|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 2, 2010 23:27:27 GMT -5
There were a very few number of individuals in the world to whom murder could be considered foreplay. Banshee was among that strange few. She could barely remember why this particular cat had to die - Macavity had explained it yesterday but she couldn't summon it. All she knew was that he'd screamed beautifully and as she returned to her den in the No-Man's Land that was Mac-Daddy's territory, her skin felt hot and her clothes felt suffocating. She was dressed as she often did for her dirty work. White mens undershirt, now speckled with cherry-red drops of blood, a pair of rather faded and ripped jeans, and heavy boots.
Making her way into the abandoned shed she called a home, she kicked off her shoes and prowled the interior of the room, rubbing the back of her neck with one clawed hand. The other snaked down between her jean-clad thighs, to press on the M scar inside her thigh. It didn't hurt anymore, it was too old. Hissing with displeasure, she poked her head outside to see if anyone else was around.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 2, 2010 23:32:58 GMT -5
Chris stood outside, paw over his collar the way he often did as he looked over one spot in the horizon and one spot only. He wasn't sure why there, why there out of any spot, really, but God, it made him ache.
Sometimes it was hard to remember what the kittens looked like, just like her face.
He'd stayed simple, a tshirt with cargo pants over boxers, often the same attire he'd wear even back then. There was so little meaning left.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 2, 2010 23:44:31 GMT -5
Banshee's caught sight of another member of the gang, back to her, staring out into the sunset. Chris. Perfect.
Strutting out of her den, she made her way over to where the tom was standing. She topped a few feet behind him, crossing her arms, watching him for a moment. She had no idea what he was staring at, but she had a good idea what was on his mind.
"Chris?" she purred as a means of making herself known, accent momentarily ambiguous.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 2, 2010 23:45:34 GMT -5
He turned then, gazing Banshee in the eye before offering a nod of his head. "Hey." A one word answer, mind not in the right spot entirely.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 2, 2010 23:47:38 GMT -5
She closed the gap between them, putting a clawed hand on his shoulder, trying to find what his eyes were focused on.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked, frankly not all that interested, but she liked getting him riled up. It was good fun.
She knew what he was thinking about, or at least, the general idea. Whenever he was like this, stony and silent, chances were he was thinking about his kittens, getting his throat cut, and of course, Coalie.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 2, 2010 23:49:49 GMT -5
At first he was silent before he lowered his head. "I can't help but think she's out there. I don't understand it. I don't understand why she'd do something like that." He closed his eyes for a moment, a deeper breath taken. "Maybe there was a reason. She used to be so sweet."
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 2, 2010 23:55:47 GMT -5
Banshee rolled her eyes, digging her claws into his shoulder a bit. However, her distaste for Coalie, coupled with this fine oppurtunity to fuck with Chris' head made her lips quirk upwards in a smirk..
"'Cause she was 'ateful, Chris. Bu the end she didn't love you or yer kits or any of us in the gang." The lies rolled off her tongue, smooth as silk. She brought her head closer to his ear, voice barely louder than a whisper. "No one who loved you could 'urt you so bad, Chris. She was a traitor to the gang, the family."
She peered back out at the failing light, wondering it Coalie still was out there. Her blood boiled to think of what she'd like to do to the queen, should they ever cross paths again.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 2, 2010 23:58:36 GMT -5
Pain.
Chris's face scrunched up. Flashes of memory. Flashes of red.
His shoulder jerked from the sting of the claws,not quite puncturing the skin, but it was there.
Coalie--that hate-filled bitch he'd loved. Killing their kits. Hating the family. Traitor. No love.
His head ached. It was painful.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 3, 2010 0:00:43 GMT -5
Banshee kept her claws firmly in place, still speaking directly into Chris's ear. "What would you do to her, if she was right 'ere, right now?" She asked, low purr slowly turning into a hateful snarl. "What would you say to 'er? Would you hurt her?" Her tone was growing slightly more excited, and she dug her other set of claws into her palm, enjoying the sharp bite of pain.
"Tell me." She hissed, snagging her lip between her sharp teeth, yellow eyes on fire with fiendish delight.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 3, 2010 0:06:54 GMT -5
"I'd--"
Anger.
His shoulders quaked. An image to mind.
"I'd tell'er--I'd tell'er she's a backstabbing cunt."
Pain.
"I'd hurt her. I'd hurt her good. I'd... I'd hurt anyone who she liked. Anyone she pretended to love. I'd hurt her. I'd hurt her so bad. I'd fuck her arse so hard she'd bleed. I'd fuck her pussy with a bottle. I'd have the guys take a ride. As many as possible. I'd have her break. I'd have her covered in blood."
The words came faster, his eyes a bit wild.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 3, 2010 0:19:54 GMT -5
Banshee watched Chris shake with rage beneath half closed lids. "Good." She muttered, still smirking horribly. Her palms felt warm and wet, from where her own claws had pierced the skin. Bringing her scratched hand up to lick at it, she worked her hand up his shoulder, massaging gently, feeling the tenseness in his muscles.
