M - daydream milk and genocide.

Haku Soul · 05-07-2010, 10:28 AM

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It made most sense to post first with Haku.

Kaena’s refusal to cooperate had always aggravated the dark creature peering out at the world from eyes draped in the most beautiful of blue. It was seldom he found gratefulness and wisdom within the mortals of this place, but he still held expectations to those who carried their own demons. Once he had been nothing more than a whisper within a young boy’s mind. Years. It had taken him years to regain even this little fragment of strength that he held currently. He could not be killed, but it had been proven that he could be crippled. In a world enveloped by flames there was no room for weakness. Evil had to survive on its own. Yet the ninth had risen at last and the crippled, mortal souls around him refused to acknowledge the truth residing behind this decaying creature of flesh. He would grant them death in the form of the mortal, but he wanted them to see; wanted them to know who had come to take them down below where all that existed was the misery they believed only existed in this despondent world.

The ability to shift had not yet left him, but the woman did not see his form bend and stretch. His scarred face watched her play her own little game with his daughter’s cooling corpse and he wondered what she could see in the red glistening surface of the pale girl’s organ. There were no rituals in Haku’s world. Mortals wanted to make death pretty. They believed in a different spirit world than his. They knew nothing. He was willing to let the woman do her thing; amusedly wondering what conclusions she was drawing from the still corpse. He was not a disbeliever though. Demons came in many forms and he knew that this woman as well as Lillith carried something beautiful inside. Some would call it ugly, but Haku had a different sense of beauty than most. He could see Eris like few others could. He would have been pleasantly surprised, had he known who her biological father was. Monsters were created by other monsters; this woman was bred for sweet insanity. She was sincere.

She saw him and he advanced without finding fear in her eyes. Blood was the loveliest of perfumes and his jaws parted instinctively to taste her flesh and blood, but his lust was not yet beyond his control. Her glistening red hand rose and without a second thought he offered his own, pushing against the bloodlust that wanted to rip her into a million pieces until all that existed was red, red, always that glorious red. Her palm was warm, but her veins told him about death; of angels and demons and something else he could not quite catch. They both felt fire. The monster wondered which one of his brothers she communicated with as her chartreuse eyes closed and saw all the things he could not. He watched her smooth face and pondered the unusual markings. He recognized them at once for what they were, and remembered back to a time with sun tanned bodies carrying those same symbols scarred neatly into their flesh. He had not been their god, but he had fed from them nevertheless. A pity they had walked the path of selfdestruction.

His fingers bended slowly and locked her hand in his; his claws digging into her soft and pulsing skin like a knife against soft butter. She would not run away from him. Brilliant blue eyes narrowed somewhat and a single word – a single name sounded. ”Kaena?”

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