clothes, plastering his outer dress shirt to the two long-sleeved shirts he wore inside. His hands were empty, hanging loosely at his side. The rain had begun to taper off, the lights on the street shining, streaking, painting the water and oil washed city in glistening colors. At another time, he might have been inclined to admit it beautiful in its own twisted, contemporary style, ugly modern buildings awash in lights. Right now, he was too tired to care.
He was annoyed, the human he'd been plying that night had slipped through his fingers, the girl with her big eyes and lips that were too red, the alcohol stinking her breath. He had been able to smell everything about her, her entire day just from the scent that oozed from her pores, cleanser, perfume, onion and garlic from her dinner, the fact that she had eaten a large meal with meat sometime that day. The smells had been a sickening mix, but one that he forced himself to accept as he smiled at her, his eyes fake but understanding, his words complimentary but with just enough of a lead, suggestive, but not forceful. And then it had all slipped away with her stupid boyfriend, the dumb human had tracked them down at the bar. He'd been too disgusted by the drama, already annoyed at the loudness of the club, the shouting and music and the smells, so many smells that made him sick and hungry at the same time. The man, his eyes red and flared in drunken anger and jealousy, grabbing her hand and yelling, hands gesturing. He could have made him leave, could have taken her and left, taken her back to her place, soothed her mind, numbed her to confusion and fed.
But he left, slipping away, using his ability to amplify emotion to make the confusion, the anger, the love stronger, so that neither would remember him by the end of the night, as they continued in their dance of human emotions. And so he walked, hungry still, tired from the wasted efforts, rain falling, not wanting to take a taxi, just slowly moving his way from street to street back towards the towers. He kept to the inner side of the sidewalk, moving smoothly but slowly, his steps quiet by nature, measured by practice. Cold, wet, hungry- times like this made him miserable and tired and oh so old. Miserable. The times when he hit full on blood lust, when will battled instinctual need to feed, those were the most horrible, to have your body betray you was a feeling like no other he had ever experienced. But wet and hungry. Well, miserable was not a fun feeling either.
Where: Streets of Seattle near Old Towers
Who: OPEN
Keisuke walked slowly, feeling the rain running down his hair, rain seeping into his clothes, plastering his outer dress shirt to the two long-sleeved shirts he wore inside. His hands were empty, hanging loosely at his side. The rain had begun to taper off, the lights on the street shining, streaking, painting the water and oil washed city in glistening colors. At another time, he might have been inclined to admit it beautiful in its own twisted, contemporary style, ugly modern buildings awash in lights. Right now, he was too tired to care.
He was annoyed, the human he'd been plying that night had slipped through his fingers, the girl with her big eyes and lips that were too red, the alcohol stinking her breath. He had been able to smell everything about her, her entire day just from the scent that oozed from her pores, cleanser, perfume, onion and garlic from her dinner, the fact that she had eaten a large meal with meat sometime that day. The smells had been a sickening mix, but one that he forced himself to accept as he smiled at her, his eyes fake but understanding, his words complimentary but with just enough of a lead, suggestive, but not forceful. And then it had all slipped away with her stupid boyfriend, the dumb human had tracked them down at the bar. He'd been too disgusted by the drama, already annoyed at the loudness of the club, the shouting and music and the smells, so many smells that made him sick and hungry at the same time. The man, his eyes red and flared in drunken anger and jealousy, grabbing her hand and yelling, hands gesturing. He could have made him leave, could have taken her and left, taken her back to her place, soothed her mind, numbed her to confusion and fed.
But he left, slipping away, using his ability to amplify emotion to make the confusion, the anger, the love stronger, so that neither would remember him by the end of the night, as they continued in their dance of human emotions. And so he walked, hungry still, tired from the wasted efforts, rain falling, not wanting to take a taxi, just slowly moving his way from street to street back towards the towers. He kept to the inner side of the sidewalk, moving smoothly but slowly, his steps quiet by nature, measured by practice. Cold, wet, hungry- times like this made him miserable and tired and oh so old. Miserable. The times when he hit full on blood lust, when will battled instinctual need to feed, those were the most horrible, to have your body betray you was a feeling like no other he had ever experienced. But wet and hungry. Well, miserable was not a fun feeling either.