One Hell of A Night [Mal]

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“Why am I even here...?” As Preston whispered longingly, nature’s breath chilled the lonely human as he sat nestled beneath his favorite tree, recalling a time when his isolation was just an impossible nightmare. He believed Eva would never disappear from his side and that they would fade together but some higher power had other plans for him and now here he was, alone. His guitar lay beside him, untouched for most of the evening. His broken wrist still hung in front of his chest however the news was that he had a few days more until it was to be removed. Vergil had been hovering over the human’s shoulder like a hawk ever since the incident at Vixen’s Keep, reminding him constantly that this world was no longer safe for the innocent and that Preston needed to be careful. Preston knew he meant well and they had become great friends. Vergil was the only good thing in his life right now but even then... it just wasn’t enough. It was like clockwork, Preston had to come her and reminisce of a time long since past. Eva loved this place and it was Preston’s access to her memory. “Eva...” He muttered, leaning against the tree and watching as the sun disappeared over the horizon, swallowed by the shadows. The air continued to cool his skin and in response he bundled up close, adjusting his tattered leather jacket. He knew it was best to head home but he couldn’t. He was too tired to even stand, too exhausted from the after effects of his medication.

Dr. Kadic had prescribed him a higher dosage ever since his run-in with that monstrous boy that literally destroyed his chance of performing at the one gig he managed to get. Jean and the rest of his crew tried their best to console Preston but it obviously wasn’t working because he was still here, pondering whether to give up on music forever. Hell, even giving up completely...

“No... I couldn’t do that.” He whispered to himself, shaking his head in disgust. Yes the thought always hung over him like a cloud but he had people in his life now that needed him and he would not allow himself to give up. He had lasted this long through the hell, he couldn’t. He may welcome death but deep down he was afraid. He was afraid of everything really!

He glanced to the guitar nestled beside him, beckoning him to play. Unfortunately he couldn’t with his wounded wrist. He could manage of a few cords but not enough; most of his time spent here was just writing music, which had not progressed at all. He hated that he was letting down his mates with this injury and lack of inspiration. If he had just let that kid leave without attempting to attack him, he wouldn’t be without his wrist or his guitar.

Preston, in his rambling thoughts couldn’t seem to focus on a single problem, there were just too many things in his head. His hands shaking nervously, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed the bottle with his pills. Popping it open he allowed a single tablet to drop down his throat. He needed to calm down before returning home to Vergil, he didn’t want to overwhelm him with his stupid problems!

“Oh Preston, why the hell are you so fucked.” He sighed to himself, slight anger in his voice.

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It was a cool, calm night. Perhaps too calm. Malakor hated when things got too quiet, too peaceful. Well, that was a partial lie. When he was motherf*ckin' high, he simply loved the peace, loved to just be close to others and talk about trivial things. He spent his high time mainly with his family, or with the girl he was destined to be bonded with and protect. Violet was her name, a pretty little thing, who simply adored him in every which why...ah, naive fool, she knows not of his true intentions when his mind was clear, when he was free from idle thoughts and free to actually be...hmm, more intelligent. Of course, now that his mind had been temporarily released from his "prescribed drugs", he would be far more tuned to his bestial side, the side that craved blood and destruction. How long, he wondered, would it be until his runt brother Arganok came to find him and forced those wretched drugs back into his system, forced him to become a bumbling idiot once more. Hopefully not for a long while, not until after he found himself a little play thing.

Malakor prowled through the park, a sneer creeping on his reptilian snout. He much preferred his true form when he was on the hunt. It made him far more intimidating, far more frightening. He was about the height of a rather large canine, with dark purple and black fur that covered his large canine and reptile hybrid body. Around his head was a large midnight colored mane, making him seem a little big larger still. He had long crooked fangs that jutted down from his snout, and a long tongue that flicked out and licked at his lips in anticipation about his next victim. His large clawed paws tread a little heavily in the grass, smashing the blades of grass beneath his massive paws. His mind was racing, his thoughts switching from cold thoughts like that of a serial killer, to his natural beast like thoughts of just simply tearing into something. He calmed his inner thoughts and shook his head, a grin appearing on his muzzle. "Now, now, no need to get worked up so soon hm?" He chuckled to himself, flicking his barbed tail in amusement before continuing forth.

It wasn't long until a fairly fresh scent wafted into the Oushaga male's nostrils. His eyes lit up in excitement, and his great jaw opened in a quiet laugh. "Perfect." Malakor purred to himself before padding onwards towards the delectable scent of human male. It only took a few moments before he found the suspected human curled beneath a tree, just begging to be played with by the likes of him. Another chuckled rumbled in his chest as he slithered towards the tree, making sure to hide behind it, out of sight from the male. The male spoke, his words amusing Malakor even further. He quietly shifted into his human form, a which he felt presented a very fitting look for him. Malakor was now a fairly tall, lanky looking human man, with dark hair with hints of a royal purple color tinting it. His eyes were an eerie golden orange, and shone with such a giddy madness it was unnerving.

Malakor chuckled once more, a little louder this time as he walked beside the tree. He didn't look at the male, not at first anyways."You're f*cked up? Believe me, there are people far worse off than you are." He said with a malicious grin, now looking down at the male, taking note of his injured wrist, and a strange musical object that he couldn't quite place a name for. Mal observed the male closely, eager to hear what he has to say.

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Preston obviously was unaware that a monstrous creature was stalking him a few yards away, a proficient predator and its pathetic prey unable to escape its fate. The human naturally grew nervous at nightfall so as chills traveled along his spine as Malakor drew close, he believed it was just nerves screaming at him to ditch this haunting place. For a moment he almost listened, however another voice crept behind him like a phantom and Preston jumped in shock from this stranger’s silent approach. He had not been aware that someone else wandered this dark streets. The man portrayed something that made Preston’s skin crawl and his stomach churned in terror; he was never one to judge on appearances but it was difficult not to do so with this mysterious man.

Preston rose to his feet, quietly addressing the man’s presence. “Ah, y-yes I’m sure. I apologize I did not realize there was someone else here.” The fear boiling in his belly continued to escalate as he observed this peculiar man. Was he human? Was he supernatural? Why would he approach Preston if he was? Maybe he knew Vergil? That’s impossible, Vergil wouldn’t have been on the street starved if he had an accomplice, besides you know he prefers to be alone and away from others. He muttered to himself, his bright azure eyes darting every direction nervously. Preston attempted to present himself in a more orderly fashion for he did not want to portray such rude behaviors but this man... it felt like he meant harm. However, was Preston just paranoid from his encounter in Vixen’s Keep?

Preston began to mumble softly, voice cracking. “I-I’m sorry for any offense to that comment, I’m usually not such an emotional bum.” He tried to give a heart-warming grin but it came off as his famous weary half-smile. “What are you doing h-here tonight? Taking in the night air... I suppose?” His instincts were hollering for him to run away but from the looks of this individual there was no chance of escape. He would try to leave slowly and hopefully deter this man from doing anything to him. “T-The name is Preston... what is yours sir?” He had none of his belonging with him but if he was to escape, he would rather do it without his objects pulling him down especially with a wounded wrist.

Please don’t hurt me... please just be a misunderstanding. He tried to reassure himself but it was not working.