Roleplay City
Infusco => DOMICILES => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => John H. Wagner Heights => Topic started by: Saiketsu on July 28, 2019, 03:51:32 AM
-
continued from Last Chance (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forum/index.php?topic=7368.0).
Do not reply.
For a handful of ephemeral minutes the blood and the high were his world. As he lay there with his teeth in the throat of some vagrant, he felt capable of everything again. He had broken the old man's neck in the grapple for life and clamped his mouth shut to quiet his dying wheeze as Nikolai found his own salvation. He sucked and sucked, draining the old man well past the point of death, where the veins no longer pumped or oozed, but puckered when Nikolai finally released him, as if inflating. Before he could even let go, Nikolai was floating on that familiar cloud where everything was good again. When he was done, Nikolai picked up the old man's body, tossed it into the closest dumpster, and set the thing ablaze before driving back into the city.
He was getting lazy in his feeding and he couldn't really care less whether a neighbor reported the fire to the cops. It was the second time that night that he had killed a human so close to the city's border; nihilism was his co-pilot it seemed. At this rate he was bound to be caught and banished by one of the district leaders. Maybe even killed. It had the weight of a passing thought as he drove through the city, eyes sluggish with the amount of drugs in his system. If only he would actually overdose. That would be a thrill.
She would be waiting for him in his bed when he walked into the room, he already knew. But there were other things to do first. Nikolai flicked the light in the bathroom on and looked at himself in the mirror as he stripped. Blood from Laurent's leech extraction stained just under his nostrils, dry and flaking now. The corners of his mouth were gummed with pink leavings from the homeless man, and his chest was smeared with crackling red blood. Nikolai looked into the eyes that peered out of the hole in his chest, the tattoo echoing the night's sentiments exactly. He stepped away from the mirror and into the shower.
He remained there for what felt like hours, sitting on the floor and letting the water run over him without ever touching a bar of soap or washcloth. A tiredness pulled at him and he resisted the urge to lay on the floor and sleep. She would be waiting for him in bed again. With heavy eyelids and a wavering balance, Nikolai stepped out of the shower, wrapped his waist in a towel, and entered his bedroom at last.
Like clockwork, there She was. He smirked knowingly at Her, taking simple pleasure in the way She moved Her eyes to follow him through the room. She was tucked between his sheets, the black silk draping over Her hip in a way that would have pulled at him had he been anymore insane. One of Her hands was tucked under the pillow She was laying on, facing him, Her exposed breasts slipping with gravity toward his mattress. She watched him dry himself wordlessly as She always did nowadays. When Nikolai climbed into bed, She moved to allow him to tuck an arm under Her pillow so Her neck was against his skin. He couldn't feel Her there. He knew why and sighed.
Still She continued to look at him with that look in Her eyes - the one they didn't discuss. That did pull at him and set his insides alight. He gazed back at Her with a similar openness, but one tinged with a private sadness.
Pathetic, Judas murmured, though made no attempt to chase Her off tonight. Nikolai was thankful.
Forgetting himself, he reached out to brush a finger against Her lips - and felt nothing. He quickly retracted his hand, lest the illusion fade before he fell asleep. Nonetheless She smiled in Her private acceptance of the gesture, a twitching of Her beautiful lips. Nikolai watched and wished that he could taste them again. She would certainly leave if he tried something so physical.
She had been lingering with him for the past month or so - he never figured out why that was. She would appear from thin air some nights, usually in his bed, just like this. She would say nothing, but look at him. At first he had tried to shove Her away - Judas was never happy that She had managed her way In, especially in his weakness. His hands would meet no flesh so he would have to turn over to prevent from seeing Her, everything aching in his chest. Eventually he had become too tired to push Her away, too sick to worry about Her presence. She was nothing but a reminder of what things were. They would probably never be again.
"Sonya," he breathed to Her quietly, as if it would make Her real. She moved Her hair off Her shoulder and looked at him seriously, saying nothing. "Where are you?" He could think of nothing else to ask Her. Nothing else was appropriate. There was anger upon first seeing Her, the thrill of finally having Her back. It tore at the cavern of his chest terribly to see Her, but to not have her. Like twisting nails in his flesh. He had accepted Her place there in his bed. He could watch Her, look at the way She moved, talk to Her. But She never responded, never came closer to him, never did anything to make the aching stop.
How could She? She was buried in the ocean, hopefully somewhere deep to avoid the sun and burrowing creatures.
Laurent's words echoed like phantoms in his ears. "Odessa Turkevich has been sighted in two places: Sticks and Stakes Pool Hall, and the home of Damien Evans." The words ate at him in a way he couldn't explain or examine, gnawing like rats on the edges of what peace he could capture now. He was lying, of course - Nikolai knew that without even checking. There would be no point to check. He had waited for months on that beach for Her to return and there was no telling when she would resurface. Surely almost two years was too short of a period of time to go to ground.
But why would Laurent lie about this specifically if he knew that Nikolai could just look into it himself?
Nikolai sighed shallowly, looking at the Woman in his bed. It didn't matter and he was tired - tired of fighting everything, tired of the drugs, tired of being used, of being fucked, of being Laurent and Mitchelletto's little bitch. His eyelids were dropping as he watched Her. "Sonya," he murmured once as his eyes slipped shut and he drifted into a restless dream of Her death.
By the time he awoke the next night, She was gone.