Thread: ✗ ✘ øυϯ øƒ cøηϯяøℓ ✘ ✗ [Viktoff Samson & SoTheySay]

For some, lying in bed would be the easiest part of their morning. The comfort and the warmth would grow difficult to resist as it was common to just roll back over and fall back to sleep. Forget work, the kids, eating, friends. There's always tomorrow! This wasn't the reality to be experienced by one particular ghoul in Tokyo. Pale arms cross over a fit young man's chest, ash-like hair falls over his tightly shut eyes as his breaths grow deep and ragged. The pain was unlike anything he's experienced in battle before. The best way to describe it would go along the lines of a thousand little hands peeling his throbbing body into a million parts and then building him back up like a pile of meat with paper skin. Though his resistance to this agony was lowest in the morning, he wouldn't scream or sob. If he were to awaken the feeble humans who also live in this apartment building, he'd be kicked out onto the street. This pain won't stop haunting his body until he claims a mouthful of juicy, chewy human. Or maybe two. But, once the dam breaks... Sitting up, his monsterous eyes darted about the dark room. His instincts were firing, his heart racing. If there had been another waiting for him to wake up, he probably would have been on the offensive almost instantly. There were a number of reasons an enemy would happen to be in his room at any given time, though they'd have to figure out where he was first. His crazy fanatic family was very likely to seek him out and make his life hell until he returns home. The ghoul investigators would attempt to purge him the moment they caught his foul scent. Even the current group he's working for could lose their faith in him and send a well-fed ghoul assassin his way to clean up this loose end. He's even heard of human groups trying to purge a ghoul they happen upon by lighting them on fire in their sleep. Ghouls aren't Vampires. Of course, these uneducated guess-work attempts at killing ghouls without the proper weaponry failed. Not that this particular ghoul had any empathy to give to his fellow ghouls who lost their lives fighting each other or the investigators. They were foolish, and so was he. The sun light finally peered over the neighboring building to brighten his bedroom. It wasn't a large room, but it did look both clean and inviting. His bed was wrapped in grey blankets and white sheets with black pillows at the top. The most notable detail of the bed was how it was barely a foot off the ground. An almost orange gloss wooden floor expanded a few feet to the wall on each side of the bed and it was about five feet from the door while the head of the bed rest against a wall. To the ashy haired male's right, the window ushered in a poor angle of the flashy Tokyo city. On his left, the closet containing his clothes and marble topped bench holding his coffee pot decorated the wall. The timer set on his coffee pot was set for midnight, the glass of the pot revealed twelve cups of dark liquid goodness. A singular red light on the side of the pot was the only way to tell if it had remained on all this time, keeping the coffee hot. This wouldn't be cafe-quality coffee, but it was hard for him to afford a great cup and he didn't enjoy the social scene that Tokyo provided. Not to mention all the the negative events that could occur if someone recognized him. To this thought, he was reminded of his phone. Though he was sleeping naked, he didn't even feel it through the sweat that accumulated even through the heat pump that conditioned the air to a nice low temp. In his hands, the phone wouldn't seem to be all that much bigger than the average Android high-end device. However, it was actually almost a mini-tablet. The thick black case covering the back didn't help it's profile become anymore sleek either. Of course, if the screen protector wasn't both expensive and meshed into the case to make the phone almost submerged-in-saltwater-proof, then he'd probably would have ruined the thing long ago. His thumb ran along the screen as the sound of a lock clicking open was played. He wouldn't open his favorite game or check the website he got all of his requests from until he could snag a cup of coffee too drink. For most, standing naked in a room was embarrasing, even in their own house. This ghoul lacked that feeling as he climbed to his feet with his phone and his manhood freely dangled about, the coolness of the room multiplied by the moisture across his bare form. He'd have to take a shower. Of course, he couldn't snag a big brown coffee mug and pour the liquid caffiene transfer method of choice before he'd recieve a text. This was strange, and made him pause even as he had the brown cup inches off the hanger that was it's home. Setting the cup down upside down, he'd turn away and read the text message. Jackal? It read, but as soon as he read that line another one followed. No, Ishine. Ishine Fudo? This part would make him sigh