"You hear them too?" Taylor/Killer {Open}

Sinuous shadows cloaked the mystery of Hogwarts. He hunted, always. Even in the moments when his madness didn’t grip him, the moments of clarity when sanity was just within grasp, the moments that he could find rest, he hunted. The corridors of the vast castle were no different than the corridors of the forests of his home. Immense columns could be trees, the whisper of portraits the wind in the branches. The students were amusing little playthings, as were their so called teachers. The killer hunted equally just for the pleasure of hunting.

As of late, the game had gotten more complicated. Nobody travelled alone anymore. They still weren’t looking in the right direction to find him, but it was nearly impossible to find prey so deliciously alone.

Voices. There were voices. No, a voice responding to unheard conversations. Did he not experience the same things in his near-slumber? Accusations from the past of not doing enough...recriminations for going too far...mercy cries that always always haunted...No! Please, God no! These humans must not serve a merciful deity if it allowed those such as him to prowl among the flocks of humanity. But no matter. Curiosity was piqued. The killer was, for the first time in many days, curious.

Stealthily, silently, invisibly he approached and whispered.

“You hear them too?”

Perhaps she would not answer the unseen eyes watching her. Likely, common sense would overtake her and she would run back to the sunlit corridors, the teachers, the people that would provide her the protection of the herd. After all, what gazelle would speak to the alligator? What deer would converse with a lion? Perhaps she would, though. What would a lion say to a deer? What would an alligator say in his smile to the unwary gazelle? Nothing. He would wait.

In his waiting, the figure drew close. She smelled different. Pungent in a way, sweet in another. Her flavor was intriguing, but unappetizing. The nuances reminded him of the mind altering drugs so popular three decades long passed. Did she partake of the muggle potions that caused madness? Was it intrinsic within her to smell like pharmaceuticals? Interesting and curious.

The killer smiled an unseen flash of fangs. The shadow oozed through the hallway, concealed by the darkness that permeated the castle. From Taylor's other side came another whisper.

"But are you so sure that I will not hurt you?"

That was the number one question, wasn't it? People were concerned about not hurting others, about staying correct and true to the false little rules that society created. When someone came along who was independent of those rules, nobody knew what to do. It was unthinkable to take power. It was unforseen to exploit and harm. The killer was one of those who was outside the boundaries intrinsically created by nature in the minds of social creatures. Where pthers saw the need for community and getting along, he saw only opportunities to kill, destroy, and ravish.

Nobody thought that was possible. Nobody guarded themselves against the horrors that went bump in the night. It was assumed that no harm would occur if no offense was given. That was pure and simple logical fallacy, now wasn't it? An unseen hand reinforced that thought by hovering inches away from the girl's unseeing face. He could kill her right now. Or he could play.

Or both.

The killer smiled when a moment of inspiration struck him. Instead of killing her, he could have the most delicious form of fun. This girl was what the others would label as 'crazy' because her mind spoke to her in an unusual way. The documented phenomenon of hearing voices would only detract from her credibility as his...puppet? No, prophet. Who better to speak the words of one insane than one who is labeled thus already? All he needed to do was convince her of what she was so desperately trying to convince herself. He could only hear half of her internal conversation, but what more was needed to be heard?

"You're right...he is lying. And he is sneaking. Why...I can't see him or hear him, so what does he have to hide? And why would he be hiding things from you?"

The killer backed away from the girl, all the way to the other wall so that when he appeared, it wouldn't be within the range of his whispers. Illusions of closeness were only as maintainable as her mind would allow. The shadows dropped from the hooded form and revealed the alabaster mask that was blank and expressionless. He gave a small wave to the girl that consisted of two fingers fluttering. It was improbable, familiar, and absurd.

"I don't hide, unlike certain others, right my dear?"

He sounded smug and confident. She was no harm to him but held the potential of being great fun.

The figure advanced slowly, flickering in and out of view every few seconds. He stopped a few feet from the girl and crouched down to her level. The figure was exceedingly angular posed like this. With his elbows on his knees and expressionless mask canted at a curious angle, the figure looked humorous.

