400yearsofsurvival | NSFW: Tourist Trap

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NSFW: Tourist Trap

This modern era was nothing but a gift to Jerry. Anywhere he went on the globe, in every major city, he could find roaming herds of people far from home. Lost in an unfamiliar place. Too trusting for their own good. Night shifts and over population. Overworked cops who couldn't keep up enough to see a pattern. The cities were his playground, the people his buffet.

This time around he was feeling like he wouldn't mind a little Italian for a while. So he'd found a nice place to hole up and begin his work. He'd been snacking his way through the population, making himself comfortable. But tonight? Tonight he wanted a challenge. He'd been watching the priest for some time. At first he'd been worried. Usually a priest was bad news. But this one didn't give him the same feeling. He didn't feel repulsed by this man. Only after some time did it click: he didn't have faith. Perfect.

Even better: after he started following the man, he discovered he was just like every lost morsel in the city. Alone. Travelling. Someone who wouldn't be missed for some time. And Jerry did so love hotels. Places where people felt cozy and safe. They opened their doors easily, thinking the staff protected them. But unlike homes, he could enter as he pleased. No protection here. With an ever changing staff, it was so easy to walk in without being questioned. The night before he'd discovered which room the priest was staying in. Tonight, he acted.

He walked right up to the hotel room door and gave it a light knock. Dressed only in a teeshirt and jeans, he looked unassuming. Average. He tucked his thumbs in his belt and waited. Listening.

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[ The modern era is a gift. There is so much to be had, so much at his fingertips, and so many ways to simply disappear. It's overpopulated and messy. People are unaware of what lingers in the shadows, ignorant of all the problems they create, that they perpetuate. Just thinking about it gives him a rush. They only see what they want to see, never looking deeper because they're too selfishly wrapped up in their own lives and their importance.

Kotomine loves it as much as he hates it. He wishes, idly, that Kiritsugu had been able to pull the trigger with the grail. To wipe out the world, start fresh. Death all around, all encompassing, and only they survive.

But, tsk, it was a pipe dream.

So he goes back to Italy, returns to his facade as easily as a snake sheds skin. The faithful leave him be, the unfaithful choose to avoid. And the daring only look into his face before deciding he's not worth the effort. If only they knew.

Having attended a summit of lectures in Rome, he settles down in a hotel, just nice enough to stay in for a few days. Since arriving, he's felt eyes on the back of his neck. Nothing that his power could sense– it was, after all, meant for offense and less defense. A shadow followed at his heels. He's debating with himself whether he should beckon it closer when there's a knock on his door.

Casting a glance at the clock (21:44), he pauses in unbuttoning his shirt and answers. ]

Can I help you?

Damn. Usually they at least cracked the door in these places. But a little stumbling block like a locked door was nothing to him. He'd done this a thousand times. Perhaps there had been a time when lying, when playing nice, didn't come so easily, but it was so far in the past, history itself couldn't remember.

"Maintenance," he said without hesitation. Summoning just enough bored irritation in his voice to mimic a laborer stuck doing grunt work in the middle of the night. "Be in and out in less than a minute, just gotta check the room's water." It worked on most people, but would the priest be like most people?

[ Kirei lets the answer roll around in his head for a moment. And then decisively opens the door, even if he's got an unbuttoned shirt. ]

I see. [ He betrays none of his suspicion, voice deep and neutral. This person– he thinks this may be the shadow. If he's inviting trouble in, well, he can handle it. If it's maintenance, then everything should be fine.

And the shadow. Well. A thrill runs through him at the thought. Let them come. ]

Please, come in. I will not stop you from your work. [ Kirei moves to the side, gesturing for the person to enter. ]

An invitation. How quaint. That lone erased any residual power that might have come from this being a technically private room. Then again, he only ran into that when people treated a hotel room like their home, and that took time, making it a very rare case.

He strode into the room, dark eyes sweeping the space. He didn't really care about the room, he could work with anything. He was more concerned about what he could hear, what he could smell. How much could he hear through the walls? Would anyone hear a scream? What he found most interesting is there was nothing even close to nervousness coming off the man. Not odd, exactly. But certainly uncommon.

Taking a moment, he pushed the door closed behind himself, and once it clicked shut something about him changed. A subtle shift in his posture, in the angle of his shoulders. Dropping an act that had been vague at best. As he turned back to the priest, a lazy smile spread over his face. His eyes weren't just dark anymore, they were completely solid black, the whites consumed by darkness.

"That's better," he said, his voice a low sigh of satisfaction.

[ To say he felt an odd energy coming off the newcomer would be an understatement.

Even without that, there's something in the way that the man observes his surroundings. Like a predator with prey. An attacker sweeping the room for escape routes. Kirei only knows this because it mirrors his own face– not now, of course, but in past circumstances. The violent always recognize the violent.

He lets him look around and continues about his business, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as he steps towards his luggage. Easily, he slides it off his shoulders and folds the garment, tucking it into an empty spot in the suitcase. This leaves him in plain white shirtsleeves and trousers. And socks. Along one arm though, there's a mark like intercrossing stripes. Like a tattoo that's been erased. The light catches on it just so. ]

Have you been looking for me? [ Kirei turns to glance at the man, eyes flicking to the blackened in corneas and the change in posture. ]

It takes a lot to make a monster like Jerry hesitate, even slightly. But something about this guy is enough to give him pause. He isn't having second thoughts, nor is he concerned. It's just that there's something....different about this one. It's almost intriguing, really. Most humans tended to have a rather strong reaction to something as minor as a shift of the eyes. Yet this one didn't seem to have the slightest glimmer of a reaction.

That in itself was a challenge. At what point would this one react? Because that fear, that adrenaline, made things so much sweeter. Sweeter still if he had to work for it. It had been far too easy for too long. He moved closer, making note of the strange marks on the young man's arm.

"Something like that..." he said, his voice sounding deeper, thicker, as fangs sprouted where his eyeteeth had been. He brought one hand up, a wicked claw moving to trace down the man's neck. "You're not like most people, are you, guy?"

[ There's hesitation in the air. Or perhaps it's consideration. Kirei doesn't know enough about this stranger to pick which it is, but it doesn't bother him either way. Instead, he simply waits it out, lets the silence fill between them. Something will break eventually.

And it does.

He's approached, the distance closed and the air feeling like it's vibrating. Charged by interest and the slow curl of adrenaline he feels creeping through his veins. There's only so much a human could suppress, when faced with the monstrous. A claw runs along the thin skin of his neck, where his heart beats steady. Kirei shivers at the contact, unable to keep it in. ]

I am not. I am unlike most people you have met, in all likelihood. [ He pauses, keeps his eyes on the stranger's face. ] What is it you've come for?

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