Topic: Consequences for a Serial Killer. (Lisa's revenge.)

Keirra Owens

Date: 2017-01-04 07:55 EST
The house was quiet, and alone Keirra sat on the couch burning a smoke in little more than a t-shirt and panties. Her unkempt hair had grown long, nearly touching the swell of her stomach. She twisted the nearly spent cigarette between her forefinger and thumb soaking in the solitude. Zver had gone off to bed some time ago, leaving the rogue with her attitude. The only other soul around her was Zim, the white wolf slept soundly on the other side of the couch, playing the loyal guard dog. It was a routine night for them, or what seemed so anymore" Keirra tormented Zver, exerted all she had into breaking him into pieces. It was the normal anymore.

Why'

There was a foggy cloud of hatred swirling in her mind, and there were times where it made her sad, and others where she reveled in it. Why couldn't every day be like Christmas" Why couldn't things be like before" She didn't understand'didn't understand why it felt like her mission to make the man miserable anymore"or why she had to be so damned angry all the time"

Her lips pulled on the filter of the cigarette, sucking away as she basked in that moment of humanity that seemed so rare for her anymore. She felt as if the days were leaving her behind, like she was losing time, her mind, and everything in between. "I don't want to hurt him anymore?" she whispered to herself. "I want things to go back?" Ignoring the perk of ear from the white wolf, leaning forward to stamp that cigarette out in the tray. Her eyes fell shut as she murdered what was left of the filter and leaned back. Zim belly crawled across the couch to her and let out a little whimper as her nose nudged beneath the rogue's hand almost desperately.

That limb was jerked away from the cold, wet nose of the wolf. When those eyes resurfaced, her pupils were black all the way into the whites of her eyes leaving little more than slick black holes between lash and lid. "Mutt?" she muttered before pushing up to a stand. A soft tune was carried over her lips as she moved into the kitchen. Fingers trailed over the block that held the knives, and she smirked lightly before pulling out a small blade and starting out and toward the stairs.

Their bedroom was dimly lit, but the moonlight filtered in on his frame. He slept the same every night. On his belly in a straight line, with those arms folded beneath the pillow" The black-eyed girl tilted her head lightly, humming that soft tune as she moved to stand over him, poking the knife against the flesh of her forefinger as she seemed to consider his sleeping form for a moment. She pressed a hand against his back to hold him still, and then began to carve into the flesh of his right shoulder blade.

((The tune that she's humming. Storyline in which she is possessed by one of Zver's old victims with permission from Zver's mun. For more information, please see Memories of a Serial Killer: Lisa. Thanks for reading!))

Settling Scores

Date: 2017-01-05 01:34 EST
There was, in fact, one other soul in that vicinity. But it wasn't around the rogue, it was inside of her. The little voice in the back of her head that gained control when she didn't feel that Ko could do it herself. She was that foggy cloud of hatred that Keirra was feeling. Her qualm wasn't with the rogue, it was that monster sleeping in her bed. The monster that had wiped her off the map.

Where Ko struggled with the torment, Lisa was right there to ease her mind or try to. But, sweetie, it's not you doing these awful things. It's me. If you want to call yourself the victim to feel better, feel free. You know what I am. And you know what I'm here for. Your hands are merely my weapons. It's not a personal thing, at least not on my part. It's all about him. Words that she'd told the rogue over and over again, but sometimes the lines might've gotten crossed. When you get into this line of work, you have to expect things to get hairy. Collateral happens, even when you try your hardest not to. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm doing this to you. A demon, but not long enough to have forgotten yet what it felt like to be human. Not yet anyways. Well, at least not when Zver wasn't in the room.

It was that fact that had her pulling back, dialing down that malice being forced on the girl. Her fight was with Zver, and the rogue still had her humanity ahead of her. As long as that will last. It's only a matter of time before he does to you what he did to me. Maybe not the same, but he surely knows how to get creative.

The culprit of that anger, that hatred, sitting in the recesses of Keirra's mind only sprang back and let a crackling growl split through the rogue's mind. "You don't want to hurt him anymore" What about those that he's hurt' The parents and family of those that he's killed, slaughtered, murdered" Just because he's human again doesn't mean his slate's wiped clean. He has to pay for what he's done. No. NO. If you don't want to hurt him, then I will."

