Like No One's Watching {Noah}

[DAPHNE SASHA ASTOR]

'Dum dum da-dum, dum dum da-dum, dum dumm...' The rest of the wedding march trailed off in a hum. Getting married Daph? No no, of course not! Who would marry the faerie anyways? Who could the faerie tolerate long enough to marry...? That was the better question. Nobody. But the notes were still appropriate, as she was dragging around her newest plaything: a very bloody bride. Snatched, as though by a pickpocket, from her own wedding. Little thing was a blubbering mess, thoroughly amusing the faerie to no end. Hear the bells, jingle jingle, see the white, feel the dangerous. Float into the bridal suite, laugh and giggle and charm the other women out of the room, abduct the lady in white. Pretty screams, resonating at a much higher frequency than the bells. 'Help! I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody!' Giggle brightly. Raw screams hit her sensitive ears anew as she dragged her trophy through the darkened alleys of the circus by her hair. Makeup ran in little rivers of black down the never-Mrs.' cheeks, tempting Daphne to follow them with her tongue. No no, wouldn't do, wouldn't taste good... But might. Might?

A gentle headshake punctuated her refusal to stoop to that level. Scream! They were within earshot of others now, and she'd hate to have her fun ruined by some do-gooder... Smack the little bride about, hushing her pretty mouth.

'No more lovely screams my darling. Somebody might interrupt us, and we can't have that. No no no. More deaths, but these on your hands, if you invite them. Shush now lovely birdie. More blood would ruin the pretty spatter we've already put on your dress- too much of a good thing. Sweet and decadent, filling filling filling, spilling!' A quick lift put the bride in her arms, twirling them around in a macabre dance as the woman whimpered in pain. Lucky petite human, treated to the greatest of dancers and evenings. Sky was sparkly, twinkling and bright, easy to see by. And the things worth seeing! Such a perfect bruise forming on the cheek, and the swell of the split lip. Cherry on top. Cherry-red blood on the white satin. Ah. It was a sight. The human's face showed disagreeable fear. What a nuisance- couldn't even appreciate the little things. Disgust registered on Daphne's pale features, scaring the bride with its implications. Right to fear, right to worry. But not for long. Snap! Branch, twig, fingers, plastic, bone. More like crack, but snap was so poetic... Limp, useless little bride. Daphne kissed her forehead and posed her gently on the ground, like she was getting ready to take a picture of a doll. 'Snap! Camera shutter too...' Snap! Real. Not hers...

The gorgeous fae would know that sound anywhere, that satisfying crunch and crackle of bone breaking and the fragmented pieces rubbing together. Accidental? Intentional? Culprit?? Sneak sneak like a mouse, quiet and careful. So curious! Smile with glee. Intentional. So intentional. She wanted to laugh. Wanted to play. Decided to watch, silent and amused. Yummy, times two...

[NOAH DALLAS TURNER]

• WHEN YOU FEEL MY HEAT, LOOK INTO MY EYES, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

Noah, Noah, Noah, what to do with you?

This was a chant that played in his mind as he strode confidently across the grounds of the circus. Yes, he was referring to himself in third person, and he knew what he was here for, and it was certainly not for a show which he could not have been more indifferent about. There was a tingling sensation in his fingers, the feel of the hot phone that had been pressed to his ear not a few hours ago causing this sensation. It wasn't feeling, but it was more anticipation. The voice had explained what they wanted, and it had honestly been a while since he had a meticulously planned kill, and so this was perfect. He would get paid, it was his job after all, and he could appreciate the big bucks, but he would possibly do it for free. These goals, they are what he strived for, and the guy on the phone said that this woman would be a challenge. The superiority which Noah felt when walking among the earth made him think the contrary. However, he had pulled out all the information he had on this circus. 'Cirque de la Morte' ... so aptly named, because there would be a death there tonight, and Noah would certainly make sure of it, because he almost ached for the stench of blood flowing out of wounds, of the crunch of bones breaking. That caused a wicked smile stir at the corner of his lips.

