15th Spring 513AV
East Street
Midnight
The death of those who would not be mourned.
Foolishness... everyone is mourned.
Even thieves and courtesans. Toys at the hands of cruelty.
Farya was both, a prostitute and a thief, though her delightful face often spoke a different tale. A girl of barely 19 years old, forced into this profession by the cruelty of fate. Her whole family buried beneath the soil of Mizahar. A jubilant, optimistic creature, she was. With eyes of crystal, rosy cheeks, always smiling in her pleasant manner. A charmer, a snake in sheep's skin for the cunning girl, quite contrary to her appearance, was anything but innocent. A life at the hands of others, partly detested yet partly thrilling for men desired her and men had money. With money she could buy whatever she wanted, thus with money she would buy her way out of these shackles. A positivity, a yearning for the brighter future which she so deeply believed to exist.
Night time was not her preferred time of day for Farya feared the ghosts of her imagination. Those that lingered behind every corner, hid behind every tree, ready to pounce at her. But return to East Street she must, for her client, drunk out of his wit, took longer than expected to succumb to the enticing threads of slumber and it was only then that she could take a little more than her salary and spirit away into the darkness, leaving the fool unaware of his loss. A self satisfied grin across her youthful feature, twenty gold mizas rattling in her pocket, bravery swelling in her chest. Every so often she'd look across her shoulder just to make sure no imaginary monster was fallowing her, but none was in sight. Farya would sleep soundly tonight, or so she thought.
Night time however had become the very favourite hour of day for a certain presence, who's ghostly form haunted the streets of Zeltiva. Shrouded by black, his scarlet hair - hair as red as hate - tied back haphazard beneath his clothing. Feature obscured. An eerie aura around him and those few unfortunate drunks who had the misfortune to witness this presence walking down the cobbled alleys at this ungodly hour, would scurry off like rats of the plague, away from the black ghost. He was a being otherworldly. A chosen one. A disciple to a cruel yet beautiful god.
Had Farya not lingered between the fingers of greed which manipulated her, she would not have been noticed by this dark mass that floated gracefully upon the cobbles. And her beauty would not have enticed him too, like it had every other customer of her's. Though his desire, though flared so easily, was of a different nature. A darker one. A billion insects buzzing in his head, a burning in his chest, a wish more powerful than any other. Unfathomable almost, a hunger for her flesh. Indeed, Valo couldn't really help himself at that point, for a part of him wished to simply impale her with knifes until she'd lay limp in his arms. The death of a flower. But, surprisingly indeed, the returned had more sense than that. Besides, the lead up to death was like the lead up to a kiss. Sweet anticipation before abrupt delight. He would revel in those prolonged moments, allow them to render his heart cold as stone, and equally as immobile. Chime by chime he would be overtaken by his own selfish and unjustified desire.
As she walked past him, not quite aware of his presence for he had lingered away from her view, tucked into the shadows of adjacent alleys, the man fallowed like a dog. Though quite unlike a dog, he kept a distance between them. A distance where her curvaceous silhouette would barely linger in sight, and his foot steps would not be heard. For too did he keep them quiet, stepping like a cat, a muffled softness upon the cobbles. Only the bleakest ruffle of his cloak, but in all honesty, Valo was not proficient at this predatory stalking down of his prey and as the girl turned into one of the smaller alleys from East Street, one wrong step caused her to spin abruptly in agitation. A fear of the monsters who would stalk her in the night, much like he did.
"Who are you?" she demanded at once with all the bravery her chest could bear. And the fact was such, that the command was imposing. A fearlessness within her. She was instantly frightened of the dark mass before her, an instantaneous response to that eerie aura which surrounded him.
With a degree of self composure, he wafted away that buzzing in his head. That craving was battled, pushed to the side, pulsing constantly but ignored with all his might. And truly might it was, for such craving was stronger than many of his instincts. With every moment it intensified.