That thrumming malicious energy pulsated in the rogue's mind, the voice that had been sweet at one time held so much anger and growling hatred that could no longer be considered human reverberated through her mind. And doubting the rogue's ability to do the job, she took over. Sinful wrath overcoming any ounce of humanity. And even that poor wolf had received the backlash of that anger.

And the song she hummed while letting that hatred spill over, the words coiled and wrapped around her mind, heard in the voice she'd grown to despise.

"Tili Tili bom, Zakroy glaza skoree, kto-to hodit za oknom I stuchitsya v dveri."

Zver

Date: 2017-01-05 03:37 EST
He had no clue what had gotten into the rogue over the past few months. They'd been dicks to each other, sure. He used to let her beat the hell out of him for fun, the little joke between them about how much of a pain slut he was. That was when he was a demon, a sociopath. Don't get him wrong, he was still into pain. He was still into getting smacked around now and then by the women, even if he couldn't take as much of a beating now that he was human again.

But these past few months had been so much more than a fun tussle between the two. Being shoved down the stairs after a misunderstanding where she thought he'd called her fat, the result was the cast from toe to knee he was now toting after his shin broke in three different places. He was doing well on the healing process, using only one crutch now to get around but that didn't change the fact that it had happened in the first place. The constant torment the pregnant rogue was putting him through, he was torn in a constant assumption of it being pregnancy hormones (with hopes that when she popped out Boulder that it would go away) and being half convinced she hated him now. In the meantime, he put up with her crazy. Sometimes, he deserved it with the way he ran his mouth, even he would admit that. Sometimes, it came out of nowhere and even he had to blink a few times wondering what the hell had just happened.

The intermission from her crazy on Christmas had been a godsend. They'd spent the entire day either wrapped in their own world of being the sexual deviants they'd always been, or being unnaturally affectionate with both words and actions. They'd had dinner without him worrying she was going to pounce over the table and start stabbing him with the dinner fork, and there hadn't really been any hiccups that day. No more than there would've been before. For two people that had denied those three little words, him especially thanks to that tick he had of killing those that spoke them to him, they sure had said I love you a lot that day. By the time the day was over, he'd questioned his own sanity, wondering if everything that had happened before Christmas had just been a dark dream fabricated in his own mind and paranoia. Only to be proven wrong when waking the next morning and the torment carried on as usual. Still, that day had been a much needed break from the crazy and seeming hatred that almost oozed from the rogue half the time.

Sleeping had become his own little intermission break from the rogue's crazy, he usually just woke up to it. When his dreams and night terrors weren't tormenting him too, at least. Those...didn't usually have anything to do with her, though. Tonight, she seemed to have different plans, however.

Sleeping as peacefully as one could who was constantly bombarded with night terrors, he was in that same spot as he always was. He didn't move much, even considering the terrors he dreamed of, he didn't lash out or roll over. He was still to the point that you might question him being dead if it wasn't for the movement of his breathing.

A heavy sleeper, it was the hand pressed to his back that only riled him from dream state the slightest. That hint of movement beneath his closed lids, the hitch in the next deep inhale until he breathed it out and seemed to settle. Pulled only halfway from his dream, perhaps the external stimulation contorting his dream into something else, it was the shock of the blade cutting into his shoulder blade that had his eyes snapping open. The sudden awaking from a night terror locked him into a state of confusion, his brain not quite comprehending what was going on with the switch of night terror to....being carved into with a friggin' kitchen knife. Slurred, sleepy words came out of his mouth lazily, almost a growl as if grumpy from being woken up in such a way. "What the flying fuck are you doing?" His arms sliding out from under the pillow, pausing to wince at the pain that shot through his shoulder from the point of the blade. He was confused, grumpy, and now his damn shoulder hurt. What the hell was going on"! His elbows found the mattress and he seemed as if he was going to push himself up until he felt the resistance of her hand on his back, his brain a bit slow on the draw of trying to figure out what was going on.