Noah wore light colours today. Light beige colour for the trousers, and a light jacket, and light brown shoes, because he was so confident that he would not get a single platter of blood on him. Because of his tactics. He would look at every motion of his victims in slow motion, and position himself just so to cause the most damage, but keep himself clean. He was, after all, a professional. The weapons were in his jacket, sheathed away carefully. Sometimes he liked to use his hands, but then again, that could get a little messy. He hummed a soft tune with his lips, his mind open to all the thoughts of those around him with images of the woman which had been described. And from the buzz in the minds of the people at the circus, he could sense that she was a star. All the better. He liked it when the deaths were remembered. Running a hand through his thick hair, Noah's dark brown eyes mercilessly scanned the area, finally resting on a poster. There we go. Bingo. He walked towards the large tent, giving in his money to buy a ticket, because he wouldn't just get on stage and kill her. No, Noah was feeling oh so generous, that he would allow her to live for her last show. Oh great, it starts in five minutes. Noah took his seat, his eyes fixated on the stage, but his whole being on alert as it always was.

The show was ... well, Noah had no opinion on it. He was only fixated on that smooth, tanned skin feeling under the special blade which he had brought for this little angel. Yes. He had an angel blade, and no, it was not easy to get it. Good thing Noah was a good liar, and willing to work for what he needs. Angel blades were fun, and certainly, this one is in the wrong hands. Alas, he didn't seem to think so. He thought it would be perfect in his grip a he made the angel bleed, scream in pain as he broke her bones. Ah yes. You would not be able to tell that Noah had all these thoughts in his mind, he shielded them from other immortals, since he opened his mind to listen to people, but they didn't need to spoil his fin by calling the police. Not that he was scared of them, Noah just wanted to take his time on the beautiful skin. When she show was over, he clapped with the rest of the pack, and as they walked out of the entrance, he walked the way which the woman had left. She was called 'Zora', and she was bendy. Some shallow men would find that a turn on, but it wasn't something Noah paid much attention to. Here, here, come here, little mouse. Another chant, he was close to his goal, to his prey, he just hoped that he would catch her alone. One of the curtains moved a little and he knew that she had gone behind the tent. Oh dear, what a silly mouse, walking right to her death.

Noah struck from behind, his hand slamming against he mouth to keep her from screaming, as he pulled the blade to her neck. She was struggling, but he nicked her skin only slightly to show her that he could do damage. He smiled as she squirmed, brushing his breath against the back of her neck as he smiled. "There there, hush now .. if you be quiet, this'll be over quicker." His voice was cold but soft, icy, and it seemed to make her shiver. He could smell the fear, he could hear her panicked thoughts... "Oh God, what is this? Why is this happening? He has an angel blade!" Oh yes, little duck, no escaping now. Noah tugged her along to a more secluded area, a nice large rock on the field ... he had a plan, but that didn't mean he could improvise for a second. The male did not hesitate as he threw her to the ground, his aim perfect as her skull hit the rock with a cracking motion, and instantly the blood filled the air. Oh God, yes. Noah's smile was cruel now, as he walked towards her. He didn't speak to her, he wasn't here to baby her to get death, he was here to kill. Of course, he could play a little ... Noah took a few steps towards her, breathing the air in, the blood filling his lungs. But he needed more. More. More. More.

He pulled out a small cloth from his pocket, placing it in her mouth, because they were oh so much more pleasant when they kept their mouths shut. The next thing he did, was mercilessly snap her arm back, that a satisfying crunch of the bones was heard, and she was weeping, and he still had the angel blade. "Don't be scared, it'll be over soon." He spoke, his tone low. But then ... then he could feel it. A presence, someone paying attention to him. He stood up, turning his head in the direction of the attention. He was taken off guard for a split second as all he heard from the person's head was ... nothing. White noise. He tilted his head, licking his lips as his eyes caught sight of white blond hair. "You can help out if you like, this one is a trooper." His eyes darted back to the woman on the floor, the great Zora with twisted limbs and blood gushing out of her head, but Noah;s hands and clothes still clean. He smiled brightly, eyeing the blonde. "No? Alright then, I'll do it." He nodded, not caring if she stayed to watch or left, and even if she called the cops he would be done in no time. He took the angel blade once more, checking if the tip was sharp enough before drawing a few pretty lines across her neck as she screamed into the rag, not enough to kill her, but cause her pain and the stain of the live blood running down her skin.

