邑輝 一貴 Muraki Kazutaka (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lamorteblanc) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 11:52 pm
lamorteblanc) wrote in caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 11:52 pm
Entry tags:
[ .dream] | 003. The hunter becomes the hunted
The graveyard he finds himself in is quiet, muted in its palette of greys and blacks. Around him, the graves are unmarked: silent sentries of chipped granite poking out amidst fallen leaves. Kazutaka wanders amongst them, aimless as his fingers drift over the stones.
And then he hears them.
Off in the distance, they come. Barking, howling, baying at the moon which has turned blood red as it rises into the sky. He sees them as they approach but these are no ordinary wolves. These are misshapen creatures in the shapes of wolves: an ear is torn and nothing more than severed flesh coming from its skull, one in a deep state of decomposition, some are missing patches of their fur and reveal slickened pink flesh filthy with mange beneath. They snap their jaws as they run toward him, hungered and manic.
So he runs.
He runs from those wolves as fast as his constitution can allow. No matter how fast he runs however, they come close and nip at his heels. Always a breath away, an inch away. As he runs, the voices begin. They are varied as they are many, disembodied and rising from the dark forest that seems to surround them. But there are two that stand out from the chaos.
"You were always the pride of my collection, Kazutaka."
A woman's voice, gentle and suffocating.
"What are you going to do? Run and tell on me?"
A male teen's, mocking and condescending.
He stumbles into the forest now, hoping to lose his monstrous attackers in the thicket. Under his feet, the roots seem to aim to trip him. Branches attempt to ensnare him. However, he pushes on through the darkness with the wolves still a mere heartbeat away.
"As beautiful as any doll."
"She's too good for the likes of you."
And as he runs, the deeper he goes into the forest, the louder the voices get. Not only these two but several others. Most women, one other distinct male.
"You mustn't love Veronica more than I, Kazutaka. I shall be very cross."
"Freak. Don't look at me with those eyes, you freak.
The wolves come closer. He can feel their breath near him, he can hear their snarls almost as if they were growling straight into his ear. Around him, the forest echoes with screams, protests.
"NO! GET AWAY!"
A young lady this time.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
Another woman, distinct from the first and third.
Screaming.
Panicked. Animal-like. Ragged and raw.
Screaming.
Protesting.
The screams of what seem to be a young boy.
Then suddenly a sharp pain. One of the wolves overtakes him, sinking its yellowed teeth into his leg. With a cry, he pitches forward and falls into the leaves. The others follow, only drawn closer by the scent of his blood which begins to seep into his pants from where the first bite. They draw no quarter and are as merciless as any animal is: they rip into his flesh, drawing blood and cloth and tendon and muscle from his form as he struggles to break free. Kazutaka reaches out, a futile effort as rabid canines rip into his arms as well. His own screams are silenced among the voices that seem to come from the shadows surrounding him and those monsters.
His eyes close, another effort to block out the pain and bring a quicker death.
But when he opens his eyes, he finds himself whole again. There is a moment of shock as he takes it in, glad to find his legs are returned to him and the wolves are nowhere to be seen. The sound of water comes near his head and it draws his attention as he staggers up and onto his shaky legs. However, when he turns his eyes downward, he finds his perfectly white clothing stained with flecks of red.
Blood.
Over his chest, his sleeves, his arms, dripping wet from his hands.
He tries to run them under the tap but to no avail. They remain as they are, bloodstained and shaking under the water. Nothing can wash them, nothing can clean the stains.
As he pulls himself to his feet, he chances upon a blood trail from where he stands. A few steps away is the prone body of a young lady clad in a simple yukata. He approaches, fear evident on his features as he kneels by the body and takes it into his arms. She's as bloodsoaked as he is, most coming from what appears to be a large stab wound right through her clothing. A scalpel lies nearby, its handle as bloodstained as his hands.
And he holds her to his chest, trembling as he does.
From his lips, one name falls in a whisper.
"Ukiyou."
