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feredarStory: Need
Year: 1004 FY
Characters: Kit Artwick
Warnings: Creepy serial killer POV, description of murder with mutilation
Notes: This piece is a companion to Untouchable.
Eight years, eleven months, twenty-two days, nine hours, forty-one minutes.
"The talks'll be over soon," Kit said. He was here in Asendar to rework a trade treaty, stopped in a bookshop to catch his breath and reorient himself, and still all he could think about was hunting, feeling the rush of adrenaline and power and the blood pouring over his hands, hot and wet and pulsing; holding the slippery tongues, garnet-red in the darkness of whatever deserted warehouse he’d find for his work...
In a city this size he was sure to find a fiend. And it wouldn't take much to slip away from the Grand Duke's hospitality.
He pushed a book back into its place, a little impatiently. Not over soon enough. "Let's be off, then." Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past a young man who quickly dropped his eyes and back out into the street.
Eight years, eleven months, twenty-two days, nine hours, forty-two minutes.
Tonight couldn't come soon enough.
Year: 1004 FY
Characters: Kit Artwick
Warnings: Creepy serial killer POV, description of murder with mutilation
Notes: This piece is a companion to Untouchable.
Eight years, eleven months, twenty-two days, nine hours, forty-one minutes.
"The talks'll be over soon," Kit said. He was here in Asendar to rework a trade treaty, stopped in a bookshop to catch his breath and reorient himself, and still all he could think about was hunting, feeling the rush of adrenaline and power and the blood pouring over his hands, hot and wet and pulsing; holding the slippery tongues, garnet-red in the darkness of whatever deserted warehouse he’d find for his work...
In a city this size he was sure to find a fiend. And it wouldn't take much to slip away from the Grand Duke's hospitality.
He pushed a book back into its place, a little impatiently. Not over soon enough. "Let's be off, then." Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past a young man who quickly dropped his eyes and back out into the street.
Eight years, eleven months, twenty-two days, nine hours, forty-two minutes.
Tonight couldn't come soon enough.