01-20-2015, 05:32 PM
The fight ended with the smaller man the victor. Malik smiled at his tenacity, his unwillingness to go down. He was heavily bruised and battered- the unlikely victory had cost him dearly- but he had won. In the end, that was all that mattered. And if you should have to lose, you made the cost dear enough that the winner did not feel it much of a victory.
People soon drifted away to other places, to watch other fights. He would join them in moments. Darkness wreathed him and the smell of blood and sweat was still fresh in the air. A tremulous excitement swept over him. For a moment he heard a memory of echoed screams. A slow smile spread across his face. He did not feel the need to hunt, not yet. The memory was enough, something to savor over and over again. While his other hunts had been personal and most cherished for those reasons, he'd enjoyed this last one far more than he would have imagined. The inventiveness of it was very satisfying. A warmth burned in his chest as the details and clever flourishes came to him. The exhilaration of sitting in judgement, of the anger and arrogance and defiance shaved away a sliver at a time until full throated pleas for mercy and forgiveness were all that remained.
His reverie left him virtually motionless, as if he had receded into the shadows. Gradually, he came to himself, his drink forgotten in his hand. Only his eyes moved as he became aware of a man and a woman walking to one of the tables, a silver reservation slip atop it.
He smiled as he watched her lead- and there was not question with the way she stalked and looked about- the man. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. The woman was very attractive and she knew it. Her clothing and hair and makeup were calculated to befuddle and obfuscate the male- or female, for that matter- mind. A coolly beautiful and deadly viper.
His small smile remained as he watched her seat herself, carefully crossing lovely legs, body language enticing the man while at the very same time indicating its calculation. Mentally he toasted her with his drink.
Manipulation was always a pleasure to watch.
People soon drifted away to other places, to watch other fights. He would join them in moments. Darkness wreathed him and the smell of blood and sweat was still fresh in the air. A tremulous excitement swept over him. For a moment he heard a memory of echoed screams. A slow smile spread across his face. He did not feel the need to hunt, not yet. The memory was enough, something to savor over and over again. While his other hunts had been personal and most cherished for those reasons, he'd enjoyed this last one far more than he would have imagined. The inventiveness of it was very satisfying. A warmth burned in his chest as the details and clever flourishes came to him. The exhilaration of sitting in judgement, of the anger and arrogance and defiance shaved away a sliver at a time until full throated pleas for mercy and forgiveness were all that remained.
His reverie left him virtually motionless, as if he had receded into the shadows. Gradually, he came to himself, his drink forgotten in his hand. Only his eyes moved as he became aware of a man and a woman walking to one of the tables, a silver reservation slip atop it.
He smiled as he watched her lead- and there was not question with the way she stalked and looked about- the man. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. The woman was very attractive and she knew it. Her clothing and hair and makeup were calculated to befuddle and obfuscate the male- or female, for that matter- mind. A coolly beautiful and deadly viper.
His small smile remained as he watched her seat herself, carefully crossing lovely legs, body language enticing the man while at the very same time indicating its calculation. Mentally he toasted her with his drink.
Manipulation was always a pleasure to watch.