#killer!verse

@woodsboro-survivor * starter call * notes: killer! Laurie  (x)

       𝐓he cold metal of her blade pressed heavenly against the Patron’s rosey lips. Traces of iron blood left hints of the taste on her tongue, pleasing the girl greatly. She was doing terrifyingly well this trial, feeling no hesitation at all when it came to slaughtering familiar faces. Well, all but ONE was familiar to the devilish woman.

     She wasn’t able to properly see her, only seeing quick glimpses of dark hair as she went to hang her latest catch. To say the Patron was intriguied at a new play thing was a gross understatement. It almost BORED her to draw blood from the people she knew, their cries all numbly ringing in her ears with the painfully same sound. With 3 bodies sacrificed, & 1 generator to go, the killer’s speed upped with a dangerous blood lust. Now she would find this girl, & add her blood to her newest collection of colors painting her dress.

   Yet, nothing could prepare the slaughterer for who exactly she stumbled upon.

          Staring across the dull, blue landscape, The Patron’s masked gaze narrowed on a feminine figure lurking between pillars of a long gone building. A smile curled her lips in a sinister curve behind the pale cover, her footsteps quick on the solid ground. She could almost see where the girl had been carefully weaving through the brick walls, tiny, yet harshly bright, tears in the world around her painted a walkway, small embers kissing her pale skin.

   Close enough to make out who she was hunting, the Patron’s mind came to a DEAD HAULT

   No, no it couldn’t be.

               Oh yes, Angel, it IS.

       Courting the most perfect killer long ago, The Patron knew more about this woman than most likely any other survivor she’d ever cross. Sydney-Motherfucking-Prescott. Her hazel eyes widened, taking in all the light is possibly could in order to debunk this hallucination. But it wasn’t just an illusion, it was real. She was real. In living, breathing, moving reality, this son of a damned bitch was standing infront of her. It was all so much, but also, just the perfect kick for her violence.

    The Patron instantly reached for her blade, withdrawing the weapon with striking precision. She was at a loss of words, the killer who’s main power was her voice & its’ demonic ways, couldn’t seem to find them. She had gone quiet, silent, just like her brother. Her entire being was overcome with an unbearable animalistic rage. Billy’s words about her rang through her mind faster than any bullet ever could, so fast that her head was burning in pain.

     Behind the screaming mask, her jaw was locked in an agressive, immobile position. It felt as if her teeth would shatter under the pressure she was putting on it. The Patron’s muscles shreiked in electric pain, her emotions taking form in a sinister physical way. Her hands never had begged so desperately for the sticky warmth of blood, quivering with sheer adrenaline.

    Her words now a low, condescending growl, the Patron arched her knife mechanically, raising it up to glimmer in the washed-out moonlight, other hand pulling brutally on the other woman’s hair.

 “ Look what DISGUSTING RAT

     {‡}; He had been assumed dead for over 40 years.

      What no one knew was that he still was amongst them, and only a matter of years ago he had eradicated a few female lives from the Whitechapel area. Edgar did it mostly for the purpose of testing his own medicinal knowledge and the proof of the dexterity of the murders proved that he was well educated in such matters, and he had been titled "Jack the Ripper".

       No one even suspected that he had been the killer, and to this day he showed no guilt. However, as he prowled about his old murdering grounds of Whitechapel, news came his way with the idea of a further investigation, even after the years that had already passed between the 'Jack the Ripper' murders and the current day.

        Of course, this did not deter the morbid-minded poet.

        Instead, he searched for this detective. He would offer his services as he had in his warm, mortal days because of his attention to detail and critical thinking skills. And it seemed that his target had nearly fallen into his lap; a tall man, closely investigating the location that he had laid his first victim.

My muse is furious, how does yours calm them down?

     ‡ Poe spun the knife around his finger and grinned at the newest victim, lying on the ground with bounds around their hands and feet. "You see, I would not normally use such binds, but when you threatened to run? Now, we could not have that, now could we?" he purred, this time bringing the tip of the blade and spinning it against his fingertip, causing some ruby drops to appear. He put his finger to his lips and licked it, removing the blood.