Little Horror(Fedafyr)

[William Saxton]

Once more Will entered the dream world. Once more he was the heartless vampire. He was once again on the search for his heart. His luck someone had it and was trying to kill it. Either that or someone had it and was holding it for him. Either way he didn't have his heart. Either way he wanted it it back or at least know why he didn't have it.

Restlessly he started walking. The mist washed over his feet and the bottom of his trench coat. Perfect, he sighed in his head. The mist covered everything as far as he could see. He couldn't see two feet in front of him. He had landed in the worst spot to start off this horror of a dream. The mist could hide anything and anything could get him. For all he knew it could be that bloody cat again. He didn't ever want to see that cat again if he could help it. Then again it could be the crazy book keeper with his death wish. A shiver ran down his spin at those thoughts. Nothing could be worse then that, could it?

He kept walking. Nothing better to do then get out of the mist. If he couldn't see then he wouldn't find his heart. He wasn't sure why when ever he got here he had to find his heart. It was just needed. He could never be sure but he always came close then woke up. That is the way it had been for a long time. He didn't think it would change.

He stopped and looked around fora way out. The mist covered everything from what he could see. He brushed his wet hair out his eyes to see better. Nothing. He couldn't see no matter how hard he tried. He rand a hand through his hair in frustration. So far this wasn't go the way he wanted it to.

[Fedafyr]

Fedafyr smelled of fresh blood. His appetite, unsatisfied, but his whole body smelled like a meal. Damn hunters... idiots think they can just go about like that, I'm so far and beyond anything they could ever hope to be.. He ran the tattered silk of what was left of his kimono across his face, smearing the red across the bridge of his nose as it stained the white skin. His fur on his tail stuck together where the blood had hardened, the dirt discoloring the soft orange glow it usually had. His clothing, torn to shreds, though his gait seemed unburdened.

Blood blew from his skin, though it seemed to bear no cuts. He looked to be damaged, but he was not. His hakama pants were torn assunder, what was left of his haori lost somewhere during the fight not twenty minutes ago. The dead body he had buried himself in lay less than a mile South of his position, but it was not satisfactory. Beings just weren't satisfactory. They couldn't make him sleep at night, rest easy in a tower beneath the flickering stars.

His nose caught a whiff of something different, something... not him. He could smell something more charged, like blood without the taint of living flesh. More importantly than that was the whiff of something else, something less natural to this world. It was the scent of dream dust--that's what he had called it, that tickling sensation that hovered on those that didn't belong--those that called this place a haven when they slept. Truly, they were rare in these places.. this misty isle of moving images and places that seemed to drift in and out of existence. He had been so angry at the hunter for leading him here--but there was the scent. Luck.

Even though he had thought it would take him hours if not days to find his way from the Mists and back to the common grounds for the intruding souls, he had stumbled upon a fated mishap--a banquet in the desert.

[William Saxton]

Will couldn't see a blasted thing. The mist blurred his vision to the point of he couldn't see a thing. The mist covered everything and anything could come out of the mist. Anything at all could and that is what scared him. He didn't know what to expect and didn't want to. If it was a surprise then let it be.

He started walking. His hair and clothing were damp from the mist. His hair clung to his head in dark straps with read trailing the end. His trench coat was wet but it was good at keeping the eater out. His hands were shoved in his pockets of the coat.

He kept walking forward. He took a deep breath and stopped dead in his tracks. Blood mingled in the air. The sweet copper smell of it was here..yet it wasn't fresh. This blood was old blood but it still wore the copper penny smell. He couldn't tell what it was out there but he knew it was had been bleeding. A small smile crossed his lip. He may get a meal out of all this, that is if he didn't find his heart.

He gave a quick look around him and saw nothing. HE would have to follow his nose to the thing. Maybe it knew a way out of here, maybe not. Maybe he could eat it afterwords.