Noah closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, a shiver running down his back. Yes. This was what he wanted, the satisfaction .. Jesus, Noah could do this all day. But alas, the woman was dying quickly, and he needed to end this now. He pulled back the knife, before plunging it hard enough into her skull to break the bone, and pierce her brain, and completely take the life out of her. Noah took a few moments to admire his work. Fucking beautiful. In the next moment, he was pouring alcohol on her, and pulling out his lighter. This would cause a scene, but Noah would not be here to see it. He didn't much care if the girl he saw a few moments earlier was still there. He threw the lighter down, watching the body get engulfed in flames, taking a moment to enjoy the stink of burning skin before looking back. He wasn't going to say anything, if the girl stayed there, she would get accused. All the better. He still was curious about why he could not hear her mind ... but he had to walk away from the body, because it would catch attention at any moment.

• DON'T GET TOO CLOSE, IT'S DARK INSIDE, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

[/style][style=font-family:arial narrow;font-size:8px;text-align:center;letter-spacing:3px;text-transform:uppercase;]tagged daphne! | words 1494 | outfit[X] |notes JHBFJH EXCITEDD!

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[DAPHNE SASHA ASTOR]

First impression? Tall... And decadently violent. The crack was a skull, sharply thrown against a rock. Rock and roll. Roll around, whimper and cry. Poor birdie. Angel birdie. Lucky bird, to be tormented with such excellence. Daphne pouted. Not fair, not fair. But watch Daphne, don't interrupt, or you'll ruin the flow. The blood flowed in little rivulets, filling the air, and making her smile, wicked and sharp. She wanted to join, but dared not. It wasn't hers, and she'd hate for somebody to try and 'help' her with any of her prey, so she refrained. But she could watch. She'd never seen somebody else wield pain with such practiced skill as herself. Tall was doing a good job, deriving... Her sensors came back positive for joy, and maybe a little pleasure. But muted, not a complete emotion. Disappointing. Wasn't like Daphne, didn't thrive on it. Wasn't like-

He looked at her, taking her by surprise. Well, it's not like you're invisible Daphne, just sly. A ninja. A stalker, a thief in the night. Her white hair and face were the only things visible around the corner of the tent as he talked to her. How did he know? Know that she'd want to play this game. But no. No no. Not hers. Not the same. Did it need to be the same? Not really, but... Still, how did he know? He couldn't see the blood on her, couldn't- Smell, maybe. Her moment of hesitation had him smiling, derisive, as though she were a pansy. Daphne's lip curled. She could play. She was well-versed in this game of pain, this delicate balance between harm and death. How dare-? He was carving, little wells of blood distracted her. Pretty. Pretty and perfect and precise. P words. Pleasant and pliable skin. Like phlebotomy, almost. Pulling blood up out of the skin. Out of the little birdie, whose eyes begged her for help. Help help help. A cheshire grin played on her lips before she floated over the tent for a better angle.

It was over then, blade disappearing. Daphne's huff of disappointment was audible. She mewled, torn between happy and sad. Whyyy? But then, oh-so-good. Eyes fading, blood spilling, limbs relaxing in real peace. He was going to burn her! Ah! Nooo. Her hands flailed and twisted as she pouted. That was so final and over. And done! Well, it wasn't hers. She would never burn her pretty babies. They needed finding. Displaying. Photography! Click click click. Shutters opening and closing. Huge crowds to see her perfect work. Like her bride. Her gorgeous girl. Her broken dove. She'd cause quite a stir when she was found. So much fallout from that one. Pain in resounding echoes through everyone involved. It was wonderful. Too bad she couldn't see it. But she could see him. He was walking away. Disappearing from the area. Why?

She had to know, and so she followed him. Not like it was hard, or he was hiding. So she didn't either. She didn't even stealth it. Just caught up with him in a few strides, a sultry smile on her face. Curiosity got the better of her. People with a passion for the same craziness as her were rare. Rare like gems. Like flowers. Like knives.

'Hi Tall.' That was all she said, quietly. That was apparently her new nickname for him. As she didn't know his real name. But what was a name, anyways? An address. A title. A- what was he doing? She watched him for another moment, intrigued. He was prettier up close. Pretty pretty. Like a gem or a flower or a blade. Ha. The smell of burning birdie hit her, and she turned around to look. Oooh. That was worth seeing. Skin crackled and curled, fire danced and fluttered. Clothes burned first, the fibers melting away before turning to ash. She sat down right then, a captive audience. Dirt was probably coating her butt now. Ah well. It would nicely join the blood spatters. The spatters looked like... Rorschach tests, a psychological ice breaker. Blood was a common bond. Blood was burning. Something to be said for burning your babies, after all.

