The Killer's Love

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by EquinoxSol, Jul 14, 2013.

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  1. Kale clung to the shadows cast off by the enormous tree, his dark hair falling in his face. Pale grey eyes pierced the darkness while his ears strained to hear the sound of footsteps. Peering around the tree, he couldn't help but let a grin come to his face when he saw her. She came this way every night, walking home from the public library, where she worked. She always stayed late, even though the library closed at seven each night. The woman was all legs, long, pale ones that disappeared underneath her short shorts, leading up to small breasts and a pretty face.

    As she walked past his hiding place, he slowly crept out onto the small path that lead through the park, trailing her from a distance. By the time she reached the middle of the park, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her, pressing the blade of a knife to the soft skin at her neck. "Don't move," he muttered, one of his hands upon her mouth to keep her from screaming and waiting until her struggles died down.

    In truth, he was rather amazed that she had come this way at all. Ever since he had started in the park, the news had been telling people not to go into the park at night, to be cautious, that sort of thing. It had certainly made everything both easier and harder. There weren't as many people there at night, but that also meant that after she was gone, there wouldn't be too many more people there. Besides, he was almost certain that the police watched the park all day, and at least a few hours during the night. However, before he had gone into the park he had made sure that no police were there. Besides that, from this area in the park, you had to be standing right there to see what was happening.

    Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved the knife just past her breasts, nudging the place beneath it, feeling where her ribs were. Easing the knife into that one spot, the blade slide in like butter, and soon blood was spilling over into his gloved hands. As the smell filled his nose, he breathed a sigh, feeling halfway normal again. As her body fell limp in his arms, he took a firmer grip on her, dragging her body over beneath the tree he had been hiding in. Setting a dark blue rose from his back pocket over the spot where his knife had cut her, he nodded once before turning from her, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
     
  2. Ira Flores couldn't believe his eyes as they settled on the blue rose against the dead woman's pale skin. He knew she was dead, there was no way she could survive with that deep of a stab on her chest. Besides she was no longer breathing. His breathing hastened as he noticed the killer watching him and he knew he was in hot soup.

    "L-look buddy, I see nothing alright." He beginned to stammered, knowing that he wouldn't let him live when he'd witness his crime. The male's stonic cold eyes glared at him and it sent shivers down his spine. "I swear I won't tell a soul about it." He added as he watches helplessly as the male approaches him.

    (Sorry it's short, I'm going to bed soon.)
     
  3. ((It's fine.))

    Kale had been about to walk away when he heard the footsteps behind him. Shit, he thought, turning to see someone looking at the woman's body. When they saw him watching, and began to stammer, Kale was already striding towards him, his knife out once more. He hadn't been planning for this, but his instincts were telling him exactly what to do. Grabbing the man, in the exact same hold as he had used on the woman, he pressed his hand on both his mouth and nose, cutting off his supply of air until he was unconscious in his arms.

    Dragging him over to a spot underneath the light cast off by a lightpost at the side of the road, he was immediately taken aback. "Oh, God," he muttered, looking down at his face. "...Ira..." No matter how much he needed to, he couldn't kill him. Besides, he reasoned with himself, it was probably too dark for Ira to see any of his facial features. Running a hand through his hair, disheveling it, he frowned down at the male, debilitating over what he should do. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he bent down, taking Ira into his arms. When he straightened, he was cradling Ira against his chest, easily bearing his weight.

    "Let's get you home," he whispered softly, gazing solemnly down at him.
     
  4. Ira was taken aback at how fast the stranger moved. Before he could yell for help , darkness enveloped him as he laid spawned on the dirtied floor. His breathing was steadied but his face remained paled from the ordeal.

    It seems like the killer knew him but he couldn't recognize him so just what's going on?
     
  5. When Kale had secured Ira in his arms, he began walking back towards the place where he had last remembered him staying. But...that was several years ago, and he could have moved by now. Sighing softly, he considered just leaving him on a park bench, but the police would probably pick him up that way, and there was no telling what Ira would say in the presence of police officers.

    Taking Ira to where he thought he lived, he made easy work of the lock, used to dealing with better security systems than just a deadbolt. Walking into the dark home, he checked that the photographs and mementos were Ira's and not someone else's. He also made sure to check each of the rooms, in case Ira lived with someone else. Eventually, he moved Ira to the bedroom, setting him down on the bed gently.

    Reaching over, he gently brushed Ira's hair out of his face, before placing the barest ghost of a kiss on the man's lips, a deep, sorrowful melancholy in his stormy eyes. With that, he left, wanting to get at least a few hours of sleep before daylight broke. Returning to his own home, an apartment several miles away from Ira's, he fell down onto his couch, asleep in minutes. He woke at dawn, checking the news for the reports on the woman he had killed the night before. Of course, they were all over it, spouting headlines like, "Blue Rose Killer strikes again," and, "Could you be at Risk? Serial Killer Prowls the Streets."

    Somehow, he found himself near Ira's home. He couldn't help himself. He hadn't seen him in almost five years, and now that he had seen him again, he couldn't stay away. What was he doing now? Had he recognized him from last night? Telling himself that he was only there to make sure he didn't talk, he hung back in the alleyway next to the home, leaning against the wall sullenly.
     
  6. Ira woke up the next morning with cold sweats rolling down his forehead. He was relieved to find himself on his own bed, perhaps it was nothing but a nightmare. He sighed as he pulled himself out of the bed and switched on the television absentmindedly. His eyes widened when he listened to the news of the blue-rose killer who’d just claimed his seventh victim. He seems to remember something about blue roses last night, come to think of it, he remembered walking down the park and everything else was a blur.


    Shaking his head in bemusement, Ira started the coffee machine as he made his way to refresh himself. His breakfast consisted of something simple since he’s lazy to cook anything complicated. He looked out of the window by chance and noticed the most attractive man looking up at him and he blinked in surprise. His eyes were one of a unique coloration though he couldn’t make out the exact colours from his position.
     
  7. Kale was startled when he saw Ira glance out the window at him. Still, something filled his chest when his eyes met Ira's. Gazing up at him sadly, he left the alley, soon walking to the door to Ira's home. Every instinct in his body was telling him not to do that, that Ira would recognize him from last night, and there was no telling what he would do after that. Shaking, he raised his hand, balling it into a fist and rapping it against the door. Pulling his jacket closer around him, he sighed before waiting for Ira to come to the door.

    Idiot, idiot, idiot, he kept saying in his mind, figuring that the police would be on him in an instant if Ira saw him. Frowning slightly, he shoved his hands into his pockets, jingling the loose change there.
     
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