Current Time: 06:42 am EDT

Between things that can and can't be said


Downloadable Entire Thread (For Excel, use Save As...) 1
  Creator Post Date

Jack Horton

The body lay splayed, open like a dissected mouse atop a school desk in science class. But this desk was grassy and damp, dotted with blossom petals and blood splatters. Limbs stretched outward, the Vitruvian Man in real life, with entrails neatly arranged in order across the ground. Despite the mess across the grass, the majority of the man’s blood had been consumed, pulled from his veins by sharp teeth and an insatiable appetite.

Jack sat a ten feet or so to one side, leaning against a tree trunk within a small copse adjacent to a larger woodland and trail. It was late, nearing three in the morning, and the bright moon highlighted the ground about him in spotlights through the leaves and branches. For years, Jack had lost his night sight but slowly it had come back to him, and now, with Tatsuo in permanent residence, he could clearly see the word around him as if it were day.

He was barefoot, as he tended to be when hunting, with jeans that hugged his calves and thighs, and a dark t-shirt that disguised the blood across his chest. But nothing could hide the crimson stain across his hands and forearms, nor the trails of blood down his chin and neck. When he fed like this, he never held back. These were the nights that he gave up to Tatsuo, to the monster that had once completely inhabited his body, and who now took up an equal residency with a far more controlled respect. A little in the distance, a dog lay broken, it’s body crumpled at the base of the tree Jack had thrown it against. He had no time for animals. In Japan, Tatsuo sometimes had no choice but to feed from wildlife. During the colder months, he and his brothers had little option - less tourists in the area, less mortals wandering too far. But now he was civilised, he vowed never to stoop so low again, and had instead simply killed the creature to shut it up, as its owner lay begging for its life above his own.

Pressing his palms to the ground at his sides, Jack pushed himself up to stand, taking the few steps necessary to bring him next to the body. His toes almost touching the mans hip, he looked down at him before crouching, balancing with ease on the balls of his feet. The man’s chest cavity was empty, ribs broken and shifted to tear skin, allow Jack to pull out each organ in turn, placing one after the other on the damp grass. This act was Jack’s doing, not Tatsuo’s. Jack’s need to try and understand. With each body he tore apart, he searched for answers that never came. On the Slayer Guild's operating table, Jack had watched his own chest be broken open, his own entrails be studied. And what he’d seen beneath the blood and his own screams was what he saw now. Lungs and kidneys and a heart and more. What existed in his own body matched that of the man on the ground, so what made him so f*cking different? What allowed Jack to walk in the sun yet revel in the dark? What gave him his immortality when he was a mirror of every mortal he'd slain?

Reaching, Jack pressed his palm inside the body, flat to the spine beneath where the heart had once resided and, closing his eyes, he focused on his own steady beating - the thump in his chest, the gift from years of torture at the hands of Tanvir Buckley. Cold and sticky, the flesh and bone beneath his touch gave no answer. It never did. And finally he stood, pushing bloodied fingers back through his bloodied hair with a disappointed groan.
June 01, 2018 06:29 pm

Cirilla Renarde

There were many things about Cirilla that remained... Innocuous. Pure was too simple of a word, and innocent didn't quite grasp all that she had the potential to be. It had been mere months since she'd nearly fallen prey to a creature that shouldn't exist. Even less time had passed since she'd joined Ella in New Orleans, completely unaware that she'd come to live right under the nose of an entire coven. There are so many questions that have yet to be posed, and if they had been, there's no guarantee the young girl would even have the answers.

Never mind that she had yet to comprehend the existence of the supernatural outside of blood sucking night stalkers. Even now she didn't know how she felt about it. Were they plentiful? Were they dangerous outside of the whole, drinking blood thing? Do they explode in the sun and sizzle when peppered with holy water?

The books didn't help and the pressure was enough to make her head spin.

The manor on the outskirts of the city often felt depleted of fresh air. The atmosphere was stiff, and the lights that burned above her hot. Even with air conditioning in her room, she could find no solace from the way the chamber felt so thick that she could barely move. On most nights she would wander to the kitchen. Though she'd be hard pressed to find any company, the cool slab of flooring felt good against her bare feet- with air from the ducts to the basement circulating up through the vents. This provided a nice bit of relief for the few moments before she realized that the season was still young, and the hot weather had barely even began.

On this particular night, she'd allow the subtle grumble of a groan to breach her lips before she stalked her way to the freezer and threw it open, grabbing a red popsicle from it's box and tearing it open in an instant.

The entire house was silent, but this was nothing out of the ordinary. When she'd first moved in, she found it to be eerie and uncomfortable. Of course, as time had passed, she got used to it. The small cricks in the floorboards when no one had walked across them and the soft sighs of it's old bones had, in a way, made her feel less alone. Like the estate were there to keep her company while she hemmed and hawed over volumes of text that provided her with absolutely zero insight.

This evening, she'd been invited to a local bar by a local boy. She blushed when he'd slipped his number into the pages of the book he'd sold her, and gnawed furiously on her lip when she'd gathered up the gall to text him two days later. At 18, Ciri wasn't technically allowed to drink inside of any bar in the state of Louisiana. However, most of the local dives didn't card her simply for her entrance, and Cirilla held an avid respect for rules and regulations.