Keirra Owens

Date: 2017-01-07 00:40 EST
It wasn't as if she'd expected him to stay asleep the entire time. Sleeping like the dead only got a man so far, especially coming from where he came from. Still, she had barely gotten to begin the L when he started moving around. The blade was lifted and a soft sigh of annoyance or perhaps even anger breezed through her clenched teeth. Glistening black holes stared down at him, tucking behind the lids when he began to push himself up. Her fingers splayed on his back to keep him in place, the last thing she needed was him wheeling his head around and putting it together before she had time to screw with that twisted head of his. No. This was the long game, and she was in it to win it. Russian lyrics spilled from her lips, "Relax," she nearly cooed, pausing in her piece of artwork.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," she told him, holding fast with the blade as she stared down at the beginning of her masterpiece. His flesh wasn't pouring blood, but it was collecting in the bit of torn skin she'd begun. "I know how much you like to wear my name on you?" she whispered. "I was carving it onto your back."

Biting into her lip, she really didn't wait for a reply before she was burying that blade back against his flesh to finish out the letter. When she finished, in jagged letters his shoulder blade would read, "Lisa." The knife would be carelessly tossed into the sink, and she'd let the rogue go to bed. Sleep was the most peace she got from the demon. No anger, no malice, just darkness and dreams.

Zver

Date: 2017-01-07 06:06 EST
It was a compromising ordeal to say the least. To sleep like a rock, only to be triggered awake by certain things. It didn't matter how deep asleep he may have seemed, a blade to his back would rile him out of nearly any unconscious state. And yes, it did have something to do with where he was from. The moment the point had pressed, he'd stirred. When she tore into his flesh, he was awake. If it wasn't for that subconscious knowing that it was her, he probably would've lashed at her regrettably and felt like shit for it later. But somewhere in that recess of his mind, he could feel that it was her. Waking groggy instead of defensive, if not a bit irritated at being woken in such a way. Could she really blame him' Even for a pain slut, it still wasn't a great way to wake!

Eyes half lidded only grew heavier at those Russian lyrics that spilled into his ears. Grumbling, he mumbled to her. "You relax.." in a piss poor retort that she'd have to deal with. His mind was only working at a portion of capacity for the moment. But it seemed to have eased him some as he stopped trying to get up. Instead, he moved the heels of his hands to his eye sockets and rubbed them with a twist of his wrists. He hadn't been asleep all that long, he could tell by the way that his mind fogged with groggy exhaustion.

The mention of a surprise had him mumbling something inaudible under his breath, grumbling away until he must've decided he didn't really care at that point. He returned his arms to their respectable place beneath his pillow, the muscles in his shoulders shifting briefly as he settled back down until his head thumped back into the circle of cushion he'd created. His head turned in her direction but his eyes were closed, sniffling with a twitch of his nose until there was the tiniest curl of a smirk when she told him of her plans. "Tattoo above my dick not good enough for you, Sugar Puss?" His words nearly slurred as the promise of sleep seemed to lull him into an even groggier state. "Whatever, have at ittttttfffff..." The last word contorted into a light hiss as that blade dug into his shoulder, whether she'd waited for his response or not. But after the initial shock of pain, the muscles that had tensed relaxed as he fell into a pain induced sleep. Almost falling asleep with a smile on his face before she was even finished.

______________________________________________

The Next Morning

He woke as he always did, to a bitching fiancee who was claiming to be starving. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going," he sighed, waving her off with his hand after he clasped the button to his jeans. He skipped putting on a shirt, hobbling out of the room with his hand on his opposing shoulder, the one that radiated with sore aches and pains from his woman's handiwork yet he still used to maneuver his crutch about. He scrunched his face as he paused in his journey to rotate the joint, the tissue stiff from her having torn into skin already riddled with thick mottled scar tissue from a past he'd sooner forget. "Bitch did a number," he snickered, but he didn't seem displeased by that fact. Instead, he shook it off and returned his pace, easing down the stairs with that thump thump repeat of his cast hitting each wooden stair he limped down.

Reaching the landing much faster these days from constant practice, he made his way into the kitchen. "Breakfast ready yet' The Komonster's bitching again," he grumbled, moving along to the living room to go for the pack of Carnivals resting on the coffee table. He didn't even bother to look into the kitchen to see who was in there, his one track mind only dreaming of that morning nicotine fix.

