It has been years since the young assassin had seen his old friend. Years since he’d gotten a trace of him. It had torn the younger apart, years ago when the elder had parted ways with his young companion. For a /human/. The lowest of the low. All because they found /love/. If that wasn’t the pinnacle of bull, then Aoi hadn’t known what was anymore. It was until recent months that he had found that exact person. A surprise really, as he’d spotted them while on a mission. Honestly, it’d taken every thing in him not to abandon the mission for a moment so he could ing yell and scream at that damned vampire but—
He didn’t. And that’s how it lead to this very moment.
Aoi had a simple plan really. Create a crime and make the human morons think that there were some motive behind it. And it worked, singling out the one that he truly needed to notice.
He were quite surprised to say the least. This old friend must of known already to come alone like this, why would Aoi expect anything less from an old clan leader?
“I see you’re still as sharp as you used to be…” A voice echoed out. The shadows below the other vampire began to widen, waving as if it were an optical illusion. Soon, the crown of the assassin’s head surfaced from the shadows, slowly rising up from the empty pit until his full body were on the surface. Aoi’s eyes were glowing, skin that were exposed splotched with blood here and there, some still on his mouth.
“Rather surprised that those humans haven’t rotted your brain yet…” Aoi’s nose scrunched, displeased. “You smell exactly like them…”
there was a chilling sense of dread in the air. whether it be from the chill of autumn springing upon the city with barely the fog of his breath escaping past plush tiers; the breath of the wind sweeping through the midnight locks of the amarante vampire's hair; or the scent of the full moon waning over the blood soaked streets housing the howls of the dead--syrinx was sure of one thing.
he was too old for this.
what began three days ago with homicide had eventually led up to syrinx stalking the streets. homicide so clean and precise with nothing but a single step. a step out of line that had been smeared within a sangria of blood that otherwise would've marked a clean kill. an all too effortlessly clean kill of someone who had trained to become the best of the best.
following the trail that led back to the assassin syrinx once knew, the vampire toyed with the ring he had tied to his neck by a silver chain. the crimson ruby glinting just momentarily under the light of the moon before the clouds fogged over the night--and so there he sat, the officer waiting upon the rooftops in hopes of catching the familiar assassin within his act.
