Eight Legs Through the Wall: Prologue

A series of murders currently occurring are the least of the worries of the law enforcers of the Imperial City. The serial murders are about to become the main worries of the tall woman walking through the streets as the sun rises. She's probably coming from a lover's hive, her life really just beginning to take off.

When she rounds the corner, she doesn't know she's being followed. She's a young red-blooded woman, horns straight and vertical, barely old enough to have an Ascension Name. The dark safety of the night is creeping away to the large hours of the morning, and the rust-blood doesn't know how tragically mundane her story will be by tomorrow night.

She doesn't notice as the shadows move to follow her. She doesn't notice as they seem to melt along the walls as they round the street to her hive. She doesn't notice as the oily shadows slide in behind her open door. She doesn't notice as they make their way to her bedroom of their own accord. She doesn't notice them as she takes off her clothes and slides into her recuperacoon.

She notices when he drags her out, cold hands reaching into the slime. She feels it when he wraps his hands around her throat, searing her with the foreign touch. She sees the insane glint in their eyes and the curvature of his horns. The hard, cold hands burning against her skin, the cold knife pressing against the her stomach.

The knife buries itself in her abdomen, making a home in her convulsing body. She watches it as her carves her front, shock receding to terror. Her screams are silent and quick, smothered and gathered with his hands for his own personal use. Smiling, he drags the knife along the corners of her mouth, her silent screams seeping through and gaining sonority. Watery red tears slide down her face as she gives an expanding smile, her screams reach such a pitch to no longer be heard but felt, shaking his bones in his favorite way.

He holds her gently in her last moments, shooshing the dwindling whimpers and whines still leaking from her broken mouth. Her blood leaks out, covering everything in red, red, red . Her body was his canvas and she was his masterpiece, free to dress her in his favourite colour.

He sets to work.

He smiles at her body, content with his work. Her long hair no longer attached at the root has been cut away and placed around her head, framing her lovely, awful smile. The halo of her hair makes her more beautiful now than when she was still breathing, still screaming. He loves everything about lowbloods, from their warm, soft, bodies, to their lovely colour, to their large horns, so prominent and perfect.

He loves how breakable they are.

He loves how beautifully they wear death.

Okay, this is an AU and I'm assuming you read the info thing and know the gist of it. Continue to the next chapter, it'll have an archive of our own slot by the 20th of october, 2012 and its tumblr url is solarstuck. It also has pictures on ao3.