[NOAH DALLAS TURNER]

• WHEN YOU FEEL MY HEAT, LOOK INTO MY EYES, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

There was a moment of confusion within Noah. He could sense the girl, her essence was very inviting, but her mind ... it was closed off and he didn't know what to feel about that. Not that he could literally feel frustrated, more so that it wasn't something he had encountered before, and he was curious. But first things first, he had a body to deal with, which he did with fire. There was just something about having the power not only to take away the light away from someone's eyes, but make it so that they had never existed at all. It makes Noah feel powerful, and power is something that he craves. Walking away he felt the presence of the girl, but did not turn back, however, when she fell into step with him, he moved his dark brown eyes to look a the figure, whose bright blond hair shone even in the dark, and he decided that he liked the unusual shade. However, the corner of his mouth quirked up a little as she spoke.

"Hi Tall."

That was such ... a ridiculous thing to say, he didn't know why anyone wasted their breath on such words. However, he could smell the faerie on her. She was a faerie, but he knew that she would also not be able to pick any emotion from him. Possibly a small bit of darkness, or a sliver of pleasure from the kill, but his emotions were non-existent and only echoes of those he's tasted on his tongue. They were sustenance, and he preferred the slightly bitter taste of such emotions as anger or sheer dark souls. And he could sense that the girl was that kind of person, that she is as blood thirsty as he is, since she was so fascinated with the way he had carved the pretty, pretty skin of the angel. He loved his work, it was like a work of art and he was Da Vinci, the knives carving different coloured and shaped canvasses, the blood and dirt putting his mark on it. It was a beautiful thing, really. He liked to think of it as doing the world a favour, but that would be a lie since he rarely allows for his creations to escape the sharp licks of fire.

"If that's how everyone started conversations, then there is a lot of breath going wasted." He spoke, his voice low, a wicked glint in his eyes as he turned around with her, his eyes settling back onto the fire which he had caused. That caused his lips to move into a cold smile. Whenever Noah was not himself, pretending to be someone because he simply got bored, the only way you'd be able to tell would be his cold eyes. His smile never reached his eyes, not really, but he was so good at masking that. He was an observer, he knew what people expected to see, and an insight into minds helped. Auras too. The static beside him threw him off just the tiniest bit, and as she sat down ... well, Noah had never taken the time to sit and watch. Like a silent movie before his eyes, the flames licking the skin, the charred pieces of the clothes falling to the floor, the hair disintegrating before his eyes. He licked his lips. This was better than anything other anyone could offer him. He was a psychopath, and psychopaths got bored. And this kept him active, because just being was easy ... he was able to feel no remorse for beautiful actions.

The male moved to sit by the girl, stretching his long legs in front of him, he noticed that her face was ... striking almost. Her features almost elvish, and he liked that about her. This stranger. He raised a thin hand and ran it through his hair, the last thought on his mind that dirt would get on his cream coloured trousers, in that moment. "What do you think? When you see something like this?" Noah actually ... felt like asking this. The barrier to her mind provided food for thought, and speaking would allow him to find out what she was hiding in her mind, what was blocking him to getting to her thoughts. "Clearly you're a fan of this kind of work ... would I be right to assume you have similar exhibits yourself?" He chuckled, because he could imagine this pretty little dove, a knife in her hand, or maybe using her strength to shatter bones, and no one would suspect a thing. He was aware that he hadn't asked for her name, it wasn't important yet, while the body burned before them, they were unimportant, only death was.

• DON'T GET TOO CLOSE, IT'S DARK INSIDE, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

[/style][style=font-family:arial narrow;font-size:8px;text-align:center;letter-spacing:3px;text-transform:uppercase;]tagged daphne! | words 792 | outfit[X] |notes shorter this time! thank goodness!