Without them she assumed that the world would descend into chaos, and she wanted absolutely no part in that.

The boy, Dominick, had offered to pick her up. Ciri obliged, of course. Thrilled at the idea of a cute boy taking her out. It was only the second time she'd been on a date, and while the first wasn't necessarily a disaster... It wasn't anything remarkable as far as first dates went.

She was all ready to go, save for the red popsicle that she now worked on in the middle of the kitchen, waiting anxiously for the doorbell to sound across the hollows of the house. And when it did, and she calmly (and by calmly I mean she screeched a little and jogged to the foyer to find her shoes) made her way to the door, there was nothing but confusion etched into her expression when Dominick immediately started laughing.

"What..." Her dark brows knitted over a now worried stare.

'Oh, nothing.' He remarked, his finger finding the very corner of her mouth before long. Dominick poked her gently, still grinning with delight. 'I like popsicles, too. Especially when it's this hot outside.'

Crimson spread across both of her cheeks as she darted out the door, closing it up behind her with a nervous laugh. "What can I say. They're kind of addicting."

'That they are.' He agreed, stepping off the porch only once Ciri had done so. 'The bar isn't too far from here. I thought maybe we could walk? It's starting to cool off, and it's really a nice night.'

In that moment, Ciri couldn't decide one way or another whether or not she had any feelings at all about the suggestion. She looked into his bright blue eyes, and immediately agreed, a soft smile on her lips. There's a good chance that if he suggested they walk all the way to Los Angeles she wouldn't have declined. Her eagerness was almost impossible to conceal, but then, she certainly hadn't tried to. These weren't the types of games that Ciri generally played, and so it was safe to say that her experience in the matter was minimal.

Dominick smiled at her and took the lead as they walked, remaining only half a step ahead of her as they walked along on the sidewalk, facing the road as any gentleman would do. The two of them walked along casually for a few minutes, the conversation switching only twice as they talked first about the book that Ciri had purchased (something about vampires in Siberia) and then about Slavic folklore in a broader sense of the topic. They shared a few laughs, and some healthy debate, but soon they were cutting through a small patch of wood that separated them from a back bayou pour house.

Looking back, there were many things about this night that should have sent red flags flying, but this was the first thing about the evening that she should have questioned everything about.

'It's fine.' Dominick would insist, 'I've walked through here a million times.' There was a way about his surety that made Ciri felt safe, even though she ought to have known better.

"Yeah, okay. No problem." She nodded.

And that's when the night really began.
June 01, 2018 07:41 pm

Jack Horton

Hair had stuck in places to his fingers and Jack took the time to pick strands from the blood across his skin. One and a time, he let them fall to the ground, ignoring how they gathered upon the leg of the corpse. Evidence. But Jack had no concern for such trivial matters. With enough money and nods in the right directions, every speck of Jacques Horton had been removed from databases across the globe. And while his face still remained familiar to members of certain circles, they were the same members who had their own dark secrets, and never a word would be said.

Hair-free, he moved, stepping over the body, narrowly missing contact with a lung as he began to make his way from the small clearing toward the trail. The moon still shone bright, the cloudless sky glowing above him as on and off, the canopy cleared to allow light down to the ground beneath his feet. Spots of moonshine dappled the floor and as he walked in and out of the beams, the blood upon his skin and shirt glistened. He was oddly beautiful in this state, as if he’d just emerged from water, hair slicked back with clothing sticking to thick muscle and skin.

Though he’d drained the man dry, he didn’t feel satisfied. Partly the disappointment of no new answers, mainly the time he’d left it since his previous feed. Jack could go for weeks, sometimes months, without blood. But Tatsuo was less patient, and when Jack’s emotional state was weak, as it had been of late, that darker side gained control.

Jack stopped as the ground beneath his changed. Turf turning to dirt and stone against his bare feet. Left and right, the trail led off into narrow walkways thick with trees. He was unfamiliar with the location, New Orleans mainly playing host to his younger years of over drinking and jazz, or the past he’d all but forced himself to forget when he’d found reprieve from Tatsuo after Japan. And while there was noise bellowing from either direction, he couldn’t decide which path to take. Tatsuo’s attention flickered left and right while Jack rubbed at drying blood around his eyes. ‘I’m hungry’ the voice in his head growled. ‘I know’ came a response as the raised hairs on the back of his neck hushed them both into paying attention. For in the near distance, lost beneath the hum of live music across the city, two bodies approached. And Jack, a smile forming across his lips, took two slow steps back into the shadows of the trees.
June 01, 2018 08:01 pm

Cirilla Renarde

At first, it was hard to ignore how silent the air around them seemed to grow as they stepped further away from the cobble roads and into the dark passages of forest. The threes were thick with foliage- enough so that it provided an immense cushion for the sounds that threatened them from the side of the bayou that chanted at them incessantly. If she listened real hard, she could still pick up the faint humming of the crickets around the swamps; heavy frogs in competition (it seemed) over who could croak the loudest. Eventually she found the near silence to be soothing. Especially when Dom had started to instigate the conversation once more.

