Thread: Dresses and Derangement (Shikokudarkstar & Charlie_Death)

It was one of those few moments where the noise in Thorben's mind is lowered and he has some room to think. No anger or impulses boiling underneath, his inner demons satisfied with the sacrifice in the alleyway. The night at the corner club was uneventful, no mistakes or breakage of etiquette. It was perhaps the closest thing to happiness the man ever experienced, the was neither angry at someone or filled with disgust. To say he was feeling anything other than satisfied on the mild high of his previous kill would be erroneous. Thorben has never felt many emotions other than anger and an impulse that he was only able to control by adhering to rules of etiquette to an extreme. However, this stillness was only to be short lived. He had planned to go home and possibly finish reading a book he had bought months ago. He hadn't the chance to have his mind clear enough to focus on anything other than his next victim. He had paid the stumbling man no attention, an error he would come to regret when he slammed into him. Never in all the years he was living in England had he suffered such injustice! Not even when he was abandoned with not a ha'penny to his name had he been tossed to the ground and spoken to as such. The smallest of things set him off and this was the equivalent to a hundred thousand cannons firing upon him. For a moment he could not react but sit in shock at such a blunder but the moment the vagrant suggested that he, Thorben Strand, would lie with some diseased strumpet! The demons roared back to life and his mind clouded over in the ever present storm of his own insanity. He was about to verbally reprimand the drunkard had the other not shocked him once more. Vomiting! In public! And on his impeccable trousers no less! Thorben could not move or speak but sit there trembling. Anger pulsing through his veins like molten metal. The only emotion he ever truly felt, and never to such degrees! No prostitute nor blunder could cause such a tremendous reaction. Thorben felt his face grow hot, chest tighten as his heart pounded heavily and every muscle in his body tremble with the urge to beat the man to death in the street. If it wasn't for etiquette he probably would. Through the anger he had bitten his lip but had too much adrenaline running through him to even feel it, or register the droplet of blood that trailed down his chin. He shot up to his feet and brushed as much of the vomit off with the rag, humiliated further to just hold the horrid garment of poor fabric quality. It was all beneath him, everything was beneath him. Everything but one thing and that was what was going through his mind. I am going to murder him. Thorben rushed home as soon as he could taking alleyways and any road that had the fewest pedestrians. He had not even realized that the coat was still in his hand. He tossed it out and cleaned up. He was tempted to go and find the man that night but he was too flustered, too angry. He needed to get a grip otherwise he may make a mistake and finally be caught by the authorities. The thought of prison wasn't what frightened him, it was the risk of being locked up in Broadmoor. He willed himself to remain home and wait until the morning. It wasn't until later in the evening a couple days later that he discovered where the man lived and had found a way to hide into the house. There were a number of women who seemed to visit the place often. And this was the man who insinuated that he slept with harlots when the hypocrite had them visiting his place often. Or was this a brothel? He had recognized a few of the girls as he made his third pass of the man's residence. One he hasn't seen working the streets for a while and had nearly forgotten about. Thorben had to wait outside in an alley longer than anyone else to make sure that no one would see him sneak in, but it was worth it. He chose to hide in the man's room and kill him in his own bed. Smother with a pillow and make it clean? Or should he just bash him to death and let someone find him? So many possibilities. Thorben paced the room waiting, looking at the man's belongings to see if there is anything valuable he would really want. However when he opened the wardrobe he immediately shut it feeling a wave of humiliation wash over him. He opened it again slowly to be sure that what he saw was right. Instead of various pants and shirts as what one would expect from a man's wardrobe, there were various gowns of fair quality. Of course there was a couple pieces of male clothing but mostly female. Was he mistaken? Had he breached etiquette by stowing away into a woman's bed chamber? He shut it quietly and stepped behind the door, the only place he could hide as well as debate on searching other rooms for the vagrant's. However those poor quality clothes of his were unmistakable. Was he married? No woman should be burdened with such husband, or was she as bad as he is? In hearing footsteps approach the room Thorben pulled out a knife from his coat. He would just have to kill him quick and quietly so he can leave before the Missus returns. As a figure entered the room Thorben pulled out his knife and was about to grab the man from behind, or rather he was if he wasn't shocked again for the second time. He stood stiff in his place behind the door against the wall, knife in hand as a woman walked in ever so eligantly. He had gotten the wrong room! He had breached all etiquette but entering unannounced and introduced into a woman's bed chamber! He tucked the knife behind him and found himself caught as the woman stared back at him. He had only been caught once and had promptly murdered the one who had discovered him over the body, however he found himself frozen. Perhaps it was because he was staring at a woman's attire including unmentionables only moments prior or perhaps it was because this was the same woman he had seen days ago when he was rid the world of another whore. Many apologies, madame. Thorben removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. I seem to have gotten the wrong house. I was expecting a man, or rather... I am expected to meet with... He stiffened and stared at the window. I will see myself out. He stepped around her and opened the window with his empty hand before turning around as he tucked his blade away. I would never, under any circumstances enter a woman's room intentionally. Please, don't notify anyone I was here. He turned away and climbed out the window tipping his had awkwardly at the woman as he dropped down. He was so out of it, mind spinning on his sudden breach of etiquette and the rules he follows that he had not registered anything she had even said and spent a few moments just standing under the streetlight, ignoring the rain that started before slowly walking home letting everything sink in uneasily. He had never screwed up so much and he had left through the window only because he could not be escorted out of the door because he wasn't invited. Yet using the window to exit in the presence of a lady! Such a scandal! Yet that wasn't the only thing that really struck with him as he made his way home. It was how his heart raced when he was discovered. It was almost exactly like what he felt when that vagrant had humiliated him and for a brief moment he had thought it was the man but instead it was a woman. Now he was sure it was still pounding because of the humiliation he had put upon himself, not of that man. He was still going to kill him, but now he was going to make sure he got the right house. That is, after he figures out how to repair the major breach he had just committed.