9th Spring 513AV
East Street
Midnight
The liberty at which we love, lust and weep
The innocent... no one truly is innocent
What of the love for men?
There are lusts in this world which breech the borders of human understanding. Those lusts are known only to those who serve a darker purpose. I am no evil, I'm just lost.
These cravings of his were insatiable, adamant and relentless. Sure he had felt compelled to do many things in his youth. Many really stupid things, just coss he could. Never, however, had it bent his difficult to simply shake off these feelings. Never ever had he lingered on the verge where his lunger blinded him. Yet now, somehow, things were different. Now, within this new existence of his - it seemed Valo felt like a child again, as if he didn't really know the world, exploring it with wide eyes awe. Everything suddenly felt so new and there was certain bliss in this rush of exploration - there were untold dangers within that mind of him. One slip up was all that was needed to completely loose his self control and succumb to that craving.
To find something beautiful. To witness it, to see it and touch it and then to break it, destroy it, stomp it into the earth until there was nothing left.
In this new existence of his, there was both servitude and freedom. For often he found his head clouded by thought he had never expected to be his. Often his eyes were those of a beast. He was the chained one, forever serving a master greater than him. But his master was beloved and Valo was border lining religious fanaticism in his thanks and reverence of Uldr. The chains did not quite register as a curse just yet and his mind was intoxicated with this blessing that shrouded the curse.
Freedom was what he called it and though many people would beg to differ, Valo saw nothing but freedom in his new constitution and his new mentality. yes, some would think him foolish for such a take. Some would see no value in what this freedom was to the artist. His entire life he had moulded and shaped himself to fit a certain mould. A gentleman, is what he thought himself to be, relinquishing the notions of hate and unpleasantness. Never allowing himself the liberty of simple human feelings like greed. Perhaps this was the reason he so often found himself in trouble when a mere child, revelled in the company of courtesans when he left Wind Reach. A way to simply relieve that humanity which he foolishly deprived himself of in the search of something greater.
Those thoughts perpetuated within him now. No fear of hate, for hate had saturated his heart so very deeply. The heart which no longer beat. Greed was no stranger. There was no need to cast those emotions away but revel in them like he had never felt before. Emotional freedom, so very precious to him. Of course Valo had been set in his ways so very much that the true manifestation of these newly understood things in physical form would take time. But he was hopeful, exultant of the days to come.
With a curve of a smile upon his lip, the artist mused in peace, propped against the wall somewhere, tucked into a shady corner of East Street. Had he the eternity at the tips of his fingers? So much could be achieved in eternity, so many skills perfected. he could watch the rise and fall of civilisations. His art would surpass any other. So pleasant it all seemed, no fear of remaining youthful whilst his friends aged and died. No concern of the love and loss of lovers. Shrouded by the shadows, lingering beneath his dark cloak he mused in peace.
No sleep for the dead
It was just after midnight, in the serene silent hum of Zeltiva's streets, that a beautiful sight had caught the eye of the undead artist. A woman, perhaps in her mid 30s, though age had been nothing but kind to her, thus for moments, fooled by the radiance of her cheeks as if her face itself was the moon, the luscious scarlet of her lips, the waist of 18 inches dressed in simple clothing of linen, he could have thought she was barely older than him. A physical manifestation of symmetric beauty, created abiding the rulles of anatomy with utmost perfection. A wish within the artist to scar that beauty and ruin it. He couldn't really explain where that wish came from, but so very difficult it was to cast from himself.
It seemed he had been in the way between her and her house. But why would a woman of her beauty walk alone at this ungodly hour? And in this part of the city indeed, such foolishness. She could get hurt or worse, she could run into someone terrible... someone like Valo himself.
"Good evening sir." she smiled as she passed him. A floral smile of her rosy lip. A honest naivety in those soulful, doh like eyes of hers.
Valo did honour her pleasantnesses with a reply. Foolish woman, he thought, looking at her from beneath the hood of his cloak. Red eyes pinned into her with curiosity and something else. Vicious cruelty, lust that bubbled up inside him, steaming from him. A radiating chill from his skin. He gazed upon her face, so gentle and feminine, for petite she was. The subtle lines about her eyes, the rich blue hues, entwined with green specks, all meshed together into a vibrant concoction. If she had been touched by last season's pestilence, it sure wasn't present in her now, now was there any trace of it. A vigorous woman. The way she hopped from cobble to cobble as if her feet never touched the floor. The whimsical nature of her movement. A woman who was the aesthetic depiction of kindness. Kindness he would regrettably, if only just, lay waste in the dirt of the cobbles.