'So, what brings you to New Orleans, anyway?' He'd asked her rather bluntly. The soft edge over his earlier words seemed to harden albeit subtly. Enough, though, so that Cirilla picked up on it right away.

"Oh! How did you?-"

'It was obvious, really. You've agreed to stroll right past the swamps faster than any city girl I've ever met. And I know you're not from the bayou. Not with tomes like the ones you're buying. ' The faint accent wrapped around his words was forced to the side by his gentle laughter, though it seemed to be more for his benefit than for hers.

Ciri crinkled a brow.

"You don't know." She protested, as Cirilla often did. How could he have her pegged so easily? They'd known each other for all of sixty minutes.

Dominick offered her a hearty shrug, his head craning on his shoulders as he turned to look at her. 'To be quite frank, darling, I'd have been able to smell it on you.'

The corners of his lips turned up into a devilish grin, sinister enough in nature that it almost made Ciri's stomach turn. A large part of her wanted to believe he was joking around with her, but simply put, she didn't. Coming to a full stop, the girl leaned backwards until she'd put a few steps between them- and Dominick didn't miss a beat in taking that space back into his possession immediately.

"Why're you being weird..." Ciri asked, almost as though she were expecting a normal answer to slip from his lips.

But Dominick didn't answer her. Instead, he lunged at her, a long arm reaching out to snatch at her tiny wrist. She shrieked, eyes blurred by a jaded vision and an overwhelming sense of panic that had washed over her immediately. Though he had a good six inches on her, his face was within striking distance and so that's just what she did and without hesitation. Fingers balled up tightly, Cirilla pulled back just slightly and released her fist into the direction of his left cheek.

It was apparent in his movement that he hadn't expected her to react so quickly. Dominick groaned, the sound mutating into a resounding snarl. Cirilla had managed to do nothing but piss him off, and as soon as she realized it, the girl spun on her heel and began to take off. Her lips parted, a hard gasp of air filling her lungs with every intention of turning it back out into the world in the form of a blood curdling scream. But Dominick's arms were around her waist in an instant, and the only noise that she'd managed to let slip was the pathetic shell of holler. One that wasn't likely to have alerted anyone to her distress.

'Shouldn't wander into strange cities asking so many questions,' He muttered to her, his hand covering her mouth while he dragged her further down the path. Ciri kicked and wriggled, fighting against him the best that she could, but he was bigger than she was, and could toss around more weight than she'd even had on her body. 'I'm sorry, love, but I've got to make you disappear.'
June 01, 2018 11:09 pm

Jack Horton

Two figures edged closer, and Jack watched patiently from the shadows. He wasn’t fully hidden and with enough attention in the right direction, the moonlit highlights upon his damp skin would give him away to the observant few.

But not these two. They were too lost in themselves, this young pair, and he was as still as a rock, his heart and breathing slowing to near nothingness.

Silently he watched, silently he waited. And less silently, the two made their way toward him, the male of the pair now dragging the girl. What had seemed like flirtatious chitchat from where he’d been stood had now taken on a new form. One-sided. Confused. Struggled.

Curious, Jack’s head tilted, dog-like, as he tried to understand the situation. Was this a simply mugging? A date gone wrong? Who was this boy who worked to overpower his companion?

Jack hadn’t planned for much action tonight. He’d was hungry, but his mind was in other places of late, and the thought of fighting hadn’t been on his agenda. The jogger, now in pieces within the trees, had been easy. And ideally he’d planned for easy again.

But Tatsuo never said no to the chase.

While Jack had a tight grip on reality, on humanity and understanding, the monster within him was an animal. And if Jack allowed, he wouldn’t stop until cities were empty, until mortals were in pieces across the floor and all that remained were vampire kind and the shadows they dwelled within.

‘I’m sorry, love…’ came the voice on the wind, and Jack stepped out of the shadows to block the path of the approaching pair. Whatever happened here, whether he took them out quickly or was forced to fight for the kill, he knew he couldn’t let whatever this was continue. He disliked injustice and that’s exactly what this was. And whether this boy aimed to take the girl by force, or kill her in the trees, Jack wouldn’t stand for it. Even if he then went on to kill her himself.

Hypocritical, sure, but he knew the death he’d offer her would be far swifter than that of a fumbling boy.

In two steps he was in their path, and in seconds, the attacker was bumping into him, blocked by Jack’s broad, blood-soaked chest and rock-like stance. He remained silent, staring, and waited.
June 02, 2018 09:48 am
Actives (3) Fresh Blood (2) View All The Fallen (1) Graveyard
Akkarin , Mallory Quarters, Marshmallow  Josiah Walker
Asteria Skellington 
Reginald McKnight 
Home | Profile | Forums | F.A.Q. | Donate | Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | Cookie Policy | Contact Us
Created by Arctic Moon Studios. All rights reserved. © Bloodletting 2006-2016

Official Sites for Bloodletting
Blogger | Twitter | FB Group | FB Fan Page