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[DAPHNE SASHA ASTOR]

She threw him. Hee. Threw him off. Off such a serious train of thought, making him roll to keep upright. But upright was so boring. Why stay that way? It was good to roll sometimes, and change things up. Mhmm. It hadn’t been her intention, but Daphne tended to do that. Throw people. Figuratively and literally. Last person she’d thrown had gone through a window. So much shattered glass! Sparkling like dewdrops or diamonds in the sun. And the sun had pressed against her skin like the glass had pressed against her prey. Before Daph picked it up and used it for slicing. Carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Thanksgiving, what a silly holiday. Making people hang out with their families to celebrate… What, exactly? Who knew. Who cared. Not Daphne. And she’d bet that Tall wouldn’t either. Tall, who was… making fun of her? Patronizing, maybe. Patron saint of assholes, this one. Gutsy though, to talk to her that way. He didn’t know. Didn’t know she could probably kill him. Didn’t care, more like. He had so little in the way of real emotions coming off of him. Her lips scrunched a bit while her eyes narrowed.

’I don’t have a breath limit. I can waste all I want to. ‘Sides, not everybody does. Just me. Me myself. I. I- Wow.’ She’d seen the flames. The flicker of orange fire. How lovely! And suddenly Tall wasn’t quite so interesting. Mildly, but like a dim ache, than a present pain. Daphne didn’t actually mind pain so much. She wasn’t a fan, really, but she didn’t mind. Her mind was all over the place. When she was in pain, she-that-was-they focused up. Up up up, like the smoke was going. Pretty pretty tendrils that would garner attention eventually. People, the sheep-people, tended to notice fire and smoke fairly quick. That prey instinct to avoid danger hard at work. Too bad it didn’t work on her. Too bad for them, too good for her. Her façade just made people want to talk to her, to make friends with her, for some inexplicable reason. She was quirky-looking and hot. Hot like the flames. Like a lava. Ha. But that wasn’t why she’d picked this face. Nope nope nope. Face the music, turn and face the wind. Burning had finally reached the face. Melt and smolder and crackle down the bone. Flames roared higher, consuming and hungry. Hungry. Was she hungry? A bit, actually yes. For food. Real nutrition. Body food. Not emotions. Huh. What to- Hey, he was sitting. And next to her. It wasn’t that Daphne didn’t pay attention- she was hyper aware of everything at all times- but unless it was an imminent threat or imminently entertaining, she just didn’t acknowledge. And maybe he could be entertaining. Maybe? He was talking at her again, surprise. Surprise! Like at a party. Asking her what she thought. Well, that depended upon who you asked… Hee. Right now? The question sparked more ‘p’ words.

’Pretty. Poetic. Poignant. Powerful.’ She paused, looking at him. Tall was an interesting character. Such care to avoid the bloodies, but dirt was apparently a non-issue. Odd. A slim eyebrow arched in his direction as she made a little hand-gesture. ’Of course, I suppose that could apply to the fire too.’ She giggled brightly, like a chirpy pixie, before turning back to the real show. Why did fire have to move so fast? Daphne wished she could slow it down. Watch it eat the angel in slooooow motion. Needed some universal remote to control the universe. Or at least her pieces of it. Her multiple pieces of puzzles. Riddles waiting to be solved. ’I have eyes like a cat, a nose like a cat, whiskers and feet like a cat, but I’m not a cat.’ Another tiny giggle left her pretty pink lips. ’What am I?’She stood then, not even bothering to dust off her bottom. Why bother? The rest of her was already bespeckled with pretty spots and smudges. She danced then, making little cat prints in the dirt, thoroughly amused with herself. ’I’m not a cat, I’m not a cat,’ she sang softly, light and childish. He still hadn’t answered her little riddle. Maybe she’d thrown him again. From a plane this time? Hee. Whoosh! No parachute. No parachute to halt the fall. Maybe she’d help. The dancing paused, and she looked at him, cocking her head. ’I’m a kitten.’ Her hands went to her hips as she grinned, then watched the flames continue finishing off the rest of the angel-baby, and he asked her if she was a fan. Fan fan, blowing things away. Daph did that. Blew things far away, off their natural path, their real course. She changed things. Her head ducked, and she looked up at him, pretending bashfulness, and kicked the dirt with a little nod and a chuckle. ’Similar. Not same. Mine live forever, they don’t burn. Immortalized in files and photographs, echoing gorgeous pain. Fire has some merits I hadn’t expected though. But still, I won’t burn my babies. They’re too precious. Like my bridal baby. Forever a ‘Miss,’ never a ‘Mrs..’’ She giggled again, ‘cause he had no idea her most recent creation was so close. Then again, blood was kind of telling… She waved lightly at her clothes, with a smile. ’She gave me these, lovely thing.’ Her head cocked gently, as she looked at his clothes again. ’You didn’t accept any presents from the angel-bird though. How sad.’

