#☼ killing butterflies. ﹙ ic. ﹚

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" The Mississippi murders are personally one of my favorite cases to read about. "

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Can't make a strong habit of talking to them when on the job. Talking humanizes. Creates an image separate from the intended final product.

The man leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair which was still flattened and messed from wearing the mask. How kind of the Entity to provide a recreation of his apartment, here in the Fog. With his status and his sway, he could have most things he wanted so long as he kept the creature pleased. It was a two-way street he felt honored to have.

Chin tilted to the dimly lit ceiling, he continues to tangle fingers in dark locks, thoughtful eyes watching the fan paddles spin lazily and generate a light draft. Clippings of past newspaper articles that decorate the walls of his living room flicker gently in the breeze, articles he'd written. It always impressed him how accurate these realms could be, down to the most minuet detail, that the Entity went as far as to preserve his work for him and any potential guests to witness.

Speaking of.. potential guests...

Is it bad that part of him honestly missed his former life? Not that it mattered anymore, not with a gig this fitting. But truth be told... Danny sometimes found himself longing for the days spent playing a double life. The thrill of deception and thoughtful planning. He missed having an audience, that catharsis of the crowd's reaction when he published a new story. The terrified whispers he'd hear in passing on the street, the honest speculating and theorizing from his readers about where and when the Ghostface would strike next. He knew there were those out there who saw past the veneer of fright he'd slowly cultivated with his creation and had a real appreciation for the way he worked. He often wondered what those followers thought of his seemingly undenounced disappearance. Do they now speculate where the ghost of Roseville went?

It's so much harder now to recreate that same... feeling, here. This man was a cold blooded killer, yes. But he was also a talent. The lack of creative output he could make was... understimulating, to say in the least. Perhaps that was why he's resorted to talking. Something he never used to do when on the hunt. And if he did, it was only to those who met their ends at his blade.

Nothing ends here. And with time and persistence, some of the survivors start to realize that. But often times, they forget with every trial.

The man's eyes start to sleepily drift shut. The more these thoughts wander, the drowsier he feels himself become. His lack of consistent hours could also be the reason for such unaware self reflection. Had he the proper emotional intelligence to understand it, Danny might recognize that the hidden feelings these thoughts described were that of loneliness, something he'd never imagine associating himself with.

But instead, he entertains his drifting consciousness with meticulous mental images. More designs that had yet to be brought to life. New ways he could strike terror into the hearts of those that dwelled in the Fog.

It will be this way until the killer is summoned once more to feed the Entity's ever growing hunger for desperation and horror.

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" ...but tonight, you belong to me. ~ "

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Blows you a kiss.

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" How am I supposed to document my murders with all these people photobombing me? Rude. "

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@tviirus said: as she slams the pallet down on the killer, sidney finally speaks. god, how she hated seeing this guy. ❝ not this time, billy. ❞ she says before dropping a flash grenade and then booking it while the ghostface’s vision was obscured.

Sustaining injuries himself during these hunts was always something the Ghostface anticipated, and those troublesome pallets were no exception. That was fine. He liked when survivors were confident anyway - especially the new ones. What he doesn't anticipate, however, were the words this girl spoke. He feels his body seize up when the light floods his vision, so taken aback that he simply stands there for several prolonged seconds, trying to comprehend it.

... What did she just say? 'Not today, Billy'? Who was... Why did she think his name was Billy? Who the fuck is Billy? Who the fuck is she? The masked killer turns his head in the direction he hears the footsteps scurrying off to, patiently waiting for his vision to clear ( although his biding anger upon being named as a complete nobody does not. ) After breaking the pallet with a powerful kick, he readies his knife and breaks off into a full sprint after her. Not so fast, girlie. You have some explaining to do.

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@gviirus said: " Why'd you do that? " the boy's voice is low, uncertain as he looks the other over. Dwight is in awe, and for reason he'd never thought possible -- someone... stood up for him. He was about to get punted for the tenth time this week, and someone stopped that. The question that's boggling his mind now is just why. He was a pathetic waste of space, much as he tried to deny himself otherwise. No one liked him. No one even so much as cared to offer him sympathy. So why did this guy? " They'll come after you, now. "

Danny sits on the ground with his back pressed against the stone wall, shoulders lightly trembling every so often, eyes blown wide and staring absently ahead, still coming off his adrenaline high from the fight. He was definitely looking a little worse for wear, messed hair, bruises marred his arms and a bloodied lip for show. But whatever damage that had been done to him — He had returned to the school bully tenfold. And by the time a teacher managed to intervene, it was already pretty bad. He knew he was definitely going to face consequences for it later ( God forbid his father learns of what transpired today, the thought makes him lightly cringe ) but he didn't really care right now. He was too busy recalling the priceless look on that kid's face as he was beaten senseless.

" But .. they'll leave you alone now, " Danny protests, glancing over at his.. friend. Can he call Dwight that? He wasn't exactly great at keeping them, but he supposed they both were similar in that regard. He smiles, an effort to be reassuring opposed to the other kid's timidness. " Don't worry. If they try anything, I'll just mess 'em up again until they learn their lesson. But what about you ? Are you okay ? "

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@gviirus said: " Just get it over with, " the man whimpers from the floor, looking off to the side with a resigned look of mourning. He doesn't know why the killer is playing with him -- everyone is gone, right? What's stopping him from hooking Dwight now? He has to just be messing with him... that's what everyone does, after all. What hope does he even have to diminish at this point? He's dead. He's definitely dead. " J-just stop messing with me and get it over with! " / @gviirus :)

Another successful trial — At least that's what he would say had it not been for this fateful encounter. His past, it was dead and buried. Danny had made sure of that fact long ago, and he had been blissfully enjoying what the road ahead had in store for him. But what he hadn't expected, was this little remanent of that past. He supposed, the fog liked to recreate places and things from the memories of it's residents, but this trembling, stuttering man was no trick of the light.

