James (break_you_down) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-11-26 21:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | james, kara zor-el |
Who: James and OPEN (preferably not a normal, defenseless human just yet.)
What: The natives don’t appreciate the newcomer hunting on their turf. James doesn’t seem to care about what they think.
When: Night, 9 pm, give or take a few minutes.
Where: Downtown, near a less populated area.
Rating: PG-13
It had been a day that felt more like an hour and already, James was bored and angry and lonelier than he wanted to admit to being. He hadn’t been away from Victoria, not since… well, not ever if you didn’t take into account those times when they separated during one of his hunts, when they went their separate ways to better the chances of success. To not know where she was, to not know if she was safe or hurt or missing him was absolute agony and James found himself pacing back and forth, gritting his teeth and biting down so hard that occasionally, he could hear the bones crunch from the sheer impact of his snapping jaws.
Leaping from the edge of an old, abandoned one story diner, he landed flawlessly, gracefully on the pavement below. He straightened himself out of his crouch, tilted his head back and took in a potent whiff of the circling city air, reeking of car fumes, fast food and dirty human beings. It was the scents of the men and women and children that made his mouth water with impatience and dissatisfied hunger. Flexing his white fingers, running his tongue along the top row of teeth, James followed the fragrance of his soon to be prey into an alley on the other side of the road, shut off from the rest of the block by bright yellow police tape.
The tape ripped and flitted to the ground when he tore passed it, not bothering to remove the obstacle or jump over it to get into where he wanted to be. The second he had stepped foot in the alley, he had interrupted the preparing of a snack that had yet to be consumed. Three bodies, all with bumpy faces and yellow eyes, turned to take him in, displeased that he had decided to crash their party. Their hostility couldn’t have been more evident if they had decided to scream at him, if they’d stomped and shook in anger. All three growled at him at the exact same time and James, seeing their annoyance and hearing their animosity, lazily cracked a smile and made his move.
Hurling himself into their personal space, he reached out for two of them and tightening his fingers around their necks, he, without so much as trying, ripped off their heads and pulled back his leg to deliver a fatal kick to their friend. His boot met the other male’s neck and like his dead companions, his head was dislodged and he vanished in a cloud of dust.
Satisfied with himself, the predator’s red eyes shifted to the girl backed up against the wall, stricken motionless with terror, shaking and defenseless. Not giving her the chance to comprehend what was happening, he grabbed her by the arm, pulled her close, covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her out onto the street.
Lowering his lips to her neck, right above, not yet touching, he whispered to her, low, in a way that, if blind and not able to see his hungry eyes and his rough hands, one would have possibly mistaken for a loving gesture. “I’m going to dedicate you to Victoria. If she were here, I’m sure she would have loved you. You’re just her type.”
She tried to scream. She withered in his grasp, desperate, dismayed. Without giving a warning, without appearing as if he were going to do it, James lifted her up off the ground and launched her into the front of a building that stood on the other side of the street. Her body met the brick with a loud, ill-fated smack, and James shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
“Unfortunately, you’re not my type.”