Freya Scarpello

Date: 2017-01-08 06:54 EST
Dorian had been given the morning off, since he certainly didn't get the night off. She'd go ahead and let him hibernate through breakfast to make up for it. She took over the "wifely' duties in the kitchen, though her specialty was more to keep everyone in line and provide protection in the household. It was fun to switch up roles sometimes, right'

So there she was, wearing a pair of plaid pajama shorts and a white t-shirt while crackling and popping bacon around in the pan. A spatula in each hand, one flipping bacon, the other shoving around eggs. Platinum locks were yanked up into something of a ponytail mated with a bun, and her eyes shifted toward the entrance to the living room at the noise on the stairs. She knew it was him, if only because he had a certain"rhythm to his movements. "Gimpy. He was gimpy. Her lips pursed in a sassy way, as she moved to the cabinet to fish out some plates. She'd put some eggs and bacon on them so that she could spare Zver the bitching of his fianc?"this done well before he called out.

"Yeah, just finishing up?" she said, putting a fork on each plate and moving to meet him half way. "Want me to take it up" Spare you from having your head ripped off or your soul torn out?" she joked"kind of. As she stepped into the room with a plate in each hand, she raised an eyebrow at Zver's newfound marking. ?"Who's Lisa?" she asked with a tilt of her head, lips flatlining. She had a feeling Keirra wasn't going to like that name branded on him. If she only knew?

Zver

Date: 2017-01-08 19:59 EST
On his way to the coffee table, he turned his head with a curious expression to the kitchen hearing not Dorian's but Freya's voice telling him it was just about done. "The hell is Mr. Mom this morning" Is he....sleeping in?" Feigning a gasp as if it was purely blasphemy for the male Nighteater in the house to sleep in past 7 am. In a way, it kind of was. He couldn't remember the last time Dorian really slept in. He was typically bright and bushy-tailed obnoxiously early in the morning. An almost sly smirk was shot over his shoulder in her direction. "Tire him out?"

It was about that time that smirk turned into a look of relief. It was almost pathetic, really. But mornings with the KoMonster wasn't easy, and all but given up on the idea of getting into the rogue's good favor in the mornings. Good, you brought breakfast. Now get the fuck out. A bit of a cackle pooled from his lips as he snatched up the pack of Carnivals finally and worked a stick out of the pack. "You offering to deal with Medusa this morning" Have at it. She won't fuck with you." The last was almost a bitter grumble, mumbled into the filter he'd fit between his lips until he lit the end with a familiar hot pink Bic.

He'd just managed to get that first blissful morning drag off that smoke, his eyes nearly rolling into his head until he blinked them back into focus when that name fell off the Nighteater's lips. A barely noticeable flinch at the name came out, guilt washed over him as that name had been one to haunt his night terrors in a fit of guilt. But all that he portrayed on his face was a blank expression as he stared at her with those hazel eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?" His brows dipped in the middle, his hand slowly rising to take an almost painfully deep drag off the cigarette he was holding as he waited for her to explain why the flying fuck she brought up that name.

Freya Scarpello

Date: 2017-01-08 21:46 EST
That question had a smirk easing its way onto her expression, damn right he was sleeping in! Mama was proud of that, too! Zver was going to turn her into a filthy smoker at this point, because damn did that cigarette look good" "You know how it is," she told him with a shrug as if refusing to go into detail or brag. Then a smirk found its way onto her expression. "Or"maybe you don't, anymore?" Keirra very well might've been in praying mantis mode, trying to eat his brains after.

"Don't let her hear you calling her Medusa or she'll probably go after your stones," Freya muttered with a light scoff. ?"but yeah, I'll give her the food if you want a break," she said with a shrug. She wasn't even remotely afraid of Keirra. Then again, she wasn't human, and Keirra wasn't carrying her child. Sure, they had to live together, but Freya could be much more persuasive than"well, just about anyone else in the house. Maybe Freya just didn't understand hormones, because she didn't understand why everyone seemed to go so easy on the rogue, why she seemed to do no wrong with Dorian. Freya never claimed to understand women, though' She didn't have a lot of female friends. Closest she had was Dorian, and he just dressed the part at times.

