Author Games: Empty Night

Task Four Entries

Mal Lilystone

Mal drew a deep breath into her lungs: fulfilling her desire for oxygen even though her true desire was to hold it in her body until she had died for the last time. Not that she was suicidal or depressed, but because life was just so fucking boring.

Humans were all the same. Others all pretended they were different and unique; not that any of them would ever know the meaning of the word anyways.

She reached a hand up and knocked on the ornate wooden door perched at the front of the homestead of the Fallen. She didn't know his name and she didn't really have a necessity to know it to get what she needed.

"Who sent you here?" a voice asked softly; a gentle, lulling whisper pushed through the slats of the door and forced into her head. At first, she wasn't quite sure that she had heard it in the first place.

"I am here to speak to you," she replied smoothly; her own voice a calming stroke of a clocktower reminding her that she's still alive. She knew very little about this man, save for the fact that insanity was a dear friend of his and was afraid that she did not know how to handle him.

Sure, her friend Leo had been a little insane at times but she had never really known him to be the sporadic kind and had never seen him at his worst times. He had made sure of that. Maybe he found it as some sort of protection; in the particular instance, Mal had found it as a curse.

Not all crazy is the same, Mal, you'd do good to remember that. We are all insane in some aspects, and we are all not the same in these ways. Vlad's voice ricocheted in her skull, carving cavernous coffins into the one thing protecting her brain from being turned to mush.

"What do you want?" his voice was airy, afraid, and a light song carried away by the nighttime breeze.

"I hear you have a specific dagger," Mal brought this to his attention; watching and listening carefully for how he'd react. If she could figure out his ticks, she could figure out how to use them to her advantage.

"Oh? You mean... this dagger?" the door was swung open and the Fallen stepped out into the bask of the moonlight. He had hair the color of a raven's feathers and it was perfectly coiffed so that his bright green eyes clashed with it. He brought the point of the dagger up so that it flashed a small sliver of light into Mal's eyes and it nearly blinded her. She held back the urge to grimace and gave him a gentle smile.

"Exactly! That dagger!" she exclaimed, using all of her energy to feign surprise. His handsome features curved into giddy excitement and he pushed the tip of the dagger into her cheek; painting a splatter of blood on the edge of the blade.

"It's a pretty dagger, isn't it? I've been playing with it all morning," he smiled deviously; a wild look passing onto his face and contorting his features into something sinister. She could see his desire to spill her blood written on his face like he wore a novel that he wanted the entire world to be blessed with an opportunity to read.

"It's beautiful, just like you," she coated on her sugary sweetness and coaxed his ego into a calm state.

"I am beautiful, aren't I? A vision that would inspire so many masterpieces should I ever be in the presence of an artist," he smiled to himself and brought the dagger in front of his face so he could regard his features in the blade. Mal tried to suppress the urge to roll her eyes, but lost to her instincts. Luckily the Fallen was far too interested in his own image to notice.