Post by Ange de la Mort on Oct 1, 2011 10:06:41 GMT -5
I was growing fat on this war. The nobility likely never noticed, but the effect such unrest had on the common people was devastating. Goods and services were at a premium and the poor got poorer.
For me, this meant an influx of 'working girls' treading the streets, staying up later than usual, desperate for business. Hunting was so good that I was almost getting bored with it.
Not wishing to call attention to myself, however, I made do with only one per week and the lowest girls I could find - the ones that no one would miss. I'd also gotten better at hiding the bodies, though my warehouse was a bloody mess because of it.
This girl, for instance, I'd watched for several days now. She rented a flat in the worst part of Night's Doorstep and paid for it with her body, as scrawny as it was. She walked the streets all night, only going to home exhausted and sometimes empty-handed at dawn. If I had feelings, I would have felt sorry for her.
Now she was just another dead body, lying on the warehouse floor in several pieces, waiting to be packed up and weighted down and drowned with the others, in the deepest part of the river.
I was taking a break, sitting down with my back against the cold wall, smoking to calm my nerves. This sort of thing didn't usually upset me, but she said her name was Ellie. I didn't like what it reminded me of. Probably best for this Ellie, as I had killed her much faster than originally intended.
Oh well.
Later that night, as I bathed to get the last vestiges of blood out from under my fingernails (and other places you might not expect), I reflected on all of the things that had brought me to this point, and wondered, as I always did, how long this could last.
For me, this meant an influx of 'working girls' treading the streets, staying up later than usual, desperate for business. Hunting was so good that I was almost getting bored with it.
Not wishing to call attention to myself, however, I made do with only one per week and the lowest girls I could find - the ones that no one would miss. I'd also gotten better at hiding the bodies, though my warehouse was a bloody mess because of it.
This girl, for instance, I'd watched for several days now. She rented a flat in the worst part of Night's Doorstep and paid for it with her body, as scrawny as it was. She walked the streets all night, only going to home exhausted and sometimes empty-handed at dawn. If I had feelings, I would have felt sorry for her.
Now she was just another dead body, lying on the warehouse floor in several pieces, waiting to be packed up and weighted down and drowned with the others, in the deepest part of the river.
I was taking a break, sitting down with my back against the cold wall, smoking to calm my nerves. This sort of thing didn't usually upset me, but she said her name was Ellie. I didn't like what it reminded me of. Probably best for this Ellie, as I had killed her much faster than originally intended.
Oh well.
Later that night, as I bathed to get the last vestiges of blood out from under my fingernails (and other places you might not expect), I reflected on all of the things that had brought me to this point, and wondered, as I always did, how long this could last.