A sickening sound came from the darkness, what it was no one wants to know, but it was bone chilling. Then hands flew out from the shadows, ink mixing with blood as they wrote, not even the moonlight asking if it was his blood or not. Nor did it assume it was his blood even though his hands were shaking, the words not legible. Panting in the dark he didn't finish writing before the arms returned to the darkness the hands, severed, left on the book.
Then footsteps could be heard, fancy shoes, male. An elegant man, stiffed back, came walking out and sat down, flicking his wrist over the hands they disappeared. His long white hair was tied neatly back in a ponytail about mid neck, a few strands disobeyed the leather wrap and hung lightly in front of his piercing vanadinite eyes shown in the moonlight brightly as he was amused of what the hands wrote this time. "I don't think so, no on is to control me. I'm sure if they knew too they would agree, but till then, let me write for once." Looking over his shoulder to the shadow "Your right, their sad, but not that tragic." Glaring there was another awful noise in the dark then he looked back, flicking away the ink and quill as well as the latest entry. "I don't think I'll do that any time soon. Shifting his weight and adjusting his very elegant aristocratic suit, he pulled out a very ordinate pen "A gift from her lover. Works much better, less mess." as if he was talking to the shadow itself. "Let's see what shall I write....Ah. I know." bringing the beautiful pen down the ink flowed thick and beautiful under his guidance across the page.
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