Post by JYLI DIANE HAYES on May 6, 2013 17:57:03 GMT
The faerie tended to avoid the ‘Werehouses,’ as they were known around town. They just, well to be perfectly honest, they kinda gave her the creeps. She had no fear of the dark, or ramshackle, run-down buildings, or industry. Okay, yes, the metal could be an issue for her, sure, but even that wasn’t the real reason she kept away from the area. It was the sheer volume of terror that the place radiated. The anger and pain and sadness and fear hung like a tangible cloud around the place, sending off the creepy vibes. Too bad the same thing that made her stay away from it also tugged on the tether to her stomach whenever she was hungry. For fae food, not real food… Her brow quirked and she shook her head, somewhere between amused and annoyed with herself.
So here she was, in this place she avoided, because she was starving. The faerie wished she could feed on the leftovers in the air, instead of tracking somebody down specific to feed on. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in her- or any faerie’s- repertoire. It was just, a thing. Needed a target. A victim. Prey, so to speak. Except what she did didn’t hurt her victims or anything… Jyli sighed, continuing her walk to nowhere. Sometimes, it was really too bad that she liked to eat the less positive emotions. Needed to, really, or else she was hungry again in a few minutes. Her brother had always eaten the softer feelings, and that was part of why he was so much weaker than most fae. But he just couldn’t stand to make people angry or sad or scared. Poor baby. She missed them so much sometimes, her siblings. A sharp pang roared through her system then, reminding her why she was there, and making her gasp. She never waited this long between feedings, but she had been… distracted, as of late. Her boyfriend- and she giggled every time she called him that, remembering his face the first time she’d said it- who was also her boss had been distracting her on several fronts, making her forget herself. It wasn’t his fault though. If she’d said anything, he would’ve wanted to provide a meal for her. Possibly on wheels… Her giggle was light and sweet, in sharp contrast with her locale. It was then that her sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. Footsteps, but uneven, disjointed.
A limp, she realized shortly after. Fairly new, as his face contorted with something closely akin to anger more than pain with every step he took. His weight rested more securely on his left leg, making it evident that the right was the injured one. Her stomach took notice then, realizing what a decadent little ball of deliciousness he could be. Her feet, of their own accord, took her in his direction, invisible, and something near desperate. She floated around behind him, knocking the damaged limb out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground, face first. She spared that pretty mug contact with the concrete, but the impact knocked him out anyways, which was convenient for her, actually. Her glamour fell, as her fingertips made the light connection with the skin at the back of his neck, pulling the anger and pain from every corner of his body. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her breathing quickened. Wow. Sated, she sat her butt on the pavement next to him, slipping her skin back on and rolling him onto his back to wait. She couldn’t very well leave him there to face who-knew-what at the hands of who-knew-whom. When he began to stir, she perched over him, face hovering about a foot and a half above his own.
’Hi there fella. Take it easy, ‘kay?’
So here she was, in this place she avoided, because she was starving. The faerie wished she could feed on the leftovers in the air, instead of tracking somebody down specific to feed on. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in her- or any faerie’s- repertoire. It was just, a thing. Needed a target. A victim. Prey, so to speak. Except what she did didn’t hurt her victims or anything… Jyli sighed, continuing her walk to nowhere. Sometimes, it was really too bad that she liked to eat the less positive emotions. Needed to, really, or else she was hungry again in a few minutes. Her brother had always eaten the softer feelings, and that was part of why he was so much weaker than most fae. But he just couldn’t stand to make people angry or sad or scared. Poor baby. She missed them so much sometimes, her siblings. A sharp pang roared through her system then, reminding her why she was there, and making her gasp. She never waited this long between feedings, but she had been… distracted, as of late. Her boyfriend- and she giggled every time she called him that, remembering his face the first time she’d said it- who was also her boss had been distracting her on several fronts, making her forget herself. It wasn’t his fault though. If she’d said anything, he would’ve wanted to provide a meal for her. Possibly on wheels… Her giggle was light and sweet, in sharp contrast with her locale. It was then that her sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. Footsteps, but uneven, disjointed.
A limp, she realized shortly after. Fairly new, as his face contorted with something closely akin to anger more than pain with every step he took. His weight rested more securely on his left leg, making it evident that the right was the injured one. Her stomach took notice then, realizing what a decadent little ball of deliciousness he could be. Her feet, of their own accord, took her in his direction, invisible, and something near desperate. She floated around behind him, knocking the damaged limb out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground, face first. She spared that pretty mug contact with the concrete, but the impact knocked him out anyways, which was convenient for her, actually. Her glamour fell, as her fingertips made the light connection with the skin at the back of his neck, pulling the anger and pain from every corner of his body. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her breathing quickened. Wow. Sated, she sat her butt on the pavement next to him, slipping her skin back on and rolling him onto his back to wait. She couldn’t very well leave him there to face who-knew-what at the hands of who-knew-whom. When he began to stir, she perched over him, face hovering about a foot and a half above his own.
’Hi there fella. Take it easy, ‘kay?’
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clicketh for clothes!
clicketh for clothes!