And so he had been found out. Valo's lip curled upwards in a crescent of a smile from beneath his hood, before a deathly pale hand removed it all together, leaving the paper white feature to the street lamps. Scarlet hair strayed about him haphazard, as if he had not bothered to brush it for a while. Mischievously it danced before his eyes, obstructing their red hue to shine with such a magnitude as it otherwise would. For if she truly had not been observant at all, she might have mistaken that red of his eyes, to simply be the red of his hair instead. "It's just me. Hello Farya. I believe we haven't seen each other in a long time." A smile upon his lips, so pleasant against his chiselled face. That same warmth within his expression which she remembered from past seasons. Yet somehow he was different, very different, frighteningly different.
He gazed upon her with loving detachment. A strange look in within him, both warm and somehow absent, as if his mind had been lost to another world. Whilst this manifested in calm upon his face, within his head, Valo was all but calm. A struggle against the force that beckoned him to harm the woman. A force which would eventually overcome him in sweet surrendering. But for now, he studied her with care, gazed upon that beauty which she had been in spring, during their first encounter. That same youthfulness, as if she were a cherry blossom in full bloom. Skin of porcelain, smooth and carved like a doll, with the dearest hints of blush within her cheeks. A light sprinkling of freckles upon the bridge of her nose. He watched her closely as they conversed, taking in this sight. Eyes, the shape of almonds, crowned by luscious lashes, just ever so slightly close together, barely noticeable from the way her strawberry ringlets framed her face in luscious cascades.Those eyes, so very pale, a azure of blue as the morning sky during the clearest of days. The light of street lamps was reflected within those liquid surfaces, dancing like tongues of orange tinted flame. Still wide eyes, somewhat like a child. But that was only an illusion to mask the ambitious interior.
Indeed she knew this man, if ever so briefly. he had humoured her once, when he was little else than a newcomer to this town and a promiscuous, reckless youth. A good client, if only brief, before his wealth run out to his dismay. "Oh Valo." cried Farya with both delight and unease. Fond of him she had been, but there was something so very strange about him now. her instincts beckoned to flee. "Oh it truly has been too long. Might you be in need of my services again?" He had been so very handsome back then. Almost effeminate, androgynous. And so very polite, treated her with such respect even despite their business. A gem of a man, though his foolishness was undeniable. The skin of alabaster, but now he seemed paler, almost inhumanly. not pale but white, is if ill. And that lovely velvet hair of his too was not kept as pristine as she remembered. Was he in mourning, or ill? Had the plague taken a toll on him? Had life hurt him so that he relinquished that man he had once been?
Any guess on her behalf would have been a wrong one as she could not possibly fathom the fate that had befallen him. Yet Valo had remained as polite as always. "Forgive me if I started you." he smiled, proceeding towards her in his usual gentlemanly fashion. A memory which put her at ease, if only slightly, yet for some reason unknown to Fara, she wanted to draw this meeting to a close as quickly as it started. He however had different plans. "Come walk with me. Work had been keeping me so terribly busy that I haven't spoken to a single soul for days." every word was a lie. Every single one.
"Erm... I should really go home."
"But the night is young and so are we." When he spoke, his tone was almost pleading, unfathomably lonely. It struck a chord in the heart of the prostitute, rendered her feelings of great pity for him until she was torn. And though that tear, not wanting to appear rude as he never did, alas she succumbed to his pleas and took his arm as he offered. Though her eyes were planted into him with intent now and soon that alarming red of his was noticed. An alarming call, beckoning her to flee him at once. A fear resonating though her which she was a fool to ignore.
So very casually they strolled up the alley, alone and strangely peaceful, immersed in conversation. Very soon the questions came. Questions about his work to which he replied with long winded and vivid descriptions of art. Questions of his pale skin, to which Valo lied though his teeth, blamed it on illness. And alas the question of his eyes. A fear now manifesting within the girl, her hand slipping from him as those red spheres transfixed her. indeed she had no idea of the internal battle he was fighting with his craving. The wish to slice that beautiful face of her's. To leave scars by which she'd remember him forever. To that question however, Valo remained silent and that silence perpetuated her fear. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all.
