Setting
Only the vases of dead flowers...
The dusty paintings of unnerving figures,
Ever-watching eyes...
And of course, the occasional prowler...
Could help you on your way to your destination..
- GUEST ROOMS
- RESIDENTIAL CHAMBERS
- AKIO'S LAB
- LIBRARY
"I trust you infinitely, else you would not have been bestowed this honor. You are no hero, and your killing is as spontaneous as your cravings for life. Feel free to continue your," She flailed an arm, "Art, in fact, continue it more and invite us all along. Let us drain the bodies as they drip, you can paint with their brains for all I care!"
She turned on her heel, marching further down the hall and around another corner.
"Besides, I can guarantee your new friend will enjoy the screams just as much as you do."
He was hissing his words more than speaking them, with his fingers clenched and held so close to his side, where the kitchen knife was kept...
"And if I die," She said, smile growing wider, "You die."
Daemala knocked on the door.
He waited for whoever, or whatever was on the other side of the door.
With that, she sauntered off down the hallway. A door could be heard slammed moments later, followed by muffled maniacal laughter.
"When these," He bared his teeth revealing that they were all in fact sharp, "Work more." Retreating from the door and into the darkness of the room, Ubarum left the door ajar. "Enter. I have inquiries."
"What is it?" He asked, standing just inside the door.
"Blood, screams. Chaos. Where?"
"Where. Outside," He kicked the knife, sending it to stick in the wall somewhere wth a twanging thud.
He seemed to have settled with something, a house robe. Pulling it on and tying the belt, he shot a menacing look at the Harlequin.
"Work?" Could he wear this in public? Was this the way the people dressed nowadays?
He chose to hid in a chair facing away from the door, one that was large enough to hide his frame, but casual enough to look like he was simply relaxing, not hiding at all, if he got caught.
"I scent you," Ubarum growled, clawing towards the chair, doing his best to tame his inner beast, "Hiding with fear and deception."
Ubarum came upon the chair, gripping the corner and tearing the fabric. At least he didn't break the chair.
Harlequin
Each word into his sentence turned more and more into a hiss.
"I should kill Daemala for this prank. I'll hang her entrails on my Christmas tree."
At this Ubarum whirled, whipping his robe rope as an accent. Then he glanced over his shoulder, looking pained, "How they do?"
He ran his finger along dust, then placed what he had wiped away to the very tip of his tongue. Someone had been killed in this room, and it sent shivers up his spine... The type of shivers he liked.
"Get out. This is my room."