Thread: A Soul for your Thoughts [BloodAndChocolate & DamonHuntington]

There wasnt really anything about Rowan Hart that stood out. He was attractive, but not in the way that made people look at him twice. Tall but not too tall, brunette, brown eyed, nice jawline, lean but not thin, good shoulder-to-waist ratio. Perfectly ordinary , unmemorable, normal. Like an unsuspecting car on a busy highway, he faded away into the background. He usually prefered it there. The thing is, Martin, he says, to the man sitting across from him, and then snaps his fingers and asks, Do you mind if I call you Martin? when he doesnt get a negative response, he continues with, The thing is, Im much too young to be having a midlife crisis. I mean, Im only 24. So assuming I live passed 48, this cant be a midlife crisis. Thats supposed to happen at, like, 50 right? At least, thats what all the movies say. Martin doesnt answer him, but its all as well, because Rowan is pacing at this point, rambling. Maybe its not so much a crisis, maybe Im just bored . I told myself Id never get one of those 9-5 desk jobs because Id have to throw myself off a cliff with that kind of repetition in my life. But even my current job is starting to feel repetitious, ya know? Maybe Ive gotten too good at it. Theres not a thrill any more. Its like...making a sandwich, right? Like, its a fine sandwich, whatever, but I used to really enjoy the sandwich. Its like boring sex, thats a better metaphor. I wonder how married people do it. The same fuck every damn day for the rest of their lives. Maybe if hes really good, but damn man, I just cant see it. I guess you cant understand that though, eh Marty? Still a virgin, what a shame. So I guess think about the sandwich then. Rowan stops by the open book on the table, tapping his pocket knife against his chin in thought. Did you know I was never very good at Latin? he asks. My grandmother always wanted me to learn it better. Used to smack my knuckles with a ruler. Used to tell me Rowan, if you dont learn to read it, youll never understand whats in this book. The ironic thing is, if she knew that I was using it, shed skin me alive. Good thing shes dead, I guess. Oh! He spins around again, facing Martin. Im not speaking ill of the dead! I miss her, honestly. She used to know great things about the occult. She just never wanted me getting into anything bad . But being good is so boring, ya know? And weve already talked about how much I dont like to be bored. Still, no response. Hes unbothered, and turns back to the book. The diagrams make the ritual more coherent, fill in the words that he cant understand. She was from Louisiana, my grandmother. I used to really believe in this stuff. Voodoo, the occult, anything like that, when I was a kid and she was raising me. Got a little older and thought it was bullshit. But then in college, it was like, my calling. And now? Well, hell, what can it hurt? A good bit, actually, if hes translating right. Things like cutting him in half if he does the lines wrong, or condemning him to hell if he says the words wrong. Probably shouldnt be fucking with all this Latin if youre not fluent, huh, Martin? he mutters. Maybe I should just pack it up and go home, yeah? But to what. An empty apartment, whatever free porn I can get off of Tumblr, and some instant ramen? Alright, thats melodramatic. I actually have a good porn membership. My job pays well, ya know? And the instant ramen is more of a preference choice, I can eat better, I just dont want to cook. Maybe that's my problem! Maybe its laziness! He doesnt bother looking at Martin this time, because he knows hes not going to get an answer. Instead he reads the passage he needs and lets the room lapse into silence for a moment. Finally he spins around and walks back over to his companion. You believe in God, right? What am I saying, of course you do. The whole sex after marriage thing really bit you in the ass. Think your God is proud of you for your celibacy, Marty? Think hell be ashamed of me for selling my soul for a couple of cheap tricks? Rowan grins, and tilts his head for a moment while he waits. Not gonna answer me huh? Ah well, all for the best I guess. What do you know anyway? Youre dead. Martin Stutterburgs corpse stares back at him, wide eyed with blood running down from his open mouth. Hed been a lackluster kill. Hadnt even begged for his life, just dropped to his knees and started praying. Itd made it too easy to step behind him and slit his throat. Rowan hadnt even felt a flicker of...well, anything . Anticipation, fear. Maybe a little excitement, when he saw the promise ring on the mans finger. Three virgin kills completed his circle. So now here he was, in the basement of his home with three bodies, using his fingers to paint blood around in pentagrams and runes, and now that he had the last symbol, he sat down in the middle of it with his book. On this day, Rowan Hart - hired killer, bored millennial, occultist prodigy, - was going to summon a demon, straight from hell or whatever there was beyond this world. Maybe hed ask, when the thing arrived. It was beyond the point though. The point, was that his life was missing something, and if he had to sell his soul to get a few puzzle pieces, then so be it. Hey Martin, watch this. He sent a wink the corpses way, and then began to chant.