Cannibal's kiss (( Hannibal X OOC))

Unfortunate beginnings

                  The night's air was thick with moisture from a previous rainfall only heightened by the warmth now hidden under a blanket of night. Settling a thin mist over the small city and coating over the city streets packed with trash but rather empty given the time of night. Only illuminated by the tall lanterns providing a little shelter of light through the mist. There, shadowed against the dull amber glow of the streetlights and milky moonlight were three silhouettes of people. Only one standing, a woman with a curvy figure, slender but with considerable assets and slightly hunched over standing above the twitching body of a man. Clenched within her tightened fist on her right hand,once  reddened knuckles were now white as snow  from the pressure and effort against the coarse plastic knife handle. Towards the end was a silver blade clean and waxed to a fault now tainted at the carefully sharpened tip with a fresh splatter of crimson blood now dripping down onto the black pavement. There beneath her was a man adorned in all grey clothing a mask once covering the bottom part of his face torn off violently and tossed to the side haphazardly in a lump. His gloved hands clenched over a fresh wound that punctured his neck. Clean but sloppy from an inexperienced and angry killer, in his desperation to stop the flow his hands clenched down and slipped ripping away loose layers of flesh and awarding a pained groan almost muffled in the gargled choking gasps that push past his parted thin lips now coated in his own blood. From the part in his arms exposed the open slash wound which geyser-ed up a spring of liquid and hit her in the cheek.  She didn't react.. just watched. As the man jerked and groaned in agony unable to express the pain but the desperate dilatation of his black pupils catching the soft milky moonlight  held the expression of a dying man trying to stall for more time. His legs twitched and kicked in spasms of pain and fear and the strong odor of urine mixed with metallic blood grew stronger with his struggles. And all at once, they stopped. The man stilled his eyes once primalistic and wide with fear coated over in a glazed layer and slid to the side where his face met the concrete. Gazing into the eternal nothingness that was death. What he saw, was a mystery, but she knew it was not contained in this world. The grunts and gasps coming from him now silent and drowned out by the rapid rise and fall of her own heart and blood flow pounding in her ears. And the woman gazed down at her palms twisting them upwards and hardly acknowledging the drop of her knife instead staring at her own blood soaked hands. No longer pale just a crimson color and pressing together the edges made a small pool of the red liquid towards the center of her palms. It rippled but was a tad thicker then water. Showing a distorted image of the woman which seemed to shift and sway with the small waves until it reached the brink of the pool and dissipated only to be replaced by more. The simple beauty of the action took away from the pain and truth of the world. And she stood in the middle of this horrific scene unaware of the deep stab wound on her shoulder and the death by her own hands of this stranger.. only being drawn out of the daze and rush of Adenline by a small gasp and a huff of pain. Far more gentle then the man's and less hoarse. This was the voice of a child now crumpled in the street and all she could think was this child's name as tears rolled down her blood soaked cheeks.. Lyla. 

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                     Hope Redwell jerked up from the soft cushioning mattress of the bed almost falling off the side of the mattress from such a swift motion and a stinging pain rolled up her spine to her neck. Not bad, just a general soreness from restless night of tossing and turning. Every night these memories resurfaced in horrifyingly accurate detail. The pain almost seeming real and the damp feeling of mist on the back of her neck or the wet thick feeling of the stranger's blood rolling off her fingers to the ground in a splatter. What was it now? Two years since that night... when her and her foster sister Lyla was attacked in the streets.. Two years since killing that man and Lyla.. being in a coma. She shook her head, shaking free strands of light ginger hair the same color as fire just below the tips of the flame. Not incredibly darkened or bright but still quite a beautiful hue but her hair not being the most unique thing about her. No, it was her eyes, one the color of sapphires with the a flicker of pale blue around the pupil and the other was a dark chestnut a few shades lighter than the black at the center of her eyes. Heterochromia, something she inherited at birth similar to her mother whose eyes were different but not as drastically. With one eye being a caramel brown and the other hazel the difference was there but hard to spot unless you stared into them for quite a while.