When does one truly become a killer? At first kill, at second? When murdering in self defence, or in defence of others? When taking the lives of the innocent? And if so then how does one know who is innocent and who is not? Perhaps she too, somewhere down the line, far off in the future,could become a monster the likes of him? Alas, no one would ever have suspected the darling red haired artist to inhabit such an existence as this. Surely what he was doing was a sin, and committed in almost full knowledge of that. And if so, than was his sin greater? Had he lost his humanity completely? Or were there specks, if only specks of humanity left.
Warmth covered his fingers. A warm liquid, covering his hands, sticky against his skin. And what was this object in his hand? A dagger. A blade. And what was it doing, thrust forward in such a fashion? Was there something impaled at it's very tip? Was it the woman. His mind did not register, animal instincts simply overtook. In that break of a moment, the artist had momentarily lost control over his craving and this now was the result. As if awaking from a dream. One day he would need to control these cravings better, but for now, it was too late. Too late indeed.
Inexplicably now, he was shaking, trembling. Eyes wide open, the mask of horror painted upon his face as he came to terms with what happened. Fear striking him, fear of being discovered. The weapon left in the woman, having pierced straight though her vitals. Abandoning her sprawled awkwardly on the pavement, drowning in a pool of her won blood with no one to her her dead screams. Soon someone would find her. Very soon would flock to the sight to witness this brutality. By then however, he was long gone.
The deed took mere moments, before he could simply stand it no longer. Writhing this monster was a soul of a man who had yet to learn his monstrous ways. But every kill would prove easier, every life taken a little more enjoyable. Soon enough he'd be fit to serve Uldr. For Valo, it was merely a matter of time. Having fled for the safety of his residence in East Street, Valo battled with his emotion. Part of him screamed in terror. Once again he killed, once again he had taken the life undeserving. It was almost unfathomable how he could so simply commit such a monstrosity. Part of him however understood it was inevitable. Thus he slipped into simple acceptance, banished the thought, left it for another day. Sleep would be good right about now, if he had the liberty to sleep. But in absence of such, there was little he could do to prevent these ghosts from haunting him again.
East Street
Midnight
The liberty at which we love, lust and weep
The innocent... no one truly is innocent
What of the love for men?
There are lusts in this world which breech the borders of human understanding. Those lusts are known only to those who serve a darker purpose. I am no evil, I'm just lost.
These cravings of his were insatiable, adamant and relentless. Sure he had felt compelled to do many things in his youth. Many really stupid things, just coss he could. Never, however, had it bent his difficult to simply shake off these feelings. Never ever had he lingered on the verge where his lunger blinded him. Yet now, somehow, things were different. Now, within this new existence of his - it seemed Valo felt like a child again, as if he didn't really know the world, exploring it with wide eyes awe. Everything suddenly felt so new and there was certain bliss in this rush of exploration - there were untold dangers within that mind of him. One slip up was all that was needed to completely loose his self control and succumb to that craving.
To find something beautiful. To witness it, to see it and touch it and then to break it, destroy it, stomp it into the earth until there was nothing left.
In this new existence of his, there was both servitude and freedom. For often he found his head clouded by thought he had never expected to be his. Often his eyes were those of a beast. He was the chained one, forever serving a master greater than him. But his master was beloved and Valo was border lining religious fanaticism in his thanks and reverence of Uldr. The chains did not quite register as a curse just yet and his mind was intoxicated with this blessing that shrouded the curse.
Freedom was what he called it and though many people would beg to differ, Valo saw nothing but freedom in his new constitution and his new mentality. yes, some would think him foolish for such a take. Some would see no value in what this freedom was to the artist. His entire life he had moulded and shaped himself to fit a certain mould. A gentleman, is what he thought himself to be, relinquishing the notions of hate and unpleasantness. Never allowing himself the liberty of simple human feelings like greed. Perhaps this was the reason he so often found himself in trouble when a mere child, revelled in the company of courtesans when he left Wind Reach. A way to simply relieve that humanity which he foolishly deprived himself of in the search of something greater.
Those thoughts perpetuated within him now. No fear of hate, for hate had saturated his heart so very deeply. The heart which no longer beat. Greed was no stranger. There was no need to cast those emotions away but revel in them like he had never felt before. Emotional freedom, so very precious to him. Of course Valo had been set in his ways so very much that the true manifestation of these newly understood things in physical form would take time. But he was hopeful, exultant of the days to come.