"What would you call me? Some say I am Death. Some say I am a Harbinger of things to come. Some say I don't exist at all. What, if I may be polite, is your name?"

The emphasis on politeness would throw her off...she smelled of panic and fear. Who treated her like she was normal? Who treated her as if she were safe to be around, or welcomed, or wanted? This type of play was rare for the killer. If he ever chose someone to be his mouthpiece, they were under tight control and scrutiny. The girl would be harmless. Nobody would believe her ravings of a monster.

He offered her a hand in greeting.

She queried again, almost accusing him. She was used to being answered, this one. She had no fear of being different, no fear of seeming odd as she gripped his spidery hand. The glint of eyes behind his alabaster mask betrayed his shifting glance. He would not be caught because of her, but that determination relied on an awareness of what was occurring around him.

"Taylor....from 'taliare' which means to cut...are you strong enough to cut your ties to what you can see in favor of the curiosities in the dark? You are most persistent in knowing my name, my dear. I am Mr. White."

The canny old killer held a strong belief that names had power. The culture in which he was raised reinforced that by allowing a child to claim only a family name until they proved themselves. He had been named after an aspect of Death, similar to many in his clan. It was their trade, their hobby, their life. The name he had given the girl was, because of his cultural belief, nowhere near his given name.

"Would you like to know a secret, Taylor?"

The old thing crossed his arms in front of himself while keeping his elbows braced on his knees. He hunched his shoulders and peered out from his white ensemble.

The girl had a backbone after all! Mr. White leaned forward and whispered the next part to her. He had to put his finger tips to the floor and crouch to keep from toppling over in his excitement to share his secret.

"Oh yes. There shall be even more death soon. He will be skinned alive and left to die in the cold."

The figure leaned back and rocked onto his heels, standing in a smooth motion with the momentum. He stepped backwards and away from Taylor. Slowly, he backed away step by step. The killer brought one hand up, index finger extended. The motion settled over the mask's nonexistent mouth. From the increasing distance, the eye slits became nothing more than a judgmental hooded stare.

"Shhhh....you don't want to tell people that and have them think you're crazy, do you? After all...you're not a Seer, just a poor little crazy girl."

The figure disappeared again. This would be the prime game. After the murder, he would appear to her again and berate her for not saying anything to anyone in charge. She would be able to prevent the death, but unwilling. Caught from every side, tortured by what she believed to be her own fragmenting mind....he could live off of this type of psychological torture. Would this new toy bend or break? Would he create such a misery in her that he'd need to end it? Would she end it herself? How far could he push her? This would be delightful!

Two days later, Great Hall (ooc it appears you need to return to the first post and reapply the date stamp)

Guards Delaney and Middleton set a firm perimeter around their three cohorts bringing in yet another body. This one was loosely wrapped in a student's black robes, albeit shredded and bloodied. Under that, though, was nothing but muscle, bone, guts, and blood. Only the face was left unmolested, but the sheer agony and pallor were horror enough. Whoever was committing these murders had no humanity.

I can't wait until we catch this sonnuvabitch and string him up for the Dementors... Delaney's scowling face under her short dark hair only added to her 'keep away' body language. She hated what this monster was doing to her alma mater...she'd graduated the same year as Ulrich, had History of Magic with him, in fact. She'd been a Gryffindor and had followed her adventuring bravery into the Guard. Her short cherry wood wand was held at the ready in her gloved hand as the body slid passed her under the Locomotor spell. The remains of a Hufflepuff tie peeked sadly from the bloody mess that was once a student. His dark hair and wide, hazel eyes would be the main identifying features for this poor boy...Delaney couldn't help but stare as he went by. Those eyes would definitely be someone's clue to who this used to be. That shade of gold and hazel just wasn't that common. Odd that so much violence was shown to the body and yet identifying features were left unscathed.

Her jaw set one more time, determined to do her job and protect the students. Her mind couldn't let goof the details. It was almost as if the killer WANTED the body identified. Was he trying to send a message to someone? Was he just playing more cruel games? Why was Hufflepuff so resoundingly targeted by this killer?Unfortunately, someone at her paygrade would likely never get the full story until they read it in the Prophet.