Thread: A Lust for Venom [Morathor x Love]

Days, months, years, decades - time didn't matter to a vampire. But to a fallen angel? Time mattered, but not as you would think it should. Angels and demons never count how old they are. They simply exist. And they continue to exist knowing that the clock is ticking, knowing that the end of the world is near, and knowing that the gavel of humanity will fall in judgement. So if you asked Skylar how old she was, she wouldn't have an honest answer to give. How can you ask Purity how old it was, or Peace, or Love? The Holy One breathed life into Skylar and she existed for a purpose an angelic soul created to uphold Faith, to serve Truth, and to battle against Evil. If you asked Skylar how old she was, she would tell you that she was one thousand four hundred and thirty seven years old. Because that is when she fell from heaven's Host of angels and began walking as a creature amongst the humans. She had done something so terribly bad that her halo had been stripped, and existing as an outcast - a fallen angel - was now her role in the universe. What did that mean? She wasn't sure, and really didn't want to know. The only thing Skylar wanted to know was how to get back into heaven and be amongst the Host once again. So for one thousand four hundred and thirty seven years she has been seeking to redeem herself by protecting the one thing that mattered most to the Holy One. Humanity. Vampire hunting had become her vocation, now. In today's world it was hard to locate a vampire, but not impossible. Supernatural creatures were forced to live undetected and unnoticed from society, and everyone - every thing - was pretty much experts at existing in secret. Skylar knew where to look, though. She had garnered quite a reputation for hunting them down. That wealthy millionaire Heath Davenport who went missing a few years ago? Well, that was Skylar's work. It would have upset the entire nation if they knew that Heath had been a vampire who had overstepped his curtesy. Daniella Lu' Reutan? Yes, Skylar came knocking on her door, too. She no longer haunts the streets of old Paris. Let's not forget Father Dean, either. The last thing that old vampire saw was Skylar's sword slicing through his neck like butter. These names are only a drop in the bucket of vampires she had traced down and executed over hundreds of years. It had become a way of life. And when a creature becomes as all-consuming and dedicated to something as Skylar was to hunting down the blood sucking bastards, knowing where to look for them was like knowing the backside of your hand. Tonight, she was on the hunt. Skylar had known about this particular vampire for hundreds of years, but hadn't really started hunting him until now. Sometimes it took her only a few days to track them down and kill them. Sometimes it took years. It all depended on how good they were in hiding, and how powerful they had made themselves. This one seemed to elude her in every possible way. By now, it was certain this vampire was aware that he had attracted a Hunter and that she was on his trail, and possibly even enjoyed a little 'cat and mouse' game to boot. He had become sloppy cleaning up after his meals, as if leaving breadcrumbs for her to follow. And that was alright by Skylar. It only made things easier for her knowing that, in the end, the cat always got her mouse. And Skylar had been playing her part as the good little kitten...waiting patiently for him to slip up, or grow tired of the heat. It was always easier to find the nesting ground of a vampire and kill the creature during the day as it slept. Did he sleep in a partying pent house? A lonely apartment? A house with a white fence? An unmarked grave? She wasn't for sure about this one. He hid is lair well. So Skylar had learned his habits his routines, methods, and routes. She knew that he favored the old, abandoned Woodsworth factory. It was 7 floors high with multiple rooms of broken equipment, shattered windows, and deserted memories for blue-collared humans. He was familiar with its shadows, and Skylar knew he had led her here for a final reckoning. She was on high alert. Stepping carefully through the 4000 sq ft plus room, her leather boots didn't make a sound, and her steady breathes were silently calm. She was not a fool, and already had her sword drawn. Experience had long ago taught her how fast the damn monsters could be - faster than the eye could compute. This is why Skylar always listened to the air, and tuned herself in to the dusty drafts of the old furniture-making factory. Her silver hair, with its length long enough to pull back into a pony tail, was the only light-hued element upon her persona aside from fair skin. Her clothes were shades of dark - from black jeans to a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Beneath her jacket was a sleeveless robe, fish-tail garment which served to conceal her sword on the streets. The fallen angel traveled light. It wasn't by fancy tools that she chose to hunt with instead, her tools were the strength of the Divine, the flight of Power, the swiftness of Mercy, and the steel of a samurai blade. The blue spheres of her eyes scanned the room from top to bottom, looking for that vampire who she knew was here. Come out, come out, come out... she taunted thoughts in her mind. Let's find out how well you can dance.