pushing boundaries }} Aren x Dem }} rave

[k!ah]

DEMITRI

In my, uh, occupation I come across many rumours and sects that most people in the district would never hear about. I hear things that I don't war to hear, things that are petty and insignificant and things that spark my interest, making me want to dig deeper, to find out more about. I guess that was what I was doing now. I was meat to be doing one of my assignments, the one that involves an old man who enjoyed watching children and taking their photos. He has kidnapped a few too, taking them away from their mothers and into his home where he keeps them locked in his basement. I had told the leader that I wouldn't be able to complete this task as I had something else to do. If anyone else had of spoken to the leader this way he would have slit their throat right then and there, but because it was me he gave me a frustrated nod and shooed me off, passing the task to Phan.

Phan hadn’t been pleased with the kind gesture o my behalf, but there was no way he was going to turn it down, even though I was almost sure he would be drunk of his face when he carried the mission out. Ha, not my problem now, I shrug, with a smile that dread like wild fire across my face. generally someone in my occupation would be seen stoney faced, or have that crazy glint in the back of their eyes. But not me. I took pride in my work, it didn't effect my like it effected others. To others it was serious but for me it was art. Everything I did I did with the touch of a well thought out artist feel. I never left if I wasn't pleased with my work, never. I wonder what Phan would be going wit the old man. I knew that I would pull his legs over his head, almost in a pretzel, then I would sew his mouth together and maybe sew some buttons on for eyes before slitting his wrinkly throat and watch the blood flow from my masterpiece.

Buuuut, this was not what I should be thinking about. I should be concentrating on my own personal mission that I had planned today. As I said earlier I heard things around the district that strike an interest in me and today I was trying to satisfy my curiosity. Today I was going to find out more about the Blackmore’s. I had heard so much about them, so much juicy gossip that I could no loner stay away. The majority of the District know them to be a prestige family who where post, polite and a little bit odd. How little did they know. If the source of my knowledge it right, these people are total polar opposites of what they make themselves out to be. It was very fascinating.

I had heard that they had sick hobbies, hobbies that would make the people around them fear them. I had heard that there was a cannibal, someone with vampiric tendencies and others who loved to torture people in sick ways. They almost seemed like my type of people. Almost. I liked to think of myself as an Artist- what did they think of themselves? I knew that I would never drink the blood of my victim, or eat their flesh- that was just crossing a line that I would never even consider. Nut there was also another factor that I wanted to consider. Why did they do it? Why did they kill people? There was only one answer that I would accept, if I was told otherwise I knew that I would have to kill them. I knew it. I would report them to my leader and soon people like me would be sent after them to end their life.

Because, because our motives may be very different. You se I didn't kill people for fun- yes I had fun doing it because, who wouldn’t? I was doing something I was passionate about- but, heres the but, the people I kill are people who break the law, people who are putting my District, my home, in danger. I didn't kill innocent people. I only killed the guilty. No one else.

I come to a halt and I am outside an extravagant house with tall iron fences and huge stone walls. It looked like something from a fairy tale, a castle that would be home to a damsel in distress. I tilt my head to the side slightly as I study the sturdy walls, the tall fence and the lack of garden. My whole life I had been taught to move with the shadows, to become one with the elements around me, so by studying my area I would gain all the knowledge I needed to infiltrate without being spotted- but was that what I wanted? I wanted to know more about the family, about the inhabitants and there was only one way I could get what I wanted. I needed to talk with one of them.

Hastily, I climb over the tall fence. To most people this task might have seemed daunting and difficult, but for me it was a piece of came as I have been taught to climb things like this from the age of six. I drop down to the other side and png gracefully in a cat like crouch, my eyes searching the empty yard. here was only a couple trees in the yard and I wander over to one and climb it easily. Usually I wouldn't hide in such a childish spot, but today I do. I wanted to be spotted after all. I wasn't scared of these people, I dealt with people like this everyday- there was nothing to fear here. I smile and let out a low whistle in the hopes that someone with sharp ears might hear it and bee interested to find out where it was coming from.

[Deleted]