[NOAH DALLAS TURNER]

• WHEN YOU FEEL MY HEAT, LOOK INTO MY EYES, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

Talking. Talking was something that Noah didn't like to bother with, but seeing the words slip out of the mouths of those around him made him seem superior to himself. He could get all he needed from the minds of those that thought about everything, getting deep within their consciousness was something that no one ever wanted for them to happen, but for Noah it was the deep dark secrets that made them taste better. The emotions seeping off the the moment he triggered a memory. Sadness. Loss. Anger. He enjoying watching people deteriorate into nothing, crumble at the things that they wanted to forget. Sometimes they turned bad, and Noah took pride in those creations. Turning them bad was something worth watching, they would have potential. To be useful, to pain the town red in blood and black and blue, leaving bruises wherever they went. But the blonde girl was talking, her words making little to no sense, but at the same time all the sense in the world. "Oh Pretty, you are so naive." He spoke, a nickname of his own gracing her. Because naive was what she was, she was taking the breath from her little brides as she so said, but it seemed like she didn't realise that she could become a dead little miss herself. How sad.

The fire, it licked at the skin of the angel, turning soft white to black, to smoke, to nothing. That gave him power, and that was what Noah appreciated. The power to make someone into absolute nothing, nothing more than molecules in the air like they never existed. The smell of the charring flesh brought pleasure to his body, to hear the blood evaporating, it was truly an experience to behold. But it seemed like he was destined to know the thoughts of the girl beside him, the P's like gunshots, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Boom, boom, boom. Usually guns were not his choices of weapon. The deaths were too quick, he liked to see suffering, because what fun was it for a death to be over to quickly. None at all. But the words, and the giggle, although he was indifferent, he knew would annoy him if he was not. It was too loud, too merry. "Oh dear, you sure have a way with words." He quirked the corner of his mouth into a somewhat smile that lit up his sharp features, brown eyes illuminated by fire. "I would call it immensity." He spoke, his eyes drawn back to the flames. "Boom. No more baby. She never existed. That is immense power, Pretty." She spoke, his voice almost musical in its amused qualities that he himself was not feeling.

He heard her riddle, not paying much mind to it, not thinking that it needed much of an answer. Kitten. She's a kitten. That was certainly a thought, but it didn't mean that Noah was any less at easy about the static in her mind. Where did that thought come from, what triggered it, it made him heavy in his stomach not to know and what was a new sensation. Until he grew bored. He eyed her false bashfulness, as there were scents of emotion wafting off her body, and bashful was certainly not one of them. His eyes were on her as she kicked the dirt, and eyes her clothes. Pretty clothes from a pretty bride. "Where do you keep the little brides?" He asked, because what's the point in having something immortal forever if you'd just forget about it later on. "Or do you leave them as puzzles for the cops." His expression was cold, his experiences with the police not the best. Time in prison just gave him less distraction to work out the ultimate plan. The perfect plan, because killing without a plan was frowned upon. Always have a plan. And his plan caused all the policemen in his prison to die. That was a fond memory he looked back upon. The assassin's job was perfect for him.

He thought about souvenirs that a lot of serial killers kept, and cocked his head to the side, on his feet himself, a hand in his thick brown hair. "Those cold corpses mean nothing to me. After the kill, they don't exist. And souvenirs ... souvenirs are proof left that they did live." He reasoned, hearing the siren of a police car, no doubt heading for them, but there was no quick thud of his heart to signify that he was afraid. That he should run. Once they come, it'll be 'Oh my God, this lunatic just set her on fire, he ran that way.' Distressed. Liar liar. Point them in the wrong direction. They can never catch him. Noah was too good, too skilled, too insane. "Sometimes the fire eats them alive. The screams ... they are well worth the disintegrating body." He told her seriously, the conversation completely nothing out of the ordinary, every word she spoke allowed him further into her mind, to deduce what he may from the ramblings of someone who might not be sound of mind. Someone like him.

