<font face="Georgia" size=1 color=darkred>LET ME RIP OUT YOUR HEART AND EAT IT</font> -- The Pasture

The young demon stained of blood and midnight continued to move off, his brawny carcass disappearing into the darkness as the shadows began to enrapture him like a thick cloak in which he would wear upon his body. He had been angry at the filly - had completely loathed her ever since she had - unfortunately - came into his life, stole the attention of his parents, flaunted in his face how much better she was than he; he had wasted all of this petty anger on her. Ah, but he would no longer. For now he saw how completely and utterly pathetic such a thing was. The girl was positively starved for attention - anyone could see it. Why else would she go to such lengths to throw it in his face, to absolutely insist on forcing him to believe that she was better than him? Rather pathetic, really. But Nosferatu would endure her no longer - it was now clearer than ever: the girl was just a spoiled rotten little brat that had been orphaned by her parents when they had passed on; that day the attention that they had always given her had disappeared, and she began to seek it from others, such as him. He understood now, or at least, thought he did - if she wasn't the center of attention, then it just wouldn't do; everyone, and I mean everyone had to be considered lower than her, in her eyes. She was superior over all, and she did not hesitate to let others know it. Pssh... and they called him cocky! Quite sad, really.

He stalked further into the forest, chuckling bitterly to himself all the while, the devilishly handsome facade contorted into a twisted grin of complete and utter amusement. He had figured her out, and what's more, he had gotten away from her - it seemed that by turning his back on the little wench, she had finally given up, had let him carry on his merry-little-way. So then, where the hell was he? Had he gone too far? Suddenly, it was so dark - he couldn't even see his own nose in front of his face. The blood-red eyes shifted within two chambers of abyssmal nothingess, the savage skull turning this way and that from its regal perch upon his long and muscular neck, but everywhere he looked... blackness. 'Twas as if he had traveled into an abyssmal void of nothingness. Silence. Not even the slightest sound - even the crickets had stopped their chirping. He snorted, a bit uneasily, but he wouldn't show it. He wasn't one that was easily afraid, anyway, and he wasn't now. A bit... perplexed, you might say. Muscles became tense beneath scar-ridden hide of bloodied dirt, and his daggers gripped firmly at the forest floor. He snorted yet again, his auds falling backward and burying themselves beneath the thick web of ebony tapestry that made up his quickly-lengthening fore-tassel. But he was not afraid - merely on his gaurd, mind you. With the darkness granting him lack of vision, anything could ambush him when he least expected it... anything.

And so he stood there, stock-still, his nostrils expanded wide as he snorted yet again, his thick mane sent flying about his dashing features as he shook his dial sharply. He was beginning to get that feeling that you were being watched - that someone was near you, yet you couldn't see them nor hear them. And why shouldn't he? After all, there was probably a lot of things surrounding him at this very moment - all he could see was blackness. And then... a pair of glittering blue eyes, of snapping fangs, an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech - right in front of him, all at once, something clashing against his chest. He snorted sharply, jumping back ever-so-slightly as his blackened heart began hammering against his chest. And then... he recognized her, even with that ugly snarl painted on her devilishly attractive features, the hair risen along her spine like a rabid mutt... and suddenly, he hated her more than ever. 'Twas what he had always wanted to do - wear the horrific guise of a vampire; the fangs, the demonic screech - to rush toward your unsuspecting prey without them even being able to hint that you were ever there - the little bytch! She just wouldn't give up, would she? Nosferatu was getting quite annoyed. However, for once, he didn't show it. As Morse continued to snap at him fiercely, her blue orbs glittering in a demented sort of way, Nosferatu just stared at her in silence, the savage skull held haughtily aloft upon long and muscular neck, a brow cocked slightly as the devilishly handsome facade took on an emotionless mask. He gazed at her as if he was above her - after all, despite the no-doubt fierce guise she had taken on, at the same time she did look rather ridiculous; resorting to this ridiculously murderous behavior simply for his benefit. Pathetic. His face still one that was vacant of any expression, he rolled bloody optics heavenwards, coolly-spoken, deepening tenor chords rumbling forth.

"And you actually think you're going to scare me with that? Pathetic..."

And then, suddenly, the emotionless facade twisted into a smirk - twisted and mocking, and he laughed in her face. Not even caring that he still couldn't exactly see where he was going, he stepped right past her, his charred whip cracking against her face sharply as his muscled carcass roughly bumped against her own slightly smaller, feminine physique.

NOSFERATU
HELL-SPAWNED COLT
ARABIAN/FRIESIAN MUTT
STAINED OF BLOOD AND MIDNIGHT
ONE AND A HALF YEARS OLD
UNDETERMINED HEIGHT
REVEILLE X FLAMES O' HELL

Subject	Author	Date
[ dark mark ]	[ morsemordre ]	21:04:15 07/31/05 Sun
LET ME RIP OUT YOUR HEART AND EAT IT -- NOSFERATU, 22:00:37 07/31/05 Sun [ dark mark ] -- [ morsemordre ], 23:16:11 07/31/05 Sun LET ME RIP OUT YOUR HEART AND EAT IT -- NOSFERATU, 09:01:14 08/01/05 Mon [ dark mark ] -- [ morsemordre ], 21:31:29 08/01/05 Mon OOC -- Sam, 22:11:49 08/01/05 Mon