The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

Any of the beautiful moments that had been the result of their dancing or their kisses seemed to be shattered in the moment that Will's fingertips touched those raised scars on her back. Truly, he hadn't meant to startle her as he'd jumped back, and the way that her features twisted from the smile that he had so effortlessly coaxed from her to that guarded one. In an instant, they were strangers within that alleyway again. William hated it. "Vhalla," He said softly as his arms pulled her in close. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave. He was surprised at how much he was realizing that her simply running would hurt, and it was that that had him pulling the girl in close in an attempt to get her to talk to him. That her eyes narrowed at him made him wince. "I don't think you're flawless I..." He started as the girl finally wretched herself from his grasp.

Disobey orders? The Hunter's own gaze narrowed at the very idea of it. Someone giving her orders and she being forced to follow? That didn't match up to the strong, fiery girl that he was coming to know. And yet the evidence of what the girl had been through was presented so easily to him. There was no pity in his his eyes for her. No, Vhalla would not want his pity, and he would not give it to her. Instead there was a fiery rage burning in the pit of his stomach that someone would dare hurt her or try to control her. He'd just opened his mouth to speak when the door to the kitchen opened and the poor waiter was subjected to the way that the couple stood so awkwardly apart from one another. William's eyes were pointed on the man as he willed him to simply leave.

Finally, the kitchen door closed once more and while William would have loved to settle into those chairs with Vhalla and have sweet conversation while they ate, he knew that that had to be nearly impossible at the moment. He was positive that she would run and their plates would go untouched. His gaze drifted back from the kitchen door to the assassin, the man nearly wincing at the icy way that the beautiful girl glared at him. He remained silent as she gestured to the dress and insisted that this wasn't who she was. Even as she explained who she was, it was nothing that the Hunter couldn't accept or realize. After all, he'd known her true nature the instant he'd had his knife to her throat in that alleyway.

Assassin. Killer. Murderer.

The words applied to him as well.

"I know that," He spoke finally as he stepped forward then to put his hands on her arms, gently coaxing that she would look at him. Focus on him. "I know that, and I understand, Vhalla. I..." He hated her final statement. She'd spoke of a maker before, a master, and while he hadn't asked questions he could only assume that that was who had done this to her. He hated the idea of it, and yet Vhalla was a strong enough girl that she wouldn't want him to play savior. Instead, the man stepped back, letting out a nervous breath as he let his coat drop off his shoulders and onto one of the nearby chairs. He didn't look at her as he unbuttoned his shirt, turning only when he could slip it down and she could see the criss-cross of bladed scars across his pale skin.

He hesitated for only a moment before he pulled the shirt back up, turning to her. He buttoned his shirt once more before his eyes finally glanced up at her. "You're not the only one with demons, Vhalla. You're not the only one with a Master who used cruelty as a way to make a point," He reached out then to offer her a hand. "I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to, Vhalla. Please, come here."

But darling -- it's only human nature.