• DON'T GET TOO CLOSE, IT'S DARK INSIDE, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

[/style][style=font-family:arial narrow;font-size:8px;text-align:center;letter-spacing:3px;text-transform:uppercase;]tagged daphne! | words 862 | outfit[X] |notes shorter this time! thank goodness!

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[DAPHNE SASHA ASTOR]

Her rambling side was at the forefront, twisting sentences and words into unrecognizable knots that almost no one could interpret. Occasionally, that apparently included Tall, who looked somehow both baffled and mesmerized with every silly syllable that exited her mouth. Maybe it was the comment about her naivety that pulled a more… coherent facet of her consciousness to the surface, to where the reins sat. Still, the wiggly worded one got to weave her spell of curiosity for a while longer, twisting and turning the subjects into places that they never would’ve gone if not for the disjointed connections certain words made in her pretty ivory head. Tall though, seemed to appreciate it, even complimenting her with a small grin- though she could feel that the grin was just a gesture, not actually linked to a real emotion, which was quite strange- on her vocabulous choices. It made him prettier though, that odd little grin that didn’t reach his heart. Daphne noted it in an abstract way, like one notes the prettiness of a painting, or the way cleaning a room makes the whole space seem bigger and clearer.

His nickname for her- Pretty- was somehow flattering… The idea that her most blatant characteristic at that moment was not her spiraling and ridiculous words, nor the way blood covered her, nor the very quirkiness of her being, but her surface attractiveness was appealing. Except for the small fact that her surface was not what her other self looked like. She couldn’t force herself to think of this face as fake, or a façade, because it was as real and affected as her other skin was. They were both her, just as the different pieces of her personality were all the same person. Her very self was multifaceted and unique, but she was still one, whole person. Unlike the angel lying in front of them, burning. Still, despite the fact that she understood his mindset- the ability to completely destroy an existence- she didn’t agree with him. Power was inherent to Daphne, through blood and through practice and through nature. Her very being radiated power. It was just the way she was built. She didn’t need to destroy someone and play God to feel powerful, because she just knew that she was. The ivory fae knew she was powerful the same was she knew there was gravity: she felt it and used it every single day of her life. Tall though, wanted to play at omnipotence by destroying. What Daphne did… Daphne created. Daphne was an artist of supreme skill, not an exterminator. Maybe that was where she and he differed the most. Tall destroyed. Though what motivated such an action, she couldn’t yet decipher.

’They’re not always brides, you know. My subjects are a wide variety of creatures. But they all turn into lovely pieces of art, eventually. And I never keep them, or anything like that. I leave them for the world to appreciate. All my souvenirs are stored in my head, the way they made me… feel, I suppose, being enough.’ She cocked her head lightly, contemplating the other half of the question. The police… well, she didn’t know what she thought of them. They were more an interfering nuisance than anything else. They hadn’t caught her yet, and never would, as far as she was concerned, because they just weren’t up to her level. Thing was though, if she ever did get caught, it wouldn’t bother her, because she’d just get out. Prisons weren’t designed to hold someone of her caliber, even when she was weakened by metal. ’Detectives are usually the first people who get the privilege of viewing my babies, but eventually, they all get to be world-famous, renowned for my spectacular craftsmanship.’ She thought for another minute, considering her words… They made her seem like a glory-hound, when that wasn’t the case at all. Her art could be a thankless one and she would still love to do it. ’I don’t want that misconstrued though. I do my work for me, not because other people get to see it. So I like them to exist after I’m done with them. It makes me happy. The touch of confusion provided by the masses is quite entertaining though, I must admit.’ A smirk shaped her pretty mouth as she got up and wandered away from the ‘crime scene,’ from the angel who would never get the proper displaying. She was disintegrating so rapidly that she was no longer entertaining. Besides, this part of her preferred he live entertainment, the kind that screamed and cried and begged her, ‘please have mercy’ when she was in terribly short supply. A giggle escaped her mouth with the thought as her shoes crunched on the gravel and dirt that was the path around the circus, back to the general populace.

The ivory fae didn’t know if he followed her, but that was her assumption, since she caught his words about fire eating the live ones, and the screams that they provided. She could agree with that one, since she’d used fire herself. Few things made beings so uncomfortable and scared and pained as open flame… ’Points in your favor for that one. Fire’s an effective marking tool, when it’s not used for ‘cleaning up a mess.’’ Her sensitive ears caught the sound of a siren then, and made a light mental note of it, because hey, she was covered in blood… But in the Cirque de la Morte, no one would notice, presuming she was just another player in a sideshow.

