[color=Ivory]"I'd rather not do any more dragging if I can help it, you're already annoyed with me enough as it is.[/color] Jaden said with a light chuckle, buttoning back up his shirt while he thoughts turned inward for a moment. [color=Ivory]"I'll also make note to avoid using lingo of any kind while I'm there. No need to make a bigger fool of myself than I already might be."[/color]

Rising from the chair, he picked up his jacket and threw it across his shoulder as he walked towards the kitchen exit, wiping any remains of the cake from his face as he did so. With a short wave towards his charge, he was off into the depths of the city. In the crooked city streets, where shadows lurked at every corner, he felt the pull of dark instincts tugging at his mind. His breath would begin to quicken as tired blue eyes slowly became infected by a crimson taint. He was wonderings soon brought him to an empty alleyway, the grimy floor covered with all forms of trash, debris, and refuse. Huddle in the corner was a homeless man, soundly asleep and smelling strongly of alcohol, drugs, and filth. Yet beneath it all was the faint flavor the electrified the senses, the delectable taste of life roiling within the poor man's soul. 

A foul mist began to coalesce around Jaden as he approached the lone figure, the white of his hair darkening to a cold, cruel black. Blue eyes would given into to the demons within, shining a red so brilliant they seemed to glow as he hovered over the sleeping man. Reaching down, he'd grab the man around his throat, the tight grip instantly jarring the man into consciousness. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a soft, gasping hiss as Jaden's fingers came down on his windpipe, squeezing it so tight that barely any air could get through. The man began to struggle as hard as he could, clawing at his own throat in order to try and loosen the devilish grip of the monster before him. All the while, Jaden would look on, his grip never lessening. Then, as if finally growing tired of this pointless resistance, he grabbed his victim's headed and twisted it.

The homeless man struggled no longer, and as the soul within him, a pale white, wisp-like manifestation, began to dissipate, Jaden would stretch his hand out in a beckoning gesture. The shadow's the coiled around his form would stab into the soul, dragging it back to him. With a delicate gentleness, Jaden grasped the soul, stroking it gently as if to console it, before tightening his grip on it. Wriggling and writhing, the soul would frantically try to escape his clutches, but it was no use. As the pressure increased, the soul could no longer take the strain and broke into a hail of tiny white pieces. These were then absorbed by Jaden, drawn into his body as he took a deep shuddering breath.

[color=Crimson]"Not enough . . . not even close to enough."[/color] Rising to his feet, crimson eyes glowing in the darkness of the alley.  Darkness and shadow would converge on his form, then become formless as it surged upwards onto the rooftops, making it's way from building to building in search of more prey. A man of around 40 years, happily married with his 3rd child on the way. A teen girl who had snuck out to see her boyfriend that night, despite being grounded. A lonely old woman who stood upon the precipice of life and death at a nearby bridge, uncertain what her life truly meant. These lives were taken that night, silence forever and doomed to never know peace, never to meet their eternal rest. No, all that awaited them now was constant torment until they was nothing left of them. For that was how he now lived, and it is how he must always live, lest the demon that forces him to take these lives rips itself free from his body and feasts upon our world with no restraint.

[hr]

Jaden would've returned last night as he did sometimes, in a daze, eyes turned into an unseeing void as he went through the motions. The jacket was placed on the hook, clothes were removed and the bedsheets flung open. And there he slept, the calm appearance of his body in heavy contrast to the guilt-ridden hell that was his mind. This was a state encouraged by the demon, but formed by his own actions, and inability to deal with them completely. It wouldn't be until the twilight hour of the following day, when the sun began to go down, that he awoke. Getting up into a sitting position, he rubbed his face, thoughts turning back towards the innocents that he had to kill. But just like always, he pushed these thoughts to the side, not wishing to dwell on such matters.

But he still found it hard to get out of his bed this evening, even though he knew he had to get ready for the party soon. He was just . . . tired. So very, very tired.