The rain was thick and sticky, dropping down in big fat globules and adhering to everything it touched. March was quickly becoming April, so spring was well and truly in its height. Spring rain always had a different kind of quality to it than rain in any other season, or so Myk had always thought. He had always believed that the rain felt different in every country too. Canada reminded him of his homeland, actually, even if the rain was less frequent here than in Britain. Myk remembered that there was always a distinct smell in the air when rain was imminent; a scent that made the air heavy with rust. But maybe that was a city thing, because he’d rarely had the chance to compare. When it rained in the woods, it smelt like damp bark and soggy leaves. When it rained in the countryside, it smelt like grass and mud. The mountains smelt like moss. Myk felt like autumn rain often smelt like leaves too – wherever he went and for obvious reasons – and while spring rain was heavy with iron, the scent was brief for spring rain snatched those metallic scents away and washed the world clean to make it beautiful once again.This thread is back-dated to March 25th 2016
Humans were often less appreciative of the rain than they should have been; mostly because they just didn’t like to get wet. The white-haired man who had a fancy for make-up and extravagant attires felt like he could understand that reservation too. Also, there were health issues to consider. If you end up getting caught in the rain, you’re likely to come down with something – hopefully nothing worse than the snivels, but who knew?! It was better not to risk it. That seemed to be the idea, or maybe it was one of those evolutionary principles that mankind just couldn’t shake following their descent from the trees. When Myk had been mortal, he had never been quite so self-preserving. The only thing he had ever cared about was his physical appearance because it reflected his personality, his likes, whims, desires, and philosophy. That was probably why the Telepath looked as strange and chaotic on the outside as the thoughts which passed through his mind. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t dress to suit society – Myk wore acceptable clothing, made tame wardrobe choices from time to time – he just preferred his own brand of style. He was his own fashion icon and also liked to stand out as much as possible.
Tonight was one of those times where the white-haired man had fancied dressing between the lines of fantasy and reality, male and female, as well as outrageous and normal. Strangely enough, Myk had decided to wear a long-sleeved black shirt, which clung tightly to his toned body from the very base of his throat and to his wrist bones and hips. The unusual black shirt also had unusual white flared collars and glinting silver buttons, giving the impression of a school uniform – particularly so when he had fastened a red ribbon into a bow around his neck. One could say it was a loose interpretation of the uniforms worn by the students in the Vampire Knight anime. He hadn’t necessarily done this purposefully, but once he had struck up a theme, he couldn’t very well stop. Since the red bow was very much a nod toward Yuki, a white bandana featuring red Vampire skull print designs was subsequently tied around his left bicep. Myk didn’t really fancy the idea of wearing a skirt that would barely cover his manhood – obviously not something the Vampire ladies had to deal with – so he selected a pair of black tailored shorts, wore stockings up to his knees, and sported his regular steel-capped combat boots. He wore his hair long, straight and cascading over both shoulders and down his back like a veil. He also wore a healthy dosing of mascara, framed his eyes with smoky eye-shadow, and decided that rose coloured lipstick was appropriate. That was an epic compromise, even if he did say so himself, particularly because he had nothing to do but stand outside all night long in the rain.
The canopies over the string of nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and cafes in the area provided adequate shelter from the rain. As it dappled down in great fat blobs, it gathered particularly at the corners of the canopies and dribbled off the edges like a drooling mongrel. The constant stream pounding the pavement below like a waterfall on limestone came as a distraction from his thoughts, he’d found. He wasn’t even thinking about anything in particular, but when those thoughts ground to a halt, he found himself unjustifiably annoyed. Myk took in a breath as he closed his eyes; the oxygen wasn’t needed of course, but the habit was there. The inhale of damp, sweet air was also calming. The Telepath’s shoulders slumped and his back pressed against the wall. He could stay there for hours, undisturbed, unwatched, and unwanted. Yet, the comforting, clean scent of rain was soon dominated with blood, and the soothing patter of each heavy drop was drowned out by the beating of human hearts. The Telepath finally opened his eyes to gaze out at the city, pewter orbs curious and intent on watching the mortals prance past him. He felt like a sleeping wolf in a warren. It was almost unfair, he had to move from there.
It was only moments after the Telepath had picked himself from the wall like discarded gum, that he was on the move again. There was never just one thought, one feeling, or one motivation stirring in that skull of his – much like a victim of schizophrenia would expect – but there was one element above all that was clawing to get his attention. Myk knew the sensation all too well. He had known that gut-clenching pain at the pit of his stomach for five years now. It was a type of fluid, yet solid pain, that started in his stomach and moved up his throat, gripped his teeth, and pinched his brain. Worst of all there was only one way he knew of to make that feeling go away, to make that incessant nagging stop. So he followed a pair of mortals – lovers by all accounts with the way they wrapped themselves around each other. They were likely going to the same destination given that it was still fairly early in the evening, but Myk wasn’t perturbed by the presence of another male. Besides, women weren’t exactly helpless little lambs that couldn’t defend themselves. Gender did not define who was capable of stabbing a thumb into an eye socket and popping that gelatinous ball free. Myk had much to fear from either one of them, that was, if he cared about such trivial things like fear.
The Telepath remained on the pair’s tail for a block, deciding that he would follow them to a more discreet area before making his move. Really, it would be child’s play to incapacitate the two of them at the very same instance. Myk had learned a plethora of skills to make the hunting infallible. Yet, all the skills, powers, and abilities in the world counted for nothing if the user was easily distracted. Myk was so focused on his task, to committing the plan to memory and feeling giddy at the fact that he could subdue them with such ease, that he didn’t notice the over Vampire rushing out of the club and directly into his path…