Frozen in time, frozen in fear, engulfed by the still silence of Zeltiva's deserted, tiny alley. A man before her whom, for some unexplainable reason - or perhaps it was explainable; those eyes, that skin, the aura that surrounded him. She wanted to get as far away from the man as she could. The pleasant memories of him had been swept from her thought. The longer she stared at him, the more monstrous he seemed, the more frightening. And then those words came. Perhaps the only honesty that would fall from his lips, the only truths she'd hear before she could hear no longer.
The world became blurred. A soft chuckle from his lips. "I'm not precisely alive any more." he said, never once relinquishing that smile.
It was that moment in which everything suddenly spun into motion. A flash of movement which her confused and frightened mind barely comprehended and then there was nothing but pain that spread though her abdomen. A cry of pain from the girl's mouth, her body growing limp. Warm blood on her fingers. The world turned to grey, the granite architecture swayed from side to side before life was ripped from her. Like the porcelain doll which she was, now lacking animation, eyes open in horror, open forever gazing with plea to the soul of the man who took her life. But that man had no soul now. And so very young, Farya lay at his feet, eyes gazing blindly, never to know of the reason she was killed.
Scarlet eyes of sadness looked to her for moment in which the angel of her death towered above the girl, a dagger in his hand, trembling. Blank, he was. This wasn't a deed he enjoyed, the senseless murder of innocent - for to him, she was innocent. Such sins as promiscuity or theft had no bearing upon the greater canvas of the world. Material possession, lusts of the flesh, those were bleak. Existence was the ultimate currency. Time was the incentive, worth living or dying for. And he was not yet ready to relinquish his own existence, not to sell it or exchange it for Dira's dominion. Valo belonged to Uldr now, the beloved god who had saved him. And in the artist's eyes, this was salvation, even if it meant servitude for the rest of his days. Servitude gave him a reason so strong, a belonging in this world and the chance to truly become something of grotesque beauty. A living embodiment of expressionist art, gifted with those eyes which he had once saw in his youth. Eyes he had been so jealous of back then.
Yet there was something enticing about this cruel act. For beyond the grotesque slicing though flesh, the painful cries which he detested so, there was the sensation of power. Power over another being. The power to choose Farya's fate as if he was above her. Even a minion may wish for power. A rush of it all, a risk, adrenaline pumping though his veins; or at least it would if he had any blood to facilitate the movement. Ever since he was a child, Valo had been prone to risk taking behaviour but now this risk taking was stronger than ever. Some men may be enticed by money, but Mizas had less value than power to him.
That feeling was now stronger than ever. That craving, blinding Valo, blurring his thought. It overcame him, the killer in his lack of thought. Simply swept by the tides of hunger that had been bestowed upon him by the god to whom he now belonged, whom he adored so. And for moments in which he produced a smaller blade from his pocket, a sharper one. A wrist knife with which he allowed himself to relieve that craving, pressing it against the skin of her cheeks. Blood bubbling up from beneath the blade. Single, acute motions of the wrist. Valo's mind was blank, driven by pure instinct, before finally having the liberty to rip away from his victim. Leaving thin lines carved from the apples of her cheeks, all the way to the collar bones. Pale fingers, bloody beneath his cloak. Too much time he had spent here, a risk of being noticed too severe. Yet before pulling up to his feet again, the girl's money had somehow managed to make it's way into Valo's blood stained hands. Pickpocket of the dead.
Once again pulled the hood over his head and fled for the safety of his residence in East Street, before crowds would gather at the sight of yet another life laid waste to this monstrous city. The residue of the craving now subsiding, the farther he fled. A fear that perhaps he had lingered moments too long. That perhaps someone could have witnessed this barbaric act.
We may think that humanity bestows some greater morality upon us. That wit is the defiance of all those ugly qualities that linger within intelligent mind. But at our core, we are no noble creatures, but survivalists. And that striving to become better than we are leaves us greedy, striving to become better than the world. In greed there is cruelty and in cruelty there is sin. And what of those from whom their humanity had been stripped? For Valo was no longer human and his sin and his hunger is beyond his control. The power he held over another creature, in the moments she breathed her last jagged breaths. That power was intoxicating to him. A rush worth killing for. A rush worth dying for.
