(no subject)

[excruciate]

WHO: Alucard and OPEN
WHERE: Anywhere in the City. You set the scene!
WHEN: 29 May, dusk/evening.
WARNINGS: Alucard.
SUMMARY: The Nosferatu goes out on a hunt.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatever.

The Nosferatu is hunting. He takes to the streets; to the air; to brightly-lit boulevards; to shadowed alleyways and dank sewers. The City is a maze, and he its Minotaur. Its mongrel tide of darkness. At times, he pauses briefly. Sniffs at the air. The citizens of the maze are a variegated bunch -- there is a division, certainly, between the empowered and those native to this world, and Alucard can all but feel the aftermath of this afternoon's riot still threading on the breeze.

The city is a maze. He haunts its corridors; its meandering streets; its high-rises and motley shanty towns like a ghost, always searching. Always moving. Always hunting.

Perhaps you've crossed his path.

Comments

[excruciate]

There's something -- off about the man. The chemicals tell Alucard that there may have been something off about him for quite some time, but the behavior: the swaying, the absentmindedness, the taste of his sweat all pointed toward something the Nosferatu had expected of Floyd all this time. It's only how his new form mimics Floyd by sitting back itself and tilting its head that Alucard shows his interest.

He's met the one-off addict in the past, but never one so...at tune with what ailed him. It made Floyd interesting, to say the least. And to not seem rude after discovering this -- because, really, Floyd had no idea what he was about to get into -- Alucard deigns it necessary to speak.

"Wash yourself before trying to pet a wild animal," he says, the words eking out of his open maw without the thing opening at all. "Your taste is abhorrent."

[backatthehotel]

If he could hear himself being described as 'off,' Pink would fall to pieces, laughing at the understatement. He knows he's quite mad, in more than a couple ways. Usually, he still manages to make it work for him.

When Alucard speaks, his expression brightens, eyes glittering. Aha, not ahh! A suspicion confirmed and a question answered, to some pleasure.

"Weren't expecting an audience, were I? Was I...? Was I." Verbs are a little tricky right now. "I'll be all nice and squeaky-clean next time, I promise."