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31_days2012-03-21 11:04 am
metallikirk.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-03-21 11:04 am
March 21st [Priest (2011)] Died and Reborn
Title: Died and Reborn
Day/Theme: March 21st; times are hard for dreamers
Series: Priest (2011)
Character/Pairing: Black Hat
Rating: PG-13
The light of the flames flickered over a black hatted figure as he stood below thee crucified Priests, yellow gaze staring upwards and watching those still forms with infinite patience. It had been a long time since they’d died, yet still Black Hat stood there, waiting for a sign that would never come. His vampire senses tingled, still feeling that relentless rush from his feed earlier in the evening, fresh warm blood pumping through his system, coinciding with the thrill of the chase, the hunt, the eventual crucifixion and infinite pain and terror the Priests had displayed. He could still taste their fear, fed on their pain as much as he fed on blood and he grinned, fangs glittering in the light of the hungry flames.
His gaze drifted down, to stare at the floor beneath his booted feet, patience dimming now as boredom set in. The deaths weren’t enough, and they never would be enough for him, souls only lasting as long as the life that drained from dying bodies, to fly up and away, well out of reach where they belonged. Black Hat couldn’t contain those souls and had never wanted to; what he wanted was revenge and blood and ever-lasting sin. The Priests that hung above his head represented everything he despised, everything he’d grown to hate in the world, as if their very robed figures stank of piety and betrayal at every turn.
To think he had ever thought of himself as one of those, puling pussing sores upon the face of the Earth, believing they had the answers to everything and the strength to withstand it all. In that, they were wrong; they hadn’t counted for him, coming from within their very ranks to cut them all down.
“Times are hard for dreamers, are they not?” Black Hat snarled, suddenly, gruff voice cutting through the air and carrying clearly over the hissing, crackling flames of the fires. “It is lucky for me, that I am not such a fool.”
He turned away then, disgust and boredom carrying his feet away to better places, better adventures, better food and prey. He knew death intimately and had long since become one with it, feeling its cold embrace eternally, reminding him that he could not, would not dream. Once he’d died as a Priest and had thus been reborn a vampire, he had lost his humanity and left it and his dreams far behind him
Day/Theme: March 21st; times are hard for dreamers
Series: Priest (2011)
Character/Pairing: Black Hat
Rating: PG-13
The light of the flames flickered over a black hatted figure as he stood below thee crucified Priests, yellow gaze staring upwards and watching those still forms with infinite patience. It had been a long time since they’d died, yet still Black Hat stood there, waiting for a sign that would never come. His vampire senses tingled, still feeling that relentless rush from his feed earlier in the evening, fresh warm blood pumping through his system, coinciding with the thrill of the chase, the hunt, the eventual crucifixion and infinite pain and terror the Priests had displayed. He could still taste their fear, fed on their pain as much as he fed on blood and he grinned, fangs glittering in the light of the hungry flames.
His gaze drifted down, to stare at the floor beneath his booted feet, patience dimming now as boredom set in. The deaths weren’t enough, and they never would be enough for him, souls only lasting as long as the life that drained from dying bodies, to fly up and away, well out of reach where they belonged. Black Hat couldn’t contain those souls and had never wanted to; what he wanted was revenge and blood and ever-lasting sin. The Priests that hung above his head represented everything he despised, everything he’d grown to hate in the world, as if their very robed figures stank of piety and betrayal at every turn.
To think he had ever thought of himself as one of those, puling pussing sores upon the face of the Earth, believing they had the answers to everything and the strength to withstand it all. In that, they were wrong; they hadn’t counted for him, coming from within their very ranks to cut them all down.
“Times are hard for dreamers, are they not?” Black Hat snarled, suddenly, gruff voice cutting through the air and carrying clearly over the hissing, crackling flames of the fires. “It is lucky for me, that I am not such a fool.”
He turned away then, disgust and boredom carrying his feet away to better places, better adventures, better food and prey. He knew death intimately and had long since become one with it, feeling its cold embrace eternally, reminding him that he could not, would not dream. Once he’d died as a Priest and had thus been reborn a vampire, he had lost his humanity and left it and his dreams far behind him