Silence washes through the false flower fields, nothing but the sound of freezing rain pouring down on them as The Ghost Face stood over Dwight's cowering form. Everyone else was dead, sacrificed to the Entity ( but not for long, they should know by now that death was not an escape. ) The masked killer seemed... static. Even the strips of fabric that usually floated freely around his visage now hung limply at it's feet as he seemed to ponder what to do. And it occurs to him that he doesn't... like seeing the other this way. Defeated. Hopeless. Something twists in Danny's gut.

The Ghost Face kneels into a crouch, now at eye level with the other man, observing the terror on his face thoughtfully.

" That's it ? You're really just gonna let me kill you ? No fighting back ? "

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" Don't forget to lock your door. "

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Look into his angel eyes, One look and you're hypnotized. He'll take your heart and you must pay the price.

Like the silence of snowfall, the reaper's footsteps carry soundlessly down the dark corridors of the trial, steady shoulders kept at a low angle. A primed and practiced crouch, one that stored tension in the legs and could deliver a powerful lunge when the opportunity presented itself. Everything about it's presence is silent, save for well, the very soft humming emanating from behind the mask. The Ghostface enters a barely lit room full of lockers, trailing the pools of fresh blood on the floor.

Look into his angel eyes, You'll think you're in paradise.

A locker door creaks open, strips of floating fabric curling towards it's rusted metal casing. He already knew this wasn't the one they were hiding in, but that wasn't the point. He cranes his neck, bone white mask turning to look directly at the one at the very end of the corridor with a notable pause as malicious tension filled the air.

" ... And one day you'll find out he wears a disguise ~ " Don't look too deep into those angel eyes.

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@solitarysurvival said: ❛  sometimes i wonder why this is happening.  ❜ perhaps to survivor danny...

IT WASN'T... THE WORST CASE SCENARIO. At least for him. But Danny can't lie, he was not a fan of having his work interrupted like this. He harbors almost an envious attitude towards the killers that hunted them down every waking moment, he sees no reason why he can't be one of them too. Instead, he was stuck with the short end of the stick, much like the rest of these people.

" Karma, maybe .. " the journalist murmurs softly from across the campfire, black eyes only trading glances with Jake for a brief moment before looking away again, out into the trees. It's not like he was lying, and it's not like he wasn't a little self aware. They didn't know that about him, though. So he shrugs, letting go of a little laugh.

" Or just plain bad luck. "

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@alllonsy said: " Oh, it swishes! What a fun little swish! " He's delightedly fascinated by the fabric trails, brows lifted in glee before rationalization kicks in. " Ah, yes -- running. Running now. BYE! "

AS HE'S MENTALLY NOTED BEFORE, people's reactions to his sneaking up on them were always one of the best parts of this job. Sometimes they'd flee screaming, other times they'd be too captivated by him to process what was happening. Sometimes, they said some of the most silliest things, their priorities knocked all out of sync by his mere presence. And this encounter would be one of those times. The mask hides his amused face.

The Ghostface's head tilts, halting it's advance on the Time Lord's position. He'd been watching this man for a while now, keeping a good distance to avoid being noticed. But now, it was time to make it's move. And yes, the strips of fabric were in fact curling weightlessly around his visage with an eager flare. " Very fun. " He agrees softly with a slight nod. As eye contact is prolonged however, The Doctor might feel his twin hearts leap — for the exposed status effect was now set upon him.

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" Oh hey, your blood splatter made a little heart shape. That's adorable. "

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@tequilamoonrock said: ❛ it’s very rude to stare. ❜ (whoever you think would be fun!)

Ah, the comments he got whenever caught peeking. It was both amusing and mildly frustrating, though he supposed he couldn't blame these people for remaining hyper vigilant. In this fog? There was always something lurking, ready to pounce. There was no room for comfort and security in this place...

"Well, what would you prefer I do ? " The Ghost Face inquired rhetorically, head tilting as it observed the red head. Mikaela dear, you should be running. Don't humor this devil.

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@profanecenser said: ❛ what now? i am tired. ❜

200 random dialogue prompts. (accepting!)

Like a kid who just got scolded for traversing too far from the playground, The Ghost Face faltered, shrinking somewhat upon hearing the disdain in Adiris' voice. However, he's quick to perk up again, stepping out of the shadows. No point in hiding, she knows he's there. The masked killer almost forgets himself as he looks on at her visage. It's still so surreal to be surrounded by such lethal beings... Gloved fingers tap together, the floating strips of fabric curling around his body almost sheepishly.

" Well ... "

" If now's a bad time, I can always come back later - "

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@tviirus said: ❝ have you ever had a crush ? ❞ susie asks almost out of the blue. she was holding on to an article of clothing she had ripped from a survivor. ❝ i think i might like someone — but i’ve never been good at things like this. ❞

Now there's something you don't think about every day. At least in the Ghostface's case, he rarely ever pondered emotional ties to other people - let alone the fluttering feelings that came with having a crush. Honestly, he can't even remember the last time he harbored such sentiments in his blackened heart. Although, now that he thinks about it... Maybe fondness for another person wasn't all that foreign to him these days in the fog.

" First off, that's adorable. Good for you, kiddo, " He comments endearingly, giving Susie a little pat on the shoulder. He then notes the article of clothing clasped in her hands, mask tilting curiously at it. " Well.. I might of had them in the past, but they never went anywhere. Too busy with work and stuff. "

" ... Is that Harrington's shirt ? " He thinks he recognizes it. No, he definitely recognizes it.