Thread: A Vision In Blood (Miss Eleanora and Mr. Quixotic)

Ah, it was truly divine. There were few sensations that compared to the feeling of a hot shower, even if it paled itself in comparison to the feeling of hot blood spurting out onto her. The almost scalding liquid cascading down to patter against her flesh was exquisite, especially after a day and a night that had been full of frenzied activity. From the killing itself, to the frenzied ecstasy of creating her newest special piece, to the lugging a dead body around, corpses were frustratingly heavy, to the drive to the very outskirts of the city to dump the body, it had been quite the busy twenty four hours for Elizabeth. Steam billowed up, filling the glass booth in which she showered with a haze and the red haired woman broke from her reminiscing to realize that she had been in the shower for far longer than she had intended originally. Even with the faint hum of the fan trying to clear away the humidity the room beyond the glass walls was full of steam as well. Savoring one last moment of the warm pitter-patter of water against her flesh, she reached up and ran a delicate hand through her long red hair, before stretching out fully. Then with clear regret she turned the handle that would end the flow of water and opened the glass doorway. Before leaving she took the time to wring out the water from her hair and then she stepped forth into the foggy bathroom. Elizabeth reached for one of the fluffy white towels that she kept in the bathroom and began the process of drying herself. As she did so a glance at the mirror, even through the fog coaxed her into smiling. The euphoria of her last kill and creation hadn't yet faded, leaving her in a state that made everything seem so much sweeter. She took pride in her appearance, the way her slender body and gentle curves drew the gazes of men, the way she could charm them into her grasp. It was almost too easy sometimes to lure her victims to their doom. But, even without the benefit of being able to lure in those she needed to use for her creations she took pride in her ability to maintain herself. A little while later the red haired woman lounged upon her favorite chair, an old leather armchair that was nearly as old as she was, wearing a white bathrobe and with a cup of tea perched upon a saucer on the coffee table beside her. A delicate hand reached out to pick up the cup, bringing it to her lips so that she could sip at the warm liquid as she watched the coverage of the news play out, looking to see how her latest work was being taken. 'Casanova strikes again!' That was the most common tagline she saw, with the 'Vampire of New Orleans' also appearing a respectable number of times. As she watched newscasters speculate on the killer's motives and unfailingly refer to her as male, Elizabeth laughed. They were all so closed minded, thinking that this had to be the work of a gay man, that there was no other explanation. She found it amusing, but was also grateful for it, as long as the authorities were looking for a man, it was very unlikely they would ever find her. Even as she drew amusement from the inept way the authorities believed her to be a man, she found it frustrating that no one appeared to appreciate the artistic quality and symbolic nature of her works. She had seen the true essence of these men and then captured it eternally through their blood. Yet, the public couldn't seem to understand, reacting only in horror or revulsion. With a frustrated sigh Elizabeth picked up the remote and pressed the button to silence the television set as she got up from her seat. Crystalline Memories would be opening for the day soon and she had to get herself properly presentable, and she would have to give no indication that she had been awake all night. As incredibly unlikely as it was that anyone who visited her gallery would have any reason to draw any connection between her and the murder, it behooved her to appear well rested.