Nightshift 37: Soccer/Recreational Field

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

[from here.]

Since the recreational field was quiet tonight, Phoenix found himself pausing briefly between doors, glancing up at the sky. It was what the sky looked like on television, pitch blackness interrupted by bright points of starlight, which was what really made him stop in the first place, really. He'd spent his entire life in Los Angeles. He didn't expect anything from the night sky but a dark, dusky rose, dotted with perhaps five valiant stars, assorted satellites, and the blinking slow-motion of airplanes coming and going from LAX. Seeing the sky the way he'd always known it was supposed to look pulled at him strangely. There wasn't supposed to be a single thing about this place that was beautiful, but there were the stars, cold and twinkling and completely unfamiliar.

He turned away abruptly, walking quickly for the next door before he could stare any longer. This wasn't the time to get caught up in things like that.

[to here.]

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[devourthem.livejournal.com]

Looking behind at the hallways he'd left one last time, Heat licked the remainders of the boy's blood off of his lips, wiping a stained hand across the rest of his face, where has cheek had dipped into the torn face of the boy. Even if he was stuck eating some dead bird off the damn ground, at least he'd tasted something new - the eye was all liquid, not filling, but still delicious.

Well, not new... but something he hadn't sampled in too long. Who'd ever think he'd miss that shitty Junkyard? At least he didn't have to put up with morals and whining and all this human emotional shit. Eat. Be eaten. Simple.

And for the Karma society, well... if he didn't like his company, he simply got rid of them.

But despite his irritations and rebellion, Heat sunk next to the bird's corpse, immediately ripping at the flesh and feathers with a childish abandon. Something he didn't have to hold back on, thank whatever fucking god were here! As cold as it was, it was meat - not just humors and blood and skin. Solid meat he could grind and rip at and gorge himself on. Audience or no, he wasn't stopping this time.

[intoindra.livejournal.com]

This time, instead of trying to haul Heat off and interrupt him, Roland just took a step back. For one thing, Heat deserved to eat in peace... for another, it was always a little disconcerting to see someone else devouring. Mostly because it reminded Roland that he was exactly the same way, no matter how sophisticated he wanted to be about it. Just a demon in the end, the only difference was the outside...

Speaking of the outside, that made him blink in surprise. Heat had his cape back? It was like he was back home, at least in appearance! Since when had that ever happened? More to the point, how would he not be in demon form if he was given power like the other special counseling patients? "...where did you get those clothes?" Of course, he could wait for the answer; he guessed that Heat would be too busy gorging to answer right away.