There was little more to do as a poltergeist than trail blood and carve scars. And as such it was an occupation that Vito thoroughly enjoyed and rarely strayed from. For despite his frequent complaints of the lifestyle he led, there were a great number of perks to being a blood lusting son of a Jack, and on many an occasion Vito exploited said benefits with the consistency of the swaying of a mood. The less fortunate were always losing themselves along Knockturn Alley's winding banks, after all. And as King of the Alley, Vito saw to it that none of said travelers were left to aimlessly wander his streets. Most certainly not so late in the evening.
A lost soul screamed so ear piercingly as to rattle a near door sign, which read: Sorry, We're Open.
"Shshshsh," Vito cooed with a smirk that twisted and wound in a sight quite nauseating to behold.
A second scream; louder than the first. More tortured and desperate.
"Be quite, whore, I'm only retouching your roots," Vito replied as he tore from the young blonde's skull another thick patch of her bloodied scalp. And without turning from the woman whom he held so mercilessly against one of the vacant apothecary's surrounding walls, Vito addressed his newly obtained audience (cue; Hitamé), "Hello dollface, take a look, have a seat, and I'll be rrrright with you," He purred.
Last edited by Vito Dee Symons on Fri Jun 29, 2012 4:48 pm; edited 1 time in total