She moved over to set his plate on the coffee table. "I'll take it up," she said, raising an eyebrow at the change in him at the mention of the name. A blonde brow dipped down and she gave him an odd look as she headed toward the stairs. "Lisa?" she muttered again. "It's carved onto your back," she climbed two of the stairs and continued to stare. "You don't keep track of what?s being put on your back now?" Freya scoffed, "Be right back..?

Zver

Date: 2017-01-08 23:06 EST
The smirk was just barely caught in his vision and he almost made a face and gagged. What' After a good nearly 30 years of knowing the Nighteater, the idea of Frey boinking him was....not a pretty image, to say the least. Or maybe Zver was just biased because he was a prick, there's always that too. He did, however, roll his eyes when she told him he knew how it is, until she decided to amend that. Snickering, he said nothing other than letting a particular twirling gesture of his middle finger rise to say his words for him. Thanks for reminding me I don't get some much anymore, bitch. Or maybe he was just bitter that the flamboyantly metro-sexual Nighteater was getting laid more than he was these days. It was a role he wasn't used to, give him a break!

Never one to pass up an opportunity to make fun of himself, he feigned a serious yet confused expression when he looked at her. "...What stones?" The illusion was cut by a coy smirk in that moment before he snickered. "We both know she's just waiting to make them a mantle piece or put them in a pickle jar on her night stand..." With a sigh, nodding in agreement. He might've toughed it out and shrugged it off, played the tough guy and told her he'd take it up himself. I survived Cold Harbor, I've got this. Maybe they should make t-shirts or buttons for the survivors of Cold Harbor" But it was true in the fact that he needed a break. "Thanks Frey." Unlike Dorian and Zim who were shoved up Ko's ass, Frey didn't put up with her shit. He was in a tight spot considering he was the one that knocked her up and put her in that position in the first place. There was a bit of guilt there, even more when the research nerd decided to read up on various articles and 'know how' about pregnancy and giving birth. Which only had him giving her a little more leniency for the crap she was putting him through. Those guys on the message boards weren't kidding when they said that their woman turns into a completely different fucking person when they're pregnant. I almost don't even recognize her at this point. Oh, Zver. If you only fucking knew.

By the time she was putting the plate to the coffee table, he didn't quite seem all there. His eyes were a bit distant and all he could manage was a mumbled, "thanks." It was the repeat of the name that had him blinking away that distant look and staring at her. Lisa....carved into my back....what" A bit slow on the draw, it seemed. His hand instinctively came up, wrapping around the curve of his shoulder to finger the indents made from the blade as if he was trying to trace it. Jagged, still crusted with dried blood and the beginnings of scabs. He wasn't going to really be able to feel it out in it's current condition.

His brows furrowed deep, hardly even registering what Frey was saying or doing at this point. He hadn't even noticed her walking away. He was staring at the floor a few feet ahead of him, almost looking like he was somewhat in a daze. His mind working in overdrive, possibly more than he was really ready for having just woken up minutes before and hadn't even finished his first cigarette. Carved into my back....Lisa"... Foggy memory from a brain that was half asleep last night rose to the surface. I know how much you like to wear my name on you....I was carving it into your back... He hadn't thought anything of it last night. He already had 'Property of Keirra' tattooed on his pelvis. More memories came flooding in as the pieces fell into place. Zim, crawling into his lap while he was doped up on Vicodin from the busted leg. Demon...Demon....eyes... Swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly felt dry like he'd been sucking on a cotton ball. Keirra hadn't been acting much like herself these past few months, and he had summed it up to anger for him knocking her up or the hormones make her act off.

His fingers still brushed the jagged indents of the carving on his back while his mind worked over. She acted like she wanted to kill me.. That day when she'd pushed him down the stairs, claimed it as an accident and even got Dorian to snap at him instead. That awful smile that she'd given him when Dorian wasn't looking. That wasn't the smile of his Ko, the one that had busted him out of prison in no more than a trench coat and heels. Had stuck with him through all of his sociopathy, being a demonic monster under Erebus' thumb. No, that was the smile of vengeance, of his past coming back to bite him in the ass.