As per usual, the lung of a building their cancerous family takes refuge in shutters with noise from the floor beneath the carpeted coating, padding the soles of . Layered voices flood her ears with the all too common speech of gaudy family importance and differentiating opinions on the matter, but the select choice of words she held to the back of her tongue tasted of apathy. This stir crazed family was held together loosely by Aragorn like corroding glue, due to him being the embodiment of tough love, but caring enough to hide the disgust of preserved flesh clogging a shelf of their refrigerator was nearly too troublesome. Despite her own history of stealing limbs like jewelry, having to be associated with sociopaths and cannibals masqueraded to be sympathetic tugged at the back of her throat like a child dearing for attention. Of course, her care to clean up the mess that was her family failed to meet up with the effort needed, so wallowing in her room seemed more fluent. The snatched tin foil bag of potato chips fusing thrown atop her maroon bed sheets laying seductively in her wake, before being leaped on by the girl. Cracking chips coating the air, along with its vinegar perfume, as prodigious teeth fracture one after another, yet her full focus rest blindly on the gradual rising voices beneath her. Subtly, the sly corners of her mouth stretch further with every entry and crack of a chip matching the crescendo of the murmur vibrating between the walls of atmosphere stretching between each member. Though, she is pacmaning the fuck out of those chips; crumbs dotted her fingers quickly, along with lining her, otherwise, colorless shirt as her throat ached on the verge of robust laughter fueled from the chaos beneath her. Her hand covered her mouth instinctively to diminish the volume of the childish laughters released as the matching insults fling in mutiny; the ends of her fingers whipped the collection of chips onto the ground in the movement, however. Promptly, the grin evaporated as her lover's pieces coat the beige carpet in flavoured dust and despair, the liberated chips burying themselves into the thicket of brown flooring while the word fuck swept across them from her powder covered lips. Pecking nails scrap the floor in desperate attempts to salvage as much as possible, vinegar licking at her skin in a ghost's form. Surely she would rather have Olivia mop it up as per usual, so the mess mattered less, but saving the corpse of the fallen weighed more on her heart than anything else. Vines of the flooring's strands wrapped itself around the textures, but she believed Ripred to be forgiving and having their loss haunt her turned the taste lingering on the tip of her tongue bitter in spite. Eyes wet with the refusal of acknowledging the loss of that many chips rubbed into the ground, the vinegar dust smudged a mark of her fingertips across the window next to her in her touch. Her thick pupils tracing the scar left on the, otherwise, pristine window, the world distorted, leaving the other side in mere blobs. Despite the water glazing the pair of eyes and grease leaving the outside awry, the figure of a man scaling the sole tree in their yard was questionable. Skeptically, she blinked the liquid away before prying the window open with the slippery fingertips outlaying her hand, white paint scraping between the nails shielding them. The minuscule whistle emanating from the man flowed meekly over the climaxed volume underneath her, while goosebumps of uncomfort lined under her skin. Crumbs and strands danced beneath her feet as they stormed across the floor and into the fray that was the downstairs of their house, the bag of the few remaining chips flew from her hand like witchcraft before she dove into the pantry for a certain contraption. The slender fingers of her grasped around the wooden base inelegantly before marching back to window to inspect the man more, and a grin bowing onto her face once she arrived. Still, the man perched in the tree, reeking of interest far more appetizing than the weak insults flying haphazardly around her, while her crossed arms rest against the wooden panel of her window, the mouse trap hidden beneath the back of her arm.

[k!ah]

DEMITRI

My whistles begin to grow infrequent as I am almost sure that no one is around to hear them. I don't know what I had been trying to achieve by the whistle- how was a sound as soft as a whistle supposed to beak through the walls of steel that concealed the secrets of the people within? Shrugging I hold on tightly to one of the more secure looking branches and lean over so that my body is sticking out of the cover of the leaves. there was no way they could miss me now. And of they truly were the people that I had been hearing about by my small birdies then they would defiantly want to find out more about a stranger lurking on their turf.

The bark beneath my fingers is rough and flakey, making my grip become lose and uncertain. My eyes search the windows looking for sign of life. Most were dark and brooding, only a few showed songs of life. My eyes catch site of a girl, I see her eyes catch sight of my slender body, before she turned around and stormed from my view. A frown slip upon my face. She had had short mousy hair, her eyes I had not been able to distinguish but I had been certain that the look on her face had been one of disappointment or despair. I knew she had seen me, I only had to wait now, wait for her to corner me and demand my reason for trespassing on land that did not belong to me.

Suddenly light burst into the window of the room that I could only presume to be the kitchen. I see the girl again, I watch as a slender arm reaches into a cupboard, only to come out empty handed as she turns away from it and towards me. Her actions surprised me a little making my hand slip from its perch in the tree. For a moment I am suspended in thin air only to be pushed down by the gravity that surrounded me. I fall to the ground in one clid motion, my stomach hitting fist knocking the wind from my chest. I roll onto my side my hands clutching my chest as I begged for air to enter. I suck desperately at the air around me in ragged gulps, trying to inflate the lungs that had deflated so suddenly. It takes a few moments to pull myself together and when I do I know that my cheeks which are usually so clean of colour are painted with elegant strokes of red.

I dust my dark shirt clean from the dust that had collected and clear my throat. I was supposed to be an assassin, someone whose movements were elegant and accurate. Not a fool who could even keep their balance. I was a man know for my intentional movements, I prided myself in being perfect with my footing. The performance I had just put on was one for a comedian, not a man focused in the art of killing.

Finally I allow my gaze to slide upwards where it freezes on the girl I had saw earlier. The window was open and she was slung lazily over it, her arms crossed loosely her gaze focussed on me. There was something in the way she looked at me, something that I could not exactly put my finger on- but a look that I was certain that I wore when I was around Phantlilius- amusement. I choke back the scowl and a one of regrettable words that threatened to slip onto my face and past the guard of my lips. I needed to play it cool if I wanted to collect the information that I had come here to accumulate.

I plaster an expression of mcm confusion onto my face before wandering over to the Blackmore girl. “I think I am lost,” as I say it I use my open palm and tap it against my forehead. “Would you mind informing me my whereabouts? It would be greatly appreciated.” A wide smile slips onto my thin lips my eyes sparkling with the unanswered question.