"Ain't good to have so much anger, luv." She purred, wiping blood on her already bloodied shirt. It was such a lie, she herself hoarded her anger like it was precious, but she wanted to plant the idea in Chris's head. "Gotta take it out on something. Someone. Otherwise, you just might burst."
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 3, 2010 0:23:35 GMT -5
"Take it out... take it out... on her," he said, voice almost a bit droned as he rocked into the touch, groaning deeply.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 3, 2010 0:36:33 GMT -5
"Well she ain't here, is she," growled Banshee, stilling her movement, the taste of her own blood on her tongue, firing into her nerve endings, making her skin itch and slow fire work it's way through her body. "No one here but me, luv."
Banshee was not a cat of many talents, but she had a fiew. The first was making things bleed and scream, not necessarily in that order. Another was a penchant for picking up accents. "Don't you know how much I like to be punished?" She asked, for the split second it took to speak that sentence, she affected a perfect American tone of voice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 3, 2010 0:39:23 GMT -5
He froze a moment, pulling away from her a bit sharply, eyes wider.
No. No... it couldn't be her...
A similar build. Those jeans and undershirts he never understood why she liked. That face. That tone. That... something.
"Ki--Ki--" A shaking. "Coalie..?"
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 3, 2010 2:47:47 GMT -5
Banshee rolled her eyes. Everlasting Cat, Chris was a bit weird of times, even for the gang. She kept the accent going, turning to face him. "Why don't we play a game," she suggested, tail lashing back and forth. "It's called 'I'm the loveless bitch that ruined your life'. Do you know how to play?" She purred, stepping in close to him to caress the side of his face with one clawed hand.
"Don't I deserve to be punished?" She asked, face momentarily deadly serious. She turned her back to him, taking a few sauntering steps towards her den, looking over her shoulder to watch his reaction.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 3, 2010 10:02:57 GMT -5
"I don't want to play--" Chris began at first before straining. Did he know how to play? He knew. He knew how to play. He'd hurt her. Hurt her bad, and she'd thrive off it.
He stalked after the queen, eyes on her, the anger still simmering.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jun 8, 2010 1:50:04 GMT -5
Banshee slunk into her house, turning to fact the door as Chris followed her.
"I ruined your life, didn't I?" She said, voice lower, darker than usual, still affecting the accent. "What are you going to do about it?"
She was relying on the fact Chris would still have some idea that this was Banshee, and Not Kit before him, and not actively murder her, but still have enough anger to hurt her the way she liked. Banshee was far from breakable. In fact, she wanted to be broken.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jun 8, 2010 9:09:49 GMT -5
"I don't want... I don't want..."
Everything hurt. His head hurt. Everything was blurred. There was the sound, this horrible sound, the throbbing of a heartbeat. The blurred one. Light. Darkness. Red. Gripping arms. Something so sharp he didn't feel it at first. A heavy hand. Boots. He remembered boots. Screaming. A name.
His name.
His eyes closed and opened, the lines that were blurry. He saw stripes. What was so familiar about stripes?
He didn't know as he snarled, hands encircling her throat tightly as he squeezed.
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Jul 10, 2010 2:48:39 GMT -5
Banshee laughed. The sound died in her throat as his hands stifled it, but it remained in her gleeful, amber eyes. She swallowed hard, the column of her neck convulsing under his grasp. She locked her eyes onto his, and she brought her own hands up to grasp at his wrists.
She dug her claws into his forearms, hard enough to break skin, eyes still ablaze with fire, and madness, and lust. The dull ache of his relentless squeeze sent her synapses into overdrive. Her fucked up nerve endings sang, translating the pain and his control over her into endorphins.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Jul 10, 2010 18:39:59 GMT -5
He hissed at the pain but didn't budge at first until he released his hand more suddenly and slapped her across the face. "YOU FUCKING MONSTER!" he snarled, bringing a foot back to kick her. "YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHY THE HELL DID YOU RUIN ME? MY LIFE? OUR KITS?! YOU FUCKING CUNT!"
|
|
|
|
Post by banshee on Aug 30, 2010 21:16:14 GMT -5
Banshee laughed. It was a cold, high, soulless sound that held no joy. It was a condescending laugh, meant to infuriate him even further. She was laughing in the face of his pain, in the face of his loss. Her head snapped to the side as he slapped her, and she writhed beneath him, laughter intensifying.
She moaned as his foot connected with flesh, first with pain then satisfaction. Her voice was lower, raspier from his recent assault on her neck. "Why did I kill them?" The lie rolled so easily off her tongue. "Because they were yours, Chris." she bit out, arching in one, long, sensuous movement "Because I don't love you."
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Aug 31, 2010 21:44:55 GMT -5
Chris trembled hard. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! Shut up! Shut Up! SHUT UP!" he screamed, trying to choke her hard, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. "SHUT UP! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL SNAP YOUR NECK RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
|
|