---
He awakes thanks to the thump of a rather large volume from his hand to the ground. Once again, Kazutaka's fallen asleep in his armchair by the window. The dreamberry blinks from his desk and he barely glances at it as he reaches for his glasses. There's a frown however as he places the fallen book back on his desk and shuts the feed off.
[ OOC: actionspam please? ;;; ]
And then he hears them.
Off in the distance, they come. Barking, howling, baying at the moon which has turned blood red as it rises into the sky. He sees them as they approach but these are no ordinary wolves. These are misshapen creatures in the shapes of wolves: an ear is torn and nothing more than severed flesh coming from its skull, one in a deep state of decomposition, some are missing patches of their fur and reveal slickened pink flesh filthy with mange beneath. They snap their jaws as they run toward him, hungered and manic.
So he runs.
He runs from those wolves as fast as his constitution can allow. No matter how fast he runs however, they come close and nip at his heels. Always a breath away, an inch away. As he runs, the voices begin. They are varied as they are many, disembodied and rising from the dark forest that seems to surround them. But there are two that stand out from the chaos.
"You were always the pride of my collection, Kazutaka."
A woman's voice, gentle and suffocating.
"What are you going to do? Run and tell on me?"
A male teen's, mocking and condescending.
He stumbles into the forest now, hoping to lose his monstrous attackers in the thicket. Under his feet, the roots seem to aim to trip him. Branches attempt to ensnare him. However, he pushes on through the darkness with the wolves still a mere heartbeat away.
"As beautiful as any doll."
"She's too good for the likes of you."
And as he runs, the deeper he goes into the forest, the louder the voices get. Not only these two but several others. Most women, one other distinct male.
"You mustn't love Veronica more than I, Kazutaka. I shall be very cross."
"Freak. Don't look at me with those eyes, you freak.
The wolves come closer. He can feel their breath near him, he can hear their snarls almost as if they were growling straight into his ear. Around him, the forest echoes with screams, protests.
"NO! GET AWAY!"
A young lady this time.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
Another woman, distinct from the first and third.
Screaming.
Panicked. Animal-like. Ragged and raw.
Screaming.
Protesting.
The screams of what seem to be a young boy.
Then suddenly a sharp pain. One of the wolves overtakes him, sinking its yellowed teeth into his leg. With a cry, he pitches forward and falls into the leaves. The others follow, only drawn closer by the scent of his blood which begins to seep into his pants from where the first bite. They draw no quarter and are as merciless as any animal is: they rip into his flesh, drawing blood and cloth and tendon and muscle from his form as he struggles to break free. Kazutaka reaches out, a futile effort as rabid canines rip into his arms as well. His own screams are silenced among the voices that seem to come from the shadows surrounding him and those monsters.
His eyes close, another effort to block out the pain and bring a quicker death.
But when he opens his eyes, he finds himself whole again. There is a moment of shock as he takes it in, glad to find his legs are returned to him and the wolves are nowhere to be seen. The sound of water comes near his head and it draws his attention as he staggers up and onto his shaky legs. However, when he turns his eyes downward, he finds his perfectly white clothing stained with flecks of red.
Blood.
Over his chest, his sleeves, his arms, dripping wet from his hands.
He tries to run them under the tap but to no avail. They remain as they are, bloodstained and shaking under the water. Nothing can wash them, nothing can clean the stains.
As he pulls himself to his feet, he chances upon a blood trail from where he stands. A few steps away is the prone body of a young lady clad in a simple yukata. He approaches, fear evident on his features as he kneels by the body and takes it into his arms. She's as bloodsoaked as he is, most coming from what appears to be a large stab wound right through her clothing. A scalpel lies nearby, its handle as bloodstained as his hands.
And he holds her to his chest, trembling as he does.
From his lips, one name falls in a whisper.
"Ukiyou."
---
He awakes thanks to the thump of a rather large volume from his hand to the ground. Once again, Kazutaka's fallen asleep in his armchair by the window. The dreamberry blinks from his desk and he barely glances at it as he reaches for his glasses. There's a frown however as he places the fallen book back on his desk and shuts the feed off.
[ OOC: actionspam please? ;;; ]
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