as this stranger not only had his number, but knew both his old alias and full legal name. This wasn't a calming thought. Either he responded now to try and figure who this was, while simultaneously confirming they knew who he was. Or, he could ignore it. Neither were great options. Clearly this person wasn't a friend, they'd know he prefers Shin as a nickname and that there were a few more official wats of contacting him that would make identifying this other person wa whole lot easier. As it stands now, either his number was figured out by an invesigator, a ghoul, or a very curious human. Again, none of the above were relaxing ideas. Turning back to the coffee maker, he flipped the brown mug onto it's bottom and quickly filled it a good respectable way up. A small white pouch sat near the coffee maker. The strong stench of iron flowed from this pouch, and it as accompanied by a meaty taste in the air that any other ghoul would pick up in a heartbeat. Breaking his eyes away from the pouch, Shin would pick up his cup and leave the room. In a matter of almost no time at all, the clean and handsome male was wearing his prefered outfit. Ash hair flowed down to his shoulders as he wore a white t-shirt and black jacket. The top of the jacket had fluffy black featherlike decoration around his collar and in it's hoodie which would rest at his back. Almost like clown pants, he wore these black and red checkered shorts, the design of which slanted so the squars would appear like diamonds. On his feet, to match his big hands would be a large pair of read sneakers, further adding to his almost clown-like appearence. In truth, Shin just liked the colors and the way they clothes fit. His belt had a skull buckle and what would be visible of his legs beneath his knees were covered by black satin socks. He was almost ready to do his ritualistic remedy that would make his eyes behave themselves normally when he caught the sound of someone in trouble. Of course it would be very human to rush to their rescue or call an emergency number. Instead, Shin made his way to a window and tried his best to scan the area from the main room of his apartment. Although running right outside like this was a huge risk, Shin was gradually growing more empathetic on his diet. In almost no time at all, Shin's window was open and he fell to the alley over ten feet below. Vanishing at top speed, he kept to the shadows between buildings on his way towards the smell and sounds that attracted him so. In truth, his mind was dancing between hero mode and disgusting binge eater mode. IF this was a human fleeing the police who was shot up for being aggressive, why couldn't he pop some fingers into their skin and carve out a meal for himself? No. Shin had to fight that feeling. In his rush, and the foggy mind state that a starved ghoul just can't escape, Shin forgot his quinque steel Machete in the apartment. Without it, his inability of using his Kagune in this starved state will make him a sitting duck versus strong opponents. Luckily, he'd have just enough strength to be a threat if his opponent was young, human and completely inexperienced. The scent would capture him as he grew within a short distance of the source. In a blink, he'd be standing before her. A woman covered in blood with a singular ghoulish eye. A one-eyed ghoul? He'd whisper into the wind as if he wasn't even talking to her, though he was sure she'd hear it. His red and black eyes ran down her body before focusing back on her blue human eye. What was going on here? What's wrong? He'd finally ask her, tilting his head, almost in awe. Not having a good time? He'd muse before quickly finding his frown. No, of course not. Is all of that blood your own? He'd sound worried, almost like a father figure- But, not quite. he couldn't pull an authority role off well enough in his incredibly fuckable form he'd have now. He was too young for it, though his strong features would insist that with a decade or two, he'd grow to be a respectable manly man. Getting to his knees and crawling toward her such that his face would be near her own, he'd eye her over again. I'm not here to hurt you, don't fight me. This time, his voice was very different, almost a low growl. As if he were a grown manly dog and she was just a pup. The tone insisted that she not flash her fangs or go for a bite. He slowly looked around her head without touching her. You weren't in a fight at all. Someone did this to you, I can tell. He whispered before pulling back and standing up. Out of breath, ragged and torn. Clearly not the clothing you would have chosen to wear, most respectable young women don't particularly enjoy putting their black cotton panties on display. He'd mumble this almost as if he were sherlock and she was a body the local police discovered. Embarrasing details and clues rattled off so matter of factly. Alright. I get it. But, if ghouls are after you... or investigators, I can't be of much help out here in the open.