ʜᴏɴᴇʏTʜɪᴇғ 💀



Last Updated: Sun 05 Jul 2020, 16:51:38

Post New Blog
Manage Blog
Email to a Friend

Gender:
Status:
Age: 27
Sign: Scorpio

Country: United States
Signup Date: June 20, 2020

Who Gives Kudos:


My Subscriptions

07/05/2020 

By and Down; Chapter One
Category: Uncategorized

Warren returned with a girl at the boss's request. A young woman with a sort of innocence to her, not yet completely jaded to her line of work. Pretty and young, maybe only about nineteen. A natural redhead, it was obvious for her features were speckled like a night sky with stars as freckles. Just the one, for Indrid Cold, and she seemed the boss's type, through and through.

He was already slumped on a couch, booze, cigarettes smoked, pupils dilated. The White Rabbit was already chasing through his system, burning his nostrils, igniting his irises with a bright crimson colour. Tilting his head he grinned at the girl, curled fingers beckoning her to come closer. "Don't go, Warren...Stay." The girl followed as summoned without hesitation, drawn in by the vampire's charisma. Soft freckled cleavage peeking from her black silk dress as she leaned in. Warren hadn't moved to go elsewhere, expression turned semi-stoic as he watched.

A gloved hand brushed over her arm, as he leaned whispering to her ear; secretively convincing her to sit next to him, enjoy her time, not many had to chance to be around him. Oh, yes, she was special, wasn't she?"And I love the hair..." The vampire purred as he leaned back against his seat.

Watching as she slid in next the the boss, Warren with his hands braced behind his back, stared at her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders. She was giggling lightly at his compliment, surely she had heard of him, yes she had, but she had no idea what she had walked into. The woman leaned into his touch entranced by his gaze. Warren had seen this sort of thing before often enough, he knew Cold had a thing for redheads. He had no interest in watching him fuck the woman, and so he stood there merely because he had been told not to leave.

Pressing his nose to the woman's neck, breathing her scent, Indrid continued to whisper seductively. A kiss on her jaw, a kiss upon her lips, while his hands delved into that mane of fiery hair. Gently he pushed her down on the couch, his hands traveling over the soft curves of her body. Digits pushing under her short skirt with a light caress, nothing more, teasing with the thought of more. But he never would touch them that way, never pressed further than the idea that seemed to distract her. Purring, his honey words never stopped, and as his crimson eyes locked on her Cold began to remove his glove, deep red scales gleamed from that hand, "You are a beautiful flower, doll. Has anyone told you that? Beautiful, wonderful, time should never lay a hand on you."

What was he doing? To Warren there was something so strange about the seduction as it took place. No, he wasn't utterly jaded, no matter how many years he had worked for Indrid Cold. Deep down he had clung to his humanity greedily, guarding it against all he had come to know, that now lay behind a fortified mask. But, there was something in this he hadn't quite expected. Curiosity glinted in his eyes. Whatever this was it called to something deeper still. Perhaps it was the gleam of those crimson scales he had seen a hundred of times before, they seemed more vibrant in colour; even more alive than he had ever noticed before. The woman didn't recoil from the boss once, utterly lost to this enchantment, euphoric on those words. She was pining for him, whimpering beneath his touch, heart beating so fast, breath quickened, freckles near blending with her reddened blush, subtly writhing in accordance of every touch. Her aura was singing, her thoughts blended together. In Warren's eyes she was on fire.i>/Her name is Amber./Whatever alias she used didn't matter, he knew her name. The young man was mesmerized by the whole of this scene as it played out.

Indrid was nearly laying on top of her, his hand brushing the strands of hair from her face as he spoke, so sweetly, so gently, as if he was truly in love with her. A kiss was stolen from her lips, tender and slow. "You will be young, and beautiful..." The vampire spoke as his free hand brushed over her chest and shoulders, "A beautiful flower, eternal..." The fingers tapped her swan neck, before they closed around it, "...in my garden, forever..." Indrid uttered a purr, his hand closing harder around her throat, squeezing, shivering as he heard and felt the bones breaking, the skin bruising. "Hush.." Mr. Cold whispered, stealing another soft kiss, enjoying the feeling of a life slipping from it mortal flesh.

Wide eyed he watched, a chill running up his spine. For it was not only her fiery aura that had begun to see. Something in the boss had changed; in Warren's eyes, Cold's skin had turned ashen gray, crimson scales no more, his right hand was dripping wet with fresh blood. Blood that in reality was not there, and yet as Cold's grip closed tightly around her throat he could see the smears of that blood. Lips parted, voice caught in his throat... Why couldn't he speak? Why couldn't he fucking shout? It was to late, he heard the crack of her neck. She had been clawing Indrid's hands trying to break free, but he was to strong; monstrously strong. A flower for his garden, freshly plucked. So many times he heard mention of that garden, the boss's poetic rambling. Warren had never before paid that much attention, till now.

That heavily fortified mask of his began to crack, humanity seeping through as tears welled in his eyes and spilled over. It was beautiful, it was terrible. It is said that it takes hours for the energy to dissipate from the dead. Yet he watched as that fire faded away. What came next he had never before witnessed, as she suddenly reappeared a short distance away, her soul still alight with that colourful light Indrid Cold had ignited in her. She was reaching out. Warren was slowly stepping backwards bracing himself against the wall as he saw that dark skeletal figure take her hand. Shadows smoking off this figure, large black moths materializing from it's dark shape, and it's eyes like two orbs of red fire. Blue hues refused to linger on what ever it was... averting of their own accord, only out of the corner of his vision could he really see it; Death. The woman was smiling. Gooseflesh, chills, hair raising, Warren had gone pale, and yet... He wasn't afraid.

Surely some one had slipped a hallucinogen into his drink. Warren knew death, he had seen many killed. He had even killed, but never before had he seen Death like this. There was a low hum ringing in his ears that he couldn't shake. Breath rattled in his lungs. If it hadn't been for the wall holding him up, he may very well have buckled. His mind was humming, flicker flash, rapid thoughts; and he was still crying. Warren's blood was singing with energy, something was slowly beginning to rouse from slumber. That very same thing that Cold had been infected with so long ago. That very same thing that Warren had been born with.

The buzzing in his inner ear wouldn't stop. Was Cold talking now? Had he moved from the couch? Clutching his hair, Warren felt a blinding migraine splitting his mind; blood began to trickle from his ear, and then the rush of sound fell silent. Why was he smiling? The youth shuddered, Her name was Amber Christian. Warren whispered.

04: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  |  

Back to Blog List

Back to Blog List