[NOAH DALLAS TURNER]

• WHEN YOU FEEL MY HEAT, LOOK INTO MY EYES, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

There were a lot of things that drove people, and Noah knew that. He wasn’t quite sure what drove him. What the part of him that emerged so often was driven by. It couldn’t just be bloodlust. Maybe it was him feeling superior than the rest of the world, through lack of empathy and sympathy. He had been described as a ‘monster’ before, something that was supposed to be in fairytales, yet there he was, real enough to touch, the bogey man under every person’s bed. This power wasn’t a want, it was more that it was his by right and because of that fact he took. He took, and there was proof right in front of them of his work. Mind you, not his best, he has made much prettier pieces than this before, but it was still of a standard that many could not even dream about. Noah had almost forgotten his companion, the silver haired woman who he couldn’t sense the thoughts of. Noah simply blinked at the mention of ‘feeling’. He looked down at his own chest, almost as if willing himself to remember the last time he actually felt anything, and he honestly couldn’t. There was a cloud of ice over his mind, actions he’d committed without remorse.

“Feel.” The word tasted foreign on his tongue, and he looked up at the girl that he couldn’t catch the name of because he couldn’t read her thoughts and he didn’t care. “I am the flames.” He speaks slowly, clearly, eyes drawn back to the body that was almost ashes by now; how magical the process was, turning flesh into ashes, the stink of the burn much more pleasant than almost anything Noah had smelled. “So many ways to die within a fire, you know that? Burning, suffocating. Lungs collapsing from the fumes. Get stuck under something big, and they come. You see them coming, you’re afraid, and they come and you can’t escape them. I am like that.” There was no feeling involved there, there was only the fear driven into his victims when they know they can’t escape, and the hot fluid on his hands that Noah would bathe in. Beautiful. The whole process of death was so beautiful, and Noah didn’t want to give that to the world. They could see the after math, but the beauty was his.

His mouth quirked into a grimace that resembled a smile when she spoke of detectives. A lot of them didn’t even get to see Noah’s work, just the dust that was scattered in the air. A missing person for life, more misery for the families. Oh my sweet boy, I hope nothing’s happened to you. But mamma’s sweet boy was already part of something new, a new leaf or a tree, or the food for a bug. Noah was not only providing a death but he was also giving life. That knowledge was pleasing. “The masses get scared of anything they don’t understand because they are driven by emotion.” Noah’s voice is low, contemplatative. He was almost suggesting that by feeling ‘happy’ she was a part o them, part of the people who were so foolish as to even think about ‘how sad, he was so young, he had so much potential’. How stupid mortals were, sometimes Noah didn’t understand, and truth be told he didn’t want to. It has been a long time since he had considered himself to be anywhere near these people. He was better, so so much better, if only they could see that.

“They cry about a life lost, but they don’t realise that this is what they do to little bugs on the street. After all, every person on earth is a bug.” Noah was a bug too, but in any animal kingdom, there was the survival of the fittest, and the hybrid thought himself the fittest of them all. He heard the giggle. He heard her leave, and he stood to follow. He wanted an explanation as to why he couldn’t hear her. After he got that figured out, she would hold no interest to him, but for now, his curiosity was piqued and that was just so hard to do. “I don’t use fire to clean up a mess.” He was not defensive, just factual to his actions. “I use fire to give other life. My creations become dust, and that dust becomes a part of everything.” He didn’t owe her an explanation, but if anyone was to understand, it would be the pretty little blonde thing. There was no blood on Noah, yet there was on her. Such different ways to go about the same end. He tilted his head a little, dark brown eyes searching. “Why can’t I hear you?” He figured he wouldn’t need to explain what he meant, and if he did, she wasn’t worth his breath.

• DON'T GET TOO CLOSE, IT'S DARK INSIDE, IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE •

[/style][style=font-family:arial narrow;font-size:8px;text-align:center;letter-spacing:3px;text-transform:uppercase;]tagged daphne! | words 814 | outfit[X] |notes ohshit i literally took forever on this i'm so sorry bb

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