East Street
Midnight
The death of those who would not be mourned.
Foolishness... everyone is mourned.
Even thieves and courtesans. Toys at the hands of cruelty.
Farya was both, a prostitute and a thief, though her delightful face often spoke a different tale. A girl of barely 19 years old, forced into this profession by the cruelty of fate. Her whole family buried beneath the soil of Mizahar. A jubilant, optimistic creature, she was. With eyes of crystal, rosy cheeks, always smiling in her pleasant manner. A charmer, a snake in sheep's skin for the cunning girl, quite contrary to her appearance, was anything but innocent. A life at the hands of others, partly detested yet partly thrilling for men desired her and men had money. With money she could buy whatever she wanted, thus with money she would buy her way out of these shackles. A positivity, a yearning for the brighter future which she so deeply believed to exist.
Night time was not her preferred time of day for Farya feared the ghosts of her imagination. Those that lingered behind every corner, hid behind every tree, ready to pounce at her. But return to East Street she must, for her client, drunk out of his wit, took longer than expected to succumb to the enticing threads of slumber and it was only then that she could take a little more than her salary and spirit away into the darkness, leaving the fool unaware of his loss. A self satisfied grin across her youthful feature, twenty gold mizas rattling in her pocket, bravery swelling in her chest. Every so often she'd look across her shoulder just to make sure no imaginary monster was fallowing her, but none was in sight. Farya would sleep soundly tonight, or so she thought.
Night time however had become the very favourite hour of day for a certain presence, who's ghostly form haunted the streets of Zeltiva. Shrouded by black, his scarlet hair - hair as red as hate - tied back haphazard beneath his clothing. Feature obscured. An eerie aura around him and those few unfortunate drunks who had the misfortune to witness this presence walking down the cobbled alleys at this ungodly hour, would scurry off like rats of the plague, away from the black ghost. He was a being otherworldly. A chosen one. A disciple to a cruel yet beautiful god.
Had Farya not lingered between the fingers of greed which manipulated her, she would not have been noticed by this dark mass that floated gracefully upon the cobbles. And her beauty would not have enticed him too, like it had every other customer of her's. Though his desire, though flared so easily, was of a different nature. A darker one. A billion insects buzzing in his head, a burning in his chest, a wish more powerful than any other. Unfathomable almost, a hunger for her flesh. Indeed, Valo couldn't really help himself at that point, for a part of him wished to simply impale her with knifes until she'd lay limp in his arms. The death of a flower. But, surprisingly indeed, the returned had more sense than that. Besides, the lead up to death was like the lead up to a kiss. Sweet anticipation before abrupt delight. He would revel in those prolonged moments, allow them to render his heart cold as stone, and equally as immobile. Chime by chime he would be overtaken by his own selfish and unjustified desire.
As she walked past him, not quite aware of his presence for he had lingered away from her view, tucked into the shadows of adjacent alleys, the man fallowed like a dog. Though quite unlike a dog, he kept a distance between them. A distance where her curvaceous silhouette would barely linger in sight, and his foot steps would not be heard. For too did he keep them quiet, stepping like a cat, a muffled softness upon the cobbles. Only the bleakest ruffle of his cloak, but in all honesty, Valo was not proficient at this predatory stalking down of his prey and as the girl turned into one of the smaller alleys from East Street, one wrong step caused her to spin abruptly in agitation. A fear of the monsters who would stalk her in the night, much like he did.
"Who are you?" she demanded at once with all the bravery her chest could bear. And the fact was such, that the command was imposing. A fearlessness within her. She was instantly frightened of the dark mass before her, an instantaneous response to that eerie aura which surrounded him.
With a degree of self composure, he wafted away that buzzing in his head. That craving was battled, pushed to the side, pulsing constantly but ignored with all his might. And truly might it was, for such craving was stronger than many of his instincts. With every moment it intensified.