[Fedafyr]

Fedafyr hissed out an irritable sigh as he moved forward. The damn creature smelled so close but somehow was so far away. The mists swirled around his body as he moved, cooling him and moistening flakes of blood that scampered from his flesh to drop on the floor. Hard wood formed beneath him as he stepped into another illusion hall of the realm, from the mighty castles he had fought around now to a quaint old country porch, extending far around the three story building. His nose guided him upward and over, and so he scaled quickly and stood at the top, observing the lower ground with a flick of his red tail.

There. Fedafyr smiled a wicked grin and narrowed those pretty gold eyes. A boy with white skin and tipped hair, a look of sadness on his face and the smell of someone Fedafyr wanted to consume. Dream dust hovered his head and floated around him, announcing his visitor's status. Fedafyr licked the left fang inside his mouth and let a low, feral sound bubble up from the depths of his joy.

The boy was looking around for something, and it seemed like his attention was narrowing on Fedafyr. The fox smiled a bit as he watched the nose on the other inhale deeply before he re-routed himself toward the demon.

Tracking me..? A hunter... or... just an idiot? The smirk on his face withered away as he stepped up from the rooftop and began toward the boy, dropping his body to the ground from the roof, leaving a swirl of tattered mists in his wake

[William Saxton]

He stopped moving for a moment. His eyes had caught something, movement maybe. The mist swirled around leaving the trace of something. But what? He didn't catch who moved or what moved but he new something was there.

He let his nose smell the air. The blood sent was stronger but not to strong. The blasted thing kept moving. Was it to much to ask for it to stay still for a moment, long enough for him to see it.
He started moving forward again.

He caught something while looking at the ground. Something in the mists. The mist moved. He thought anyway. It had to have moved, it just had to. He hated the mist for this reason alone, he couldn't see a damn thing.

I can smell it but what is it? Again he stopped and waited. If it was tracking him then it would come to him. That was all he needed, his heart could wait. That was when he heard the beat of his heart. It was faint and slow, he was going the wrong way but he didn't care.

[Fedafyr]

It was waiting for him--what an interesting thought. Fedafyr licked his chops and continued forward at a leisurely pace. The tap of his wooden sandals became audible, his unnatural silence disappearing like he had cast off a cloak that kept his noise from entering the atmosphere. Fedafyr's breath sucked in the mist, tasting the moisture in the air as it pooled on his tongue. He was close enough, he could smell a hint of death and foolish apprehension. Distracted? Not a good thought, Little... He took a deep breath of the air again, Boy. A few more steps, and gold eyes lit on his prey, standing still in the mists, searching him out.

Fedafyr's black hair danced across his white skin. The hazy moonlight reflected off the floating dew drops that drifted around him and cast him in a ghostly glow. Torn white silk hung down freely around him, covering where the red pleates broke and hung tattered over each other. He seemed to lack legs, absorbed as they were in the fabric, but his lovely chest was exposed, flat and slipping down into the soft curve of his belly. His gold eyes stared forward through heavy eyelashes, his lips turned upward just at the corners.

"... Dei'rh fai Tephy'ir." The words were soft, spoken in a voice that was a little too elegant to be real. It slipped into the air like a spoken song. Something beneath the words was charged, as if he was speaking to something that didn't exist ecept to him--a communication with some creature that didn't truly exist.

Welcome to the most satisfyingly horrific experience of your life--and I imagine your first experience here wasn't so great with that ominous hole. He smirked to himself, though he uttered nothing else aloud

[William Saxton]

He took a breath of the air, the sweet copper smell was closer. His hair clung to his face from the mist's moister. He clothing clung to his body as nothing more then a wet rag. The beating begun to grow more rapid in his head. He could hear it better now and it was the same slow pace as before. But something was with it, a voice. He couldn't make out the words the voice was saying.

His distracted mind wasn't good around here. He heard a voice. It was to smooth fora voice of anything he knew. Will turned to see a creature standing close by in the mists. His clothing was torn, white silk hung.

"W-W-What are you," he stuttered. He couldn't get control of his thoughts. The thing that stood before him wasn't anything he ever thought he would see. It scared him in a way.

