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tampered2006-09-04 03:14 am
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-09-04 03:14 am
Log; Complete
When; Sept. 3 (after midnight)
Rating; PG-13/R?
Characters; The Corinthian (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bitingnightmare), Scarab (noh_dancer)
Summary; Just barely arrived and already The City is toying with him, until chance should dictate he cross paths with the dreaming woman.
Log;
"Come here you little beast."
The Corinthian clawed at the wall. Upon first glance it might have seemed like the man was insane, scraping his nails across concrete out of anger, or maybe he was trying to brush some pesky illusions away. A closer inspection would reveal he was attacking one smaller but far quicker than he. Whatever it was it darted low and left, narrowly escaping the nightmare's clutches.
"I promise it won't hurt," he hissed at his prey. Even sightless he managed to deftly maneuver the butterfly knife.
The mongrel backed against a dumpster, its shaggy tail tucked under itself. It whimpered at the would be dog catcher but the blond heard no heart wrenching canine plea for its life, all he heard was the animal giving away its position. He slashed at the metal side, causing the dog to scramble between the heavy wheels. The Corinthian quickly brought his heavy boot down on a grey tail before it could escape. The dog yelped sharply.
"Gotcha!!"
Not but moments later The Corinthian reemerged with a pair of sticky spheres in his hand, his clothing remained virtually bloodless. He pocketed his knife then removed his glasses. This was something he swore to seldom do, but this situation called for desperate measures. He pulled the red strings of meat aside and fit both brown eyes into his little mouths. His tongues rolled them into place as his teeth preciously prepared them for consumption. He stopped their gnashing edges before they could break the soft white layer. It hurt but it would do.
The nightmare looked through them, his eyes.
"........ .... Motherfucker."
It was like looking through the 1939 Du Mont in Lucien's library.
Whoever had done this to him would pay dearly. No good deed, prank or not, goes unrewarded after all. He propped his sunglasses back on and stalked out of the service street.
Rating; PG-13/R?
Characters; The Corinthian (
bitingnightmare), Scarab (noh_dancer)Summary; Just barely arrived and already The City is toying with him, until chance should dictate he cross paths with the dreaming woman.
Log;
"Come here you little beast."
The Corinthian clawed at the wall. Upon first glance it might have seemed like the man was insane, scraping his nails across concrete out of anger, or maybe he was trying to brush some pesky illusions away. A closer inspection would reveal he was attacking one smaller but far quicker than he. Whatever it was it darted low and left, narrowly escaping the nightmare's clutches.
"I promise it won't hurt," he hissed at his prey. Even sightless he managed to deftly maneuver the butterfly knife.
The mongrel backed against a dumpster, its shaggy tail tucked under itself. It whimpered at the would be dog catcher but the blond heard no heart wrenching canine plea for its life, all he heard was the animal giving away its position. He slashed at the metal side, causing the dog to scramble between the heavy wheels. The Corinthian quickly brought his heavy boot down on a grey tail before it could escape. The dog yelped sharply.
"Gotcha!!"
Not but moments later The Corinthian reemerged with a pair of sticky spheres in his hand, his clothing remained virtually bloodless. He pocketed his knife then removed his glasses. This was something he swore to seldom do, but this situation called for desperate measures. He pulled the red strings of meat aside and fit both brown eyes into his little mouths. His tongues rolled them into place as his teeth preciously prepared them for consumption. He stopped their gnashing edges before they could break the soft white layer. It hurt but it would do.
The nightmare looked through them, his eyes.
"........ .... Motherfucker."
It was like looking through the 1939 Du Mont in Lucien's library.
Whoever had done this to him would pay dearly. No good deed, prank or not, goes unrewarded after all. He propped his sunglasses back on and stalked out of the service street.