Vishous 4.13.12

Vishous_
[Flipping over, tearing the black silk sheet free of it's tangle around my body, I throw my forearm over my face with a grunt. The worst fucking thing about being a vampire was the time constraints set by the sun. Glaring at the bedside clock, the red digital numbers mocking me as they refuse to move any faster. Twisting myself from the mattress, my hand closes around the black robe Fritz had so kindly hung in my bathroom. Shrugging into it, deft hands tie the sash before I slip my pouch of Turkish and a pack of papers into the wide front pocket. Leaving my room, I head straight for the couch and the enormous rear-projection TV. Dropping into the buttery leather, kicking my feet onto the cluttered coffee table, I try to focus my thoughts on the bland nothing that is late night TV. The head to head with Wrath earlier was still digging its heels into my mind. Fuck yeah. I know he's got the frustrates to his eyebrows, but he's not alone, true? It's been four months. Four long, unproductive, backwards moving months. We're fighting the battle and they're winning the war. Jabbing my thumb against the remote, I flip through random channels with little hope of finding anything worthwh... ] Wait a fucking minute...

[A smirk tugs at the corners of my mouth as today's discussion gets shoved on a back shelf. I find my mind racing, not unusual. What is out of the ordinary is where it's going. Right. Fucking. Now.]

[Passing up the movie's credits, I'm jumping up from the couch and moving quickly through the tunnels to the mansion. Thank fuck for shutters. Having us trapped under the same roof during daylight was more than enough. Stick us each in our own rooms for the duration?

Un-fucking-thinkable. Moving swiftly, sidestepping doggen who rarely encounter the warriors that live here, I pull open the storage closet I'd seen Fritz stash holiday decorations in when St. Patrick's day had passed. Leather clad fingers tap over the neatly labeled boxes until I happen upon one in particular. Hoping like fuck this box contains what I need, I pull it down and dig through.. my hand coming out of the box gripping the prize I sought.] Fucking PERFECT! [Quickly apologizing to the female doggen who'd nearly jumped free of her skin at my outburst, I shove the box back in the closet and close the door. Jogging back through the tunnels, I skid to a stop right outside the gatehouse's fortified door. Clamping down on a chuckle, I enter silently.. making a left turn past my room to twist the knob of Murhder's door. Assuring myself the Brother's still passed out cold from the liter of ouzo he'd downed after Last Meal.

I take the item I'd snatched and move like a fucking ghost until I'm at the head of his bed. The ambient light from the hall is just enough for me to make out Murhder sprawled on his back, the bottle's neck loosely gripped in his mitt. Stretching over him, I slip the
white plastic goalie mask over his head, adjusting the eye holes perfectly with a wicked grin. Although World War Three wouldn't stand a chance at waking him, I back out slowly, closing his door with a muted click.

Stopping to turn the television off before I return to my own room I laugh to myself, murmuring the killer's warning score as I shut myself in and discard the robe. Falling backwards on the bed, an amused grin plastered to my face, diamond eyes close. Might as well try to get some sleep before the poor bastard wakes. The rhythm plays out in my mind, Jason Voorhees' stalking another round of teenage kids.] Ch ch ch.. ha ha ha... #BDBB