Death Descends (Quarky-kun)

OoC: Hopefully I haven't procrastinated for so long that you've lost interest in this.

IC: The sun beat down relentlessly on the huddled mass of squat, square buildings. Simple and functional, the buildings were of the cookie-cutter type, each mirroring its neighbors. Their beige walls blended together in an illusion enhanced by the heat of the sun, almost hiding the small desert city from traveler’s eyes. But no illusion could fool the eyes of Death. Invisible to all, the blurred mass of darkness leapt across the walls and arches of the city, not even a whisper alluding to its passing. Booted feet zigzagged along the wooden beams extending from the walls of a narrow alley, unnoticed by the few turbaned heads strolling below, not sleeping away the midday hours as the rest of the city was. A powerful leap brought the dark form out of the alley and across the wide street to land on the edge of a tall building.

The establishment sported a pointed rotunda, only a few dozen other buildings in the city able to boast the same. A dark hand, covered by shining metal plates, reached out to grab the top of the spire, swinging the rest of the body around it to fly off in another direction. A direction that happened to be through the open window of a two-story house. The form landed noiselessly in the middle of the bedroom, its black cloak coming to rest around it as it stood erect. The deep hood topping the form turned towards the bed, noting the sleeping form within it. Striding purposefully, the cloaked figure brought its hand up, a black scythe clutched in its grasp. The scythe came up across the shadowy stranger’s chest, its other hand gripping it. Then, slowly, it raised the weapon above its head, a raspy breath escaping the dark hood.

“Your time has come, good man. I hope you enjoyed your life, for it ends . . . now!” The scythe came down with a swish, turning at the last possible second to sweep over the huddled form in the bed. The swing carried the wielder around 180-degrees, the blade of the scythe penetrating a silk tapestry on the wall and embedding itself in the rough stone. With a powerful tug, the blade dug through the wall and ripped the silk curtain in two, the severed half falling to the floor to reveal the man cowering behind it, the carved line in the wall just barely skimming the top of his head. The scythe-wielder rushed in close to the man, his free hand snapping around the man’s throat.

“Do not think that you can fool the eyes of Death so very easily, mortal!” The figure growled, his tall frame looming over the smaller man. “For one who has lead so heroic and cunning a life, your last attempts to prolong it have fallen disappointingly short. Goodbye.” Squealing in fear, the man slapped his attacker’s hand away and darted out of the room. Behind him, Death chuckled and began slowly after him, taking a shortcut through a wall as he became insubstantial and invisible. He loved it when they ran for it. It was always so entertaining.

Ooc: It's short, but if these thing's were long they'd never get done. Am I accurate on that fact?

Bic:

Ah the desert sun, what a lovingly tormenting thing. Killing the water and those thirsting for it, it was a beautiful metaphor for his current lust for a liquid of a different sort. He loved the heat, yet hated the sunlight. It was why he wore sunglasses, but it was also why his arms were bare to the skin, open to all the warmth it absorbed. He was reptilian in nature, though he never really thought about it before. Drinking in the heat, yet thirsty as ever, he walked through the desert town like the suffering vampire he was.

He’d feed soon, there was no doubt in that fact. He’d not had a drop of fluid for three days, though the moxie can at his belt remained full. It was high time to find someone who took midday naps, yes sir. High time that someone received a midday visit, yes ma’am.

This blistering scorcher-of-a-day reminded him oh-so-much of home.

***

The sun glared off his glasses, splitting the streets shadowed by the surrounding buildings. His walk, hunched and crazed, went unnoticed by the inhabitants of the oasis village. The heat tended to take numbers from one’s head, but it really didn’t make much of a difference in this man’s case. The village was unsuspecting of this man’s capabilities, of the lengths he’d go through to get what he wanted. The structure this town stood on would be shaken before the sun set.