His breathing somewhat erratic, he blinked rapidly and tossed the cigarette that had long since smoldered out onto the plate of food that Frey had set down. He had no urge to eat at this point. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling with Frey having gone upstairs, staring as if the ceiling had all the damn answers for him. Is that even MY Keirra up there anymore? His stomach turned, both cursing himself for not seeing it before. For ignoring Zim's uncharacteristic shifting to human form and actually speaking to try to tell him something was wrong with Keirra. For not seeing this coming before. He'd spent his entire life dealing with otherworldly things. He'd been a fucking demon himself. Now, he felt like an idiot.

His eyes flitted left and right as he put everything together, his chest rising and falling too fast for his lungs to keep up before he abruptly turned tail and booked it to the bathroom (as fast as the cast on his leg and crutch would allow him to). Bursting through the bathroom door with a slapping palm to the wood, he stumbled against the sink and let the crutch under his arm clatter to the floor. Leaning against the edge, he stared at himself in the mirror, almost hesitant at looking at it. He didn't really need the proof, didn't need to see it. He was very nearly convinced that what he'd done to Lisa was surely coming back for him. But he had to see it. Had to know that it wasn't just some damn prank to scare him. Everyone knew he was paranoid. Maybe Dorian had told Frey about Lisa. Maybe his paranoia was just making him see things that weren't there. Reading too much into it. Or maybe it was simply denial that he'd gotten Keirra stuck in the middle of his fuck ups all over again.

Staring at himself in the mirror, the way he used to in order to speak to Mary on the other side, but this time he doubted she'd even be able to help him. After readying himself, his shoulder rolled while his body turned, leaning heavily on the side of the sink as his opposing hand came up to touch it to make sure it was definitely there. As he slowly turned, he could see the make of a mutilated line from the blade. It looked a bit swollen and angry from not cleaning it up after she'd done it, but beneath the crusted scab and dried blood, the more he turned he surely discovered the jagged lines of Lisa cut into his back.

His eyes closed, a wavering breath gushing from his lungs as he lowered his hand from his shoulder and placed both palms against the edge of the sink. The beginning of a panic attack set in as he bent forward and let his head fall between the parallel of his straightened arms, forcing himself to breath. Eyes squeezed shut, cheeks puffing as he tried to relearn how to breathe, fear not for himself but for Keirra (okay, maybe a little bit for himself too) had his chest clenching. "Fuck!" Abruptly, he straightened from where he was hunched over as his lips turned into a scowl. Impulse took the wheel as he pulled his arm back and threw his fist into the mirror, both shattering the glass and cutting up his knuckles in the effort. Pain radiated through his hand, fragments of mirror clinking and clattering around the sink and some tumbling to the floor as he all but panted standing there. Lowering his hand to his side, a slow but steady drip of blood fell to the floor to add in to the shards of glass littered there. And all he could do for a moment was stare into the broken image of himself staring back at him from the broken shards of mirror.

For a moment, he could almost swear that the image staring back at him smiled. A soft whisper passing by his ear and tickled the ringlets of curls had his hair rising on the back of his neck. It's time to pay for what you've done, Zver. In a sing-song voice that he hadn't heard in decades. And like the passing of a breeze, the bone-chilling malicious laughter of a woman's voice bounced around in his head. Taunting, threatening. Suffocating.

Settling Scores

Date: 2017-01-08 23:32 EST
In Zver's old apartment, the vengeful demon stood. Staring in front of the mirror with an almost serene smile on her face. She was leaned over the sink, eyes like a horse's reflecting the same image plastered in the mirror of that unnerving smile. In burgundy lipstick she was scrawling in almost delicate penmanship:

"I missed you."

And as always when she fell into that murderous mindset, she sang that fateful tune.

"Tili Tili bom, krichit nochnaya ptitsa, on ezhe probralsya v dom k tem, komu ne spitsya."

_______________________ [Translation of Lyrics: "Tili Tili Bom Can you hear the birds through the night? He's already made his way into the house For those who cannot sleep."]