02-07-2014, 06:41 PM
Nothing. The man took the card without a flicker of recognition. Confusion skidded his thoughts to a stop, but Dane decided anonymity was in his favor at the moment. Mockingbird's next appearance intended to be grander than ever. The Italian should hold onto his card. It might be quite valuable someday. Perhaps he would recognize the symbol then.
Dane took his leave only to be paused by the overwhelming sensation of threat. Like the long reach of shadows stretching forth from the late evening sun. Their claws scratched at his heels. Their gums smacked at the flow of his coat.
He turned to behold an identical sphere of orange churning a small incinerator above the Italian's palm. The force of it pressed upon his skull like a vice, but Dane smiled through the pain, a true masochist, and stepped closer.
The Italian knelt to the closest body, and Dane's heart leaped gleefully into his throat in anticipation of what he might do. He swallowed the expectation all the more forcefully when the man merely wrenched back a sleeve. Flame glowed orange on black ink, and the familiar figure of a snack devouring itself struck Dane quite curious. Such was the same figure on young lady Aria. And upon the gravestone that drew her attention.
He'd kept his distance from the corpses to resist the urge to rearrange their limbs, but Giovanni beckoned, and Dane knelt eagerly alongside him. Every inch of him quivered to stroke the cold meat with the reverence it was due. The skin would feel thinner now. The muscle and fluid would bulge and indent beneath the press of his fingers. Perhaps a brief .. No. Awkward though it was, Dane placed his hands in his pockets for the first time since their strange introduction.
Studying the image, his voice broke in raspy, contemplative breaths. "We are brothers, you and I. So tell me this, brother. What does it mean?"
Dane took his leave only to be paused by the overwhelming sensation of threat. Like the long reach of shadows stretching forth from the late evening sun. Their claws scratched at his heels. Their gums smacked at the flow of his coat.
He turned to behold an identical sphere of orange churning a small incinerator above the Italian's palm. The force of it pressed upon his skull like a vice, but Dane smiled through the pain, a true masochist, and stepped closer.
The Italian knelt to the closest body, and Dane's heart leaped gleefully into his throat in anticipation of what he might do. He swallowed the expectation all the more forcefully when the man merely wrenched back a sleeve. Flame glowed orange on black ink, and the familiar figure of a snack devouring itself struck Dane quite curious. Such was the same figure on young lady Aria. And upon the gravestone that drew her attention.
He'd kept his distance from the corpses to resist the urge to rearrange their limbs, but Giovanni beckoned, and Dane knelt eagerly alongside him. Every inch of him quivered to stroke the cold meat with the reverence it was due. The skin would feel thinner now. The muscle and fluid would bulge and indent beneath the press of his fingers. Perhaps a brief .. No. Awkward though it was, Dane placed his hands in his pockets for the first time since their strange introduction.
Studying the image, his voice broke in raspy, contemplative breaths. "We are brothers, you and I. So tell me this, brother. What does it mean?"