Post by Vincent Phantomhive on Aug 27, 2011 16:51:32 GMT -5
Character: Vincent Phantomhive
Sample Starter: “You do what you did in life,” spoke the voice in his head. “Seek out those that threaten mankind, those that are otherworldly and do not belong on this plane and those that do harm with intention.” And then it was gone, as swiftly as it had come, leaving only an echo of its presence in the form of a memory.
Stormy gray eyes flickered open and stared up into a sky of similar color. Rain was on the wind – the air would not stay dry for long. With this thought in mind, he drew the edges of his overcoat tight about his body and turned to begin the trudge down the few dirt streets that made up the town.
It was a small village on the coast, not far from Brighton and on the way towards Portsmouth and he had been hearing strange tales of witchcraft and midnight haunts from farmer folk in the area. The nameless village itself had been sending missing persons notices for three weeks according to the police force in Brighton, though none of the eleven reports seemed to pinpoint the exact location where said persons were last seen; a strange omission for such reports, to be sure.
There were few people out and about and those that were busied themselves in preparation for the pending tempest. They only cast furtive glances at the stranger in their midst once or twice, never stopping to ask after his business. That suited the one-time Earl just fine. They would not bother him as he conducted his business, not unless he bothered them first.
Finally he came upon his destination: a small, out-of-the-way shack near the cliffs overlooking the sea. Its windows had been boarded up and its door was latched tight, but smoke curled from the mud brick chimney to indicate there was someone at home.
A worn-out woman with a child on her hip and dark circles beneath her eyes answered his knock, stared him up and down, and appeared quite startled to see him. Never had a man in expensive attire paid her a visit, so of course her look of initial shock was understandable. Vincent greeted her with his typical small, kind smile and honest expression.
“Good evening, madam. I’m here from Scotland Yard in London. I have a few questions concerning your missing husband.” And so it began – his work after death for the betterment of mankind, though this time in the name of Heaven.
Referral: Madam Red
Sample Starter: “You do what you did in life,” spoke the voice in his head. “Seek out those that threaten mankind, those that are otherworldly and do not belong on this plane and those that do harm with intention.” And then it was gone, as swiftly as it had come, leaving only an echo of its presence in the form of a memory.
Stormy gray eyes flickered open and stared up into a sky of similar color. Rain was on the wind – the air would not stay dry for long. With this thought in mind, he drew the edges of his overcoat tight about his body and turned to begin the trudge down the few dirt streets that made up the town.
It was a small village on the coast, not far from Brighton and on the way towards Portsmouth and he had been hearing strange tales of witchcraft and midnight haunts from farmer folk in the area. The nameless village itself had been sending missing persons notices for three weeks according to the police force in Brighton, though none of the eleven reports seemed to pinpoint the exact location where said persons were last seen; a strange omission for such reports, to be sure.
There were few people out and about and those that were busied themselves in preparation for the pending tempest. They only cast furtive glances at the stranger in their midst once or twice, never stopping to ask after his business. That suited the one-time Earl just fine. They would not bother him as he conducted his business, not unless he bothered them first.
Finally he came upon his destination: a small, out-of-the-way shack near the cliffs overlooking the sea. Its windows had been boarded up and its door was latched tight, but smoke curled from the mud brick chimney to indicate there was someone at home.
A worn-out woman with a child on her hip and dark circles beneath her eyes answered his knock, stared him up and down, and appeared quite startled to see him. Never had a man in expensive attire paid her a visit, so of course her look of initial shock was understandable. Vincent greeted her with his typical small, kind smile and honest expression.
“Good evening, madam. I’m here from Scotland Yard in London. I have a few questions concerning your missing husband.” And so it began – his work after death for the betterment of mankind, though this time in the name of Heaven.
Referral: Madam Red
