#assassinvaniti

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assassin-vaniti

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kumiho-vanitas

          Whilst it was a rather large rarity to be left essentially defenseless— Eyes lightly fluttered shut, and antennae messily scattered along the ground, the Heartless seems to be in a lulled rest.

The restaurant was closed and locked tight, but that meant nothing to someone of his strength. Claws were already out, literally scrapping against the red brick with the internal war against his conscience. One week. No food. Barely any water. No blood. It only made sense his control couldn't last. It was just one guy. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Middle of the night. Almost dead quiet. Just a young man walking a little too far to the right of the walkway. Steps slow and lazy and wobbly. Heart rate steady, whetting the appetite. Wasn't paying attention, too focused on his phone. Passing in and out of the light of the street lamps without a care in the world. Not even noticing the short kid in a dark hoodie leaning up against the corner of the building with a quivering hand over his pale mouth. Not as sunken yellow eyes began to glow orange with voracious yearning behind his sunglasses. He was just. So. Damn. Perfect.

The pedestrian was too startled to even scream as the clawed hand grabbed his jaw. A yank from his jaw, a shove on his lower back to swing him around the corner into the alley. Momentum more than brute strength thrust him to his knees against the side of the restaurant's dumpster with an almost thunderous clap. The collision of the victim's brow bone would have bounced the skull back of not for the force against his jaw. The assaulter pressed his knee into his back to replace his hand, and caught one of the flailing limbs, but not before his claws scrapped against skin. The attacker yanked the victim's head back against his chest, forcing him to look at the face of his assaulter upside down.

His breath was rank, like old blood, and gag-inducing. Skin was pale, eyes fierce and red as they bore into the eyes of his victim over the rim of his shades. Through the shadows in the black of night, it was more apparent than ever that what held him was nothing more than a demon. And then a deep, unmistakable growl shook the very bones of his body. "S t o p." He commanded.

His hands were cold iron. Freezing and unyielding. Claws on his wrist sliced into the soft pale skin of the prey's forearm. The hand grasping his jaw craned his head to the side, letting cold air bite into his skin. And then let four needle-like points chomp into his throat, right into his artery.

The first puncture was a spurt, leaving some blood to escape before he could encompass his lips around the wound. Two drops trickled down to disappear into the shirt. Like a drinking fountain just released. It was not until after seven gulps he needed to actually suck. For a wound one did not normally "feel" the bleeding of a wound. But in this case, the victim could feel the distinct pull of blood from his veins. The razor knives in his muscle ensured his lack of movement. Even a single budge sent shots of pain through him. 

Yet after what couldn't have been more than three minutes, (granted, a very long and tormenting three minutes) the monster carefully retracted his fangs from the skin. He sighed shakily in satisfaction, breath ghosting over the vulnerable skin. The wound leaked, and compelled him to lap it, like a dog tending it's own wound. It numbed the wound and cleaned the blood free, before beginning the rate of accelerated healing. Once finished, the voice was still low, resonating through his victim with the lace of a growl. "Drink some water. Eat something sweet. Go home to your family. You'll be okay. Just eat some more garlic from now on. That'll keep things like us away."

assassin-vaniti