With a curve of a smile upon his lip, the artist mused in peace, propped against the wall somewhere, tucked into a shady corner of East Street. Had he the eternity at the tips of his fingers? So much could be achieved in eternity, so many skills perfected. he could watch the rise and fall of civilisations. His art would surpass any other. So pleasant it all seemed, no fear of remaining youthful whilst his friends aged and died. No concern of the love and loss of lovers. Shrouded by the shadows, lingering beneath his dark cloak he mused in peace.
No sleep for the dead
It was just after midnight, in the serene silent hum of Zeltiva's streets, that a beautiful sight had caught the eye of the undead artist. A woman, perhaps in her mid 30s, though age had been nothing but kind to her, thus for moments, fooled by the radiance of her cheeks as if her face itself was the moon, the luscious scarlet of her lips, the waist of 18 inches dressed in simple clothing of linen, he could have thought she was barely older than him. A physical manifestation of symmetric beauty, created abiding the rulles of anatomy with utmost perfection. A wish within the artist to scar that beauty and ruin it. He couldn't really explain where that wish came from, but so very difficult it was to cast from himself.
It seemed he had been in the way between her and her house. But why would a woman of her beauty walk alone at this ungodly hour? And in this part of the city indeed, such foolishness. She could get hurt or worse, she could run into someone terrible... someone like Valo himself.
"Good evening sir." she smiled as she passed him. A floral smile of her rosy lip. A honest naivety in those soulful, doh like eyes of hers.
Valo did honour her pleasantnesses with a reply. Foolish woman, he thought, looking at her from beneath the hood of his cloak. Red eyes pinned into her with curiosity and something else. Vicious cruelty, lust that bubbled up inside him, steaming from him. A radiating chill from his skin. He gazed upon her face, so gentle and feminine, for petite she was. The subtle lines about her eyes, the rich blue hues, entwined with green specks, all meshed together into a vibrant concoction. If she had been touched by last season's pestilence, it sure wasn't present in her now, now was there any trace of it. A vigorous woman. The way she hopped from cobble to cobble as if her feet never touched the floor. The whimsical nature of her movement. A woman who was the aesthetic depiction of kindness. Kindness he would regrettably, if only just, lay waste in the dirt of the cobbles.
When does one truly become a killer? At first kill, at second? When murdering in self defence, or in defence of others? When taking the lives of the innocent? And if so then how does one know who is innocent and who is not? Perhaps she too, somewhere down the line, far off in the future,could become a monster the likes of him? Alas, no one would ever have suspected the darling red haired artist to inhabit such an existence as this. Surely what he was doing was a sin, and committed in almost full knowledge of that. And if so, than was his sin greater? Had he lost his humanity completely? Or were there specks, if only specks of humanity left.
Warmth covered his fingers. A warm liquid, covering his hands, sticky against his skin. And what was this object in his hand? A dagger. A blade. And what was it doing, thrust forward in such a fashion? Was there something impaled at it's very tip? Was it the woman. His mind did not register, animal instincts simply overtook. In that break of a moment, the artist had momentarily lost control over his craving and this now was the result. As if awaking from a dream. One day he would need to control these cravings better, but for now, it was too late. Too late indeed.
Inexplicably now, he was shaking, trembling. Eyes wide open, the mask of horror painted upon his face as he came to terms with what happened. Fear striking him, fear of being discovered. The weapon left in the woman, having pierced straight though her vitals. Abandoning her sprawled awkwardly on the pavement, drowning in a pool of her won blood with no one to her her dead screams. Soon someone would find her. Very soon would flock to the sight to witness this brutality. By then however, he was long gone.
The deed took mere moments, before he could simply stand it no longer. Writhing this monster was a soul of a man who had yet to learn his monstrous ways. But every kill would prove easier, every life taken a little more enjoyable. Soon enough he'd be fit to serve Uldr. For Valo, it was merely a matter of time. Having fled for the safety of his residence in East Street, Valo battled with his emotion. Part of him screamed in terror. Once again he killed, once again he had taken the life undeserving. It was almost unfathomable how he could so simply commit such a monstrosity. Part of him however understood it was inevitable. Thus he slipped into simple acceptance, banished the thought, left it for another day. Sleep would be good right about now, if he had the liberty to sleep. But in absence of such, there was little he could do to prevent these ghosts from haunting him again.
It will be interesting to watch him progress. I have this whole 'serial killer/stalker' vibe for him going on, but Im not sure where you are going with your character yourself. Have fun with him 