And so he had been found out. Valo's lip curled upwards in a crescent of a smile from beneath his hood, before a deathly pale hand removed it all together, leaving the paper white feature to the street lamps. Scarlet hair strayed about him haphazard, as if he had not bothered to brush it for a while. Mischievously it danced before his eyes, obstructing their red hue to shine with such a magnitude as it otherwise would. For if she truly had not been observant at all, she might have mistaken that red of his eyes, to simply be the red of his hair instead. "It's just me. Hello Farya. I believe we haven't seen each other in a long time." A smile upon his lips, so pleasant against his chiselled face. That same warmth within his expression which she remembered from past seasons. Yet somehow he was different, very different, frighteningly different.
He gazed upon her with loving detachment. A strange look in within him, both warm and somehow absent, as if his mind had been lost to another world. Whilst this manifested in calm upon his face, within his head, Valo was all but calm. A struggle against the force that beckoned him to harm the woman. A force which would eventually overcome him in sweet surrendering. But for now, he studied her with care, gazed upon that beauty which she had been in spring, during their first encounter. That same youthfulness, as if she were a cherry blossom in full bloom. Skin of porcelain, smooth and carved like a doll, with the dearest hints of blush within her cheeks. A light sprinkling of freckles upon the bridge of her nose. He watched her closely as they conversed, taking in this sight. Eyes, the shape of almonds, crowned by luscious lashes, just ever so slightly close together, barely noticeable from the way her strawberry ringlets framed her face in luscious cascades.Those eyes, so very pale, a azure of blue as the morning sky during the clearest of days. The light of street lamps was reflected within those liquid surfaces, dancing like tongues of orange tinted flame. Still wide eyes, somewhat like a child. But that was only an illusion to mask the ambitious interior.
Indeed she knew this man, if ever so briefly. he had humoured her once, when he was little else than a newcomer to this town and a promiscuous, reckless youth. A good client, if only brief, before his wealth run out to his dismay. "Oh Valo." cried Farya with both delight and unease. Fond of him she had been, but there was something so very strange about him now. her instincts beckoned to flee. "Oh it truly has been too long. Might you be in need of my services again?" He had been so very handsome back then. Almost effeminate, androgynous. And so very polite, treated her with such respect even despite their business. A gem of a man, though his foolishness was undeniable. The skin of alabaster, but now he seemed paler, almost inhumanly. not pale but white, is if ill. And that lovely velvet hair of his too was not kept as pristine as she remembered. Was he in mourning, or ill? Had the plague taken a toll on him? Had life hurt him so that he relinquished that man he had once been?
Any guess on her behalf would have been a wrong one as she could not possibly fathom the fate that had befallen him. Yet Valo had remained as polite as always. "Forgive me if I started you." he smiled, proceeding towards her in his usual gentlemanly fashion. A memory which put her at ease, if only slightly, yet for some reason unknown to Fara, she wanted to draw this meeting to a close as quickly as it started. He however had different plans. "Come walk with me. Work had been keeping me so terribly busy that I haven't spoken to a single soul for days." every word was a lie. Every single one.
"Erm... I should really go home."
"But the night is young and so are we." When he spoke, his tone was almost pleading, unfathomably lonely. It struck a chord in the heart of the prostitute, rendered her feelings of great pity for him until she was torn. And though that tear, not wanting to appear rude as he never did, alas she succumbed to his pleas and took his arm as he offered. Though her eyes were planted into him with intent now and soon that alarming red of his was noticed. An alarming call, beckoning her to flee him at once. A fear resonating though her which she was a fool to ignore.
So very casually they strolled up the alley, alone and strangely peaceful, immersed in conversation. Very soon the questions came. Questions about his work to which he replied with long winded and vivid descriptions of art. Questions of his pale skin, to which Valo lied though his teeth, blamed it on illness. And alas the question of his eyes. A fear now manifesting within the girl, her hand slipping from him as those red spheres transfixed her. indeed she had no idea of the internal battle he was fighting with his craving. The wish to slice that beautiful face of her's. To leave scars by which she'd remember him forever. To that question however, Valo remained silent and that silence perpetuated her fear. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all.
