Stocke has to wait for night to keep chasing down his target. It's a fact of life, like humans are unable to pass through walls; still, sometimes Stocke thinks he understands how limited the poor things feel. The vengeance he's been sold itches at him, and if he doesn't get to it in time...
Still, the shade must admit: constrained as being solid feels, it has its uses. Say, climbing a height he can't levitate up, even if he needs to make himself thick claws to match up to the rock wall. He looks up, eyes narrowed; nearly there, and the rock ledge above's shielding him from the remnants of light in the sky.
(...yeah, alright, maybe he hadn't been able to wait all the way up to nightfall. It's better than losing a vengeance he's been sold.)
Stocke heaves himself over the edge - and immediately finds himself face-to-face with a human. 'Target' peals in his head; the shade jerks into his true form, looming over the man, and hisses softly. Then he pauses, taking a second look.
Slowly, the tendrils at his back start to lash back and forth. Stocke yanks his static down into the awkward chords of human speech. He's almost incongruously relaxed when he remarks, "Looks like I'm fashionably late," but there's venom hidden in it.
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Date: 2016-06-28 03:42 am (UTC)From:Still, the shade must admit: constrained as being solid feels, it has its uses. Say, climbing a height he can't levitate up, even if he needs to make himself thick claws to match up to the rock wall. He looks up, eyes narrowed; nearly there, and the rock ledge above's shielding him from the remnants of light in the sky.
(...yeah, alright, maybe he hadn't been able to wait all the way up to nightfall. It's better than losing a vengeance he's been sold.)
Stocke heaves himself over the edge - and immediately finds himself face-to-face with a human. 'Target' peals in his head; the shade jerks into his true form, looming over the man, and hisses softly. Then he pauses, taking a second look.
Slowly, the tendrils at his back start to lash back and forth. Stocke yanks his static down into the awkward chords of human speech. He's almost incongruously relaxed when he remarks, "Looks like I'm fashionably late," but there's venom hidden in it.