Re: Cruel Melody (Honour)
BOOM!...BOOM! Down slammed the backs of the chairs, the splat of broken and child infested bodies sounding as they hit the wooden floor. The screaming had ceased, but the sound of her demonic toddlers ripping, clawing, and gnawing at the skin of the men emanated sweetly from them. Soft, pleased coos escaped some of the children's wickedly carved mouths, their eyes coming to rest upon their "Mother" with inherent affection. Knives gazed back in silence, kneeling down to catch them as they ran to her. She ran her fingers through their sticky, crimson-blotted hair, whispering words of praise into their small ears. They all giggled at once, sounding off like so many imps as they came in closer, kissing her on the cheek and skipping back a few steps. They then turned, looking over the hopeless corpses with pride and satisfaction gleaming in their pale, glowing eyes.
Knives' body arched as she leaned back against a nearby wall, her chin raised at the bloody scenery about her. A small smirk turned up the sides of her pale lips, her eyes closing as she spoke softly to the children, "I'm not sure what to do with you, children."
As she spoke they all turned to look at her, tilting their heads to the side as if they were some sort of domesticated dogs, who were unable to understand the babbling of their master. As she opened her mouth to speak again, they took a few steps closer and hugged at her legs, unable to comprehend exactly what she meant. With a calm smile she grabbed them closer, cutting off their flow of oxygen for at least a minute. They began to struggle, but as they did she tightened her grip; multiple cracks sounded, and following, the soft sounds of their bodies sliding to the floor.
Her eyes flashed as she heard pounding on the door, which was down a hallway behind her. It seems whoever had wandered upon this place had gotten the door to budge open, and had closed it behind them. Before the door had closed, Knives had seen the slim silhouette of the person, coming to the conclusion that it was a male. 'Who would possibly have wandered away from the festivities back in the town? Perhaps it is a drunk.' She mused, taking a few silent, calculated steps backward into the darkest part of the room. There was no light, and he would be sure to notice the stench of death as soon as it registered in his mind. Yes. It was a human. Male. He was drenched in adrenaline and sweat, and in his aura she could sense that he was unstable. The thoughts were racing so fast through his mind that she did not even bother to peek into his primitive brain. Knives was surprised that this man could even function properly, and studied him closely through the darkness. He fell silent, his breathing more shallow than that of a dying mouse as his complexion became pallid. She could hardly contain herself, this sight was all too comical, and she had the perfect opportunity to made a mortal soil themselves, if not literally.
The posessed body of the woman jerked, a harsh exhale of breath escaping her mouth as she clenched her fists at the walls. Her claws dug deep into the splintering walls, and obsidian oozed out from beneath her fingernails as she squirmed. She withheld a scream of anger, fighting back with an all-too-familiar entity: The real Knives. A hissed chain of foreign words whispered their way passed her lips, her body tensing as her eyes flashed viciously in the darkness multiple times.
There was a dull flash of light further down the hallway, and he heard whispering. The muscles in Solomon's neck twitched as he pushed himself closer to the large door behind him, the demonic whisperings amplifying themselves inside of his head and causing the small hairs across his body to stand on edge. He began to repeat the whisperings over and over, the sharp accent and serpentine pronounciation of words rolling numbly over his tongue as his eyes began to dart around in the accumulation of thick darkness. His heart pounded inside of his chest, and the adrenaline began to race through his system.
After slamming her fists against the wall a few times, the demonic woman gave up on being silent, knowing that the man would discover her sooner or later. She let out a banshee-like scream, the voices behind the scream doubling: one monstrous, and one filled with passionate loathing. Her body slammed into the wall before her, and then flew backward in an attempt to subdue the current lesser soul with pain. Success was granted, and the screaming soul within was quieted once again, locked once more into the back of the vicious deity's mind. Knives heard the whisperings of the human, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She began to wonder if the unstable aura she had sensed meant that he was not just afraid, but on the brink of losing himself. In silence, she caught her breath, taking in deep inhales through her nose, and releasing them heavily through her mouth. After resting for a few moments the woman pushed off from the wall. Her pale-vanilla skin faded into darkness as she flitted, transporting with ease before the man, awating a shriek of some sort in reaction to her sudden appearance. The expression upon her face was calm, but held a stone-cold graveness which could send a chill deep into the bones, and even make the dead writhe six feet under ground.