Frozen in time, frozen in fear, engulfed by the still silence of Zeltiva's deserted, tiny alley. A man before her whom, for some unexplainable reason - or perhaps it was explainable; those eyes, that skin, the aura that surrounded him. She wanted to get as far away from the man as she could. The pleasant memories of him had been swept from her thought. The longer she stared at him, the more monstrous he seemed, the more frightening. And then those words came. Perhaps the only honesty that would fall from his lips, the only truths she'd hear before she could hear no longer.
The world became blurred. A soft chuckle from his lips. "I'm not precisely alive any more." he said, never once relinquishing that smile.
It was that moment in which everything suddenly spun into motion. A flash of movement which her confused and frightened mind barely comprehended and then there was nothing but pain that spread though her abdomen. A cry of pain from the girl's mouth, her body growing limp. Warm blood on her fingers. The world turned to grey, the granite architecture swayed from side to side before life was ripped from her. Like the porcelain doll which she was, now lacking animation, eyes open in horror, open forever gazing with plea to the soul of the man who took her life. But that man had no soul now. And so very young, Farya lay at his feet, eyes gazing blindly, never to know of the reason she was killed.
Scarlet eyes of sadness looked to her for moment in which the angel of her death towered above the girl, a dagger in his hand, trembling. Blank, he was. This wasn't a deed he enjoyed, the senseless murder of innocent - for to him, she was innocent. Such sins as promiscuity or theft had no bearing upon the greater canvas of the world. Material possession, lusts of the flesh, those were bleak. Existence was the ultimate currency. Time was the incentive, worth living or dying for. And he was not yet ready to relinquish his own existence, not to sell it or exchange it for Dira's dominion. Valo belonged to Uldr now, the beloved god who had saved him. And in the artist's eyes, this was salvation, even if it meant servitude for the rest of his days. Servitude gave him a reason so strong, a belonging in this world and the chance to truly become something of grotesque beauty. A living embodiment of expressionist art, gifted with those eyes which he had once saw in his youth. Eyes he had been so jealous of back then.
Yet there was something enticing about this cruel act. For beyond the grotesque slicing though flesh, the painful cries which he detested so, there was the sensation of power. Power over another being. The power to choose Farya's fate as if he was above her. Even a minion may wish for power. A rush of it all, a risk, adrenaline pumping though his veins; or at least it would if he had any blood to facilitate the movement. Ever since he was a child, Valo had been prone to risk taking behaviour but now this risk taking was stronger than ever. Some men may be enticed by money, but Mizas had less value than power to him.
That feeling was now stronger than ever. That craving, blinding Valo, blurring his thought. It overcame him, the killer in his lack of thought. Simply swept by the tides of hunger that had been bestowed upon him by the god to whom he now belonged, whom he adored so. And for moments in which he produced a smaller blade from his pocket, a sharper one. A wrist knife with which he allowed himself to relieve that craving, pressing it against the skin of her cheeks. Blood bubbling up from beneath the blade. Single, acute motions of the wrist. Valo's mind was blank, driven by pure instinct, before finally having the liberty to rip away from his victim. Leaving thin lines carved from the apples of her cheeks, all the way to the collar bones. Pale fingers, bloody beneath his cloak. Too much time he had spent here, a risk of being noticed too severe. Yet before pulling up to his feet again, the girl's money had somehow managed to make it's way into Valo's blood stained hands. Pickpocket of the dead.
Once again pulled the hood over his head and fled for the safety of his residence in East Street, before crowds would gather at the sight of yet another life laid waste to this monstrous city. The residue of the craving now subsiding, the farther he fled. A fear that perhaps he had lingered moments too long. That perhaps someone could have witnessed this barbaric act.
We may think that humanity bestows some greater morality upon us. That wit is the defiance of all those ugly qualities that linger within intelligent mind. But at our core, we are no noble creatures, but survivalists. And that striving to become better than we are leaves us greedy, striving to become better than the world. In greed there is cruelty and in cruelty there is sin. And what of those from whom their humanity had been stripped? For Valo was no longer human and his sin and his hunger is beyond his control. The power he held over another creature, in the moments she breathed her last jagged breaths. That power was intoxicating to him. A rush worth killing for. A rush worth dying for.
