Malakai Chmelyk // 'Volos' (volos) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-10-12 21:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | malakai chmelyk, rurik markov |
Who: Malakai and Rurik
What: Acts of desperation
When/Where: Backdated to whenever Kai posted (Yesterday, I believe)/Kai's flat in London
Warnings: Hungry vampire? Mania, blood play, possible implications of not-quite-consentual sex.
As much as Malakai had tried to present a calm, composed air on the message boards, the scene in his apartment was a far different story; the place had been immaculate, a picture of modern upper class living when Malakai had found the key a few days previous. Now, it was almost a wreck- blood spatters dried onto the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, Kai's feeble attempts at preserving the excess blood of the bodies (that's all they were now, bodies) he'd lured back to his place. He had been forced to ice the corpses in his tub, as an amateur would, while he worked; he was too frantic, the smell and sight of the crimson velvet too enticing to even worry about being caught in the murders. He'd worked through the day, paying no mind to the slight burns on his hands and face from where the sun caught his skin; they were healing quickly, and would likely be gone before Rurik arrived.
Rurik.
Malakai swore aloud, looking about the kitchen helplessly, before grabbing one of the human's shirts and trying to wipe up as much of the mess as he could. The fire was burning, disposing of the rest of the girls' clothes as well as masking some of the smell, and he added the soiled shirt to the flame, watching it burn thoughtfully. He felt as though he was spinning out of control, without the drugs, his House, his life. He needed to get ahold of himself, before he devolved as his countryman, the Gula, already seemed to. Sobered by the thought of what exactly he'd just done, Malakai dropped down heavily onto his couch, head in his hands, his own blood-soaked clothes ignored in favor of the disgust that radiated from him in waves.