[Fedafyr]

The ground upon which he stood trembled, the spell he had cast taking effect. The broken grass would reach, heeding to the demand of his voice, aiming to subdue his dinner. Fedafyr let his hand sweep those black tendrils back from his face and smiled a boyish smile--a frightening innocence in that face donned in blood.

"... I'm the predator." He laughed, a sound that garnered no doubts as to his position in life. Not an ounce of fear had ever touched that voice, not a kiss of weakness.

His hand descended again, through the tendrils of black hair, until it slipped to his side, where it found its way to hang off the loosely tied obi with a hooked thumb. His fox tail twitched to and fro, those golden eyes watching the man in front of him for his next move.

[William Saxton]

Shit was the only word running through his mind. Will didn't know what was standing in front of him but he didn't like it. It had called itself a predator. That was never a good thing. That would make him the pray.

He swallowed hard. "Who are you," he said, his voice crackled with fear. This thing was covered in blood and had a boyish smile. it's cloths torn and covered in blood. IT wasn't something Will was enjoying.

The grass moved. Will had caught it in the corner of his eye. He stumbled backwards. He fell quickly, sprawled on his back. His right arm was pinned under his back and his left was out to his side. He had tripped on his own jacket. He tried to get to his feet but couldn't, his foot was stuck in the jacket.

Propped up on his elbows he looked at the thing in front of him. his red eyes locking on the gold ones. Not a hint of fear was in the gold ones, fear swam in the red ones. This wasn't like him, to show his weakness but this thing brought it out.

[Fedafyr]

"It would have been wise," The kitsune's voice rang out over the wind, amplified though the quality said he spoke low. It was as if the wind was taking it directly to the boy sprawled on the ground with the writhing hole in his chest, "to keep your feet." The grass was coiling up over him, wrapping around his ankles and wrist and pulling him down--where grass should have been easy to rip and tear, the thick tendrils seemed to be strengthened a hundred fold.

The boy stepped forward toward the other on the ground, his nose twitching happily in the air, taking in the scent of fear and blood. Up close, it became easily aware that no blood on his body was his own--not a scratch adorned his perfect porcelain skin. Fedafyr was immaculate. He knelt down, feet away from the boy's head, his face very easily visible as they boy had to stare up.

"My name is Feli'fyrn te Sae'ni." His voice drifted from his lips like smooth cream, the words obviously hinted at a language long since dead--a language nobody else knew.

His fingers reached down, sharp claws barely brushing through the other boy's hair, pushing it back out of his face while tearing just the first layer of skin on his scalp where they ran--a tingling, pleasant sensation that was altogether foreboding.

[William Saxton]

Grass made its way to wrapping itself around Will's writs and Ankles. Wit ha forceful tug fro the grass he was on his back once more. AS hard as he tried he couldn't get the grass to tear or even lightened its grip on him. He lay there wrangling with grass at the beat of his heart grew slower.

A voice rang through his head. It wasn't the things voice, it was to human for that. It was Jack. The words 'I'll keep it safe' rang through his head. That it was his missing heart, the one that would fill up that whole in his chest. Jack was keeping it safe, that was some of the most comforting words there. His only problem now with that was he might not be able to get it.

The thing spoke again in a language not known to him. IT was to smooth for anything he knew, but was able to penetrate fear into him. The face was clear on the thing as Will had to look up at it. It was the face of a boy, nothing more then a boy or 12 or so. Great I'm going to die at the hands of something that looks 12. Wonderful. As the thing got closer it bent down. Will could see that the blood it wore was not its own but others. It felt as if Will's blood would soon be among the others.

Fingers reached toward his face and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see what it was going to do to him. Then he felt fingers in his hair. It was being pushed back out of his face. The sharp pain of the claw ripping the first few layers of skin followed shortly. The thing had done that on purpose. His eyes shot open as he looked directly at the thing once more.

Words were lost to him now. Speaking wouldn't get him anywhere but it wouldn't' have mattered, he lost words. Fear swallowed them and it wasn't going to spit them back up.