Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Prayers of the Fallen ❯ Feeding The Beast ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 5: Feeding the Beast

Such a strange creature. The smell was gone, it had only lingered an instant, and in self-preservation no less. The smell that signalled to him who was free game and who was worthy for further study. Fear. Yes, it was the smell of fear that drove him o his worst of crimes against God. Sins committed for the love of others' pain and to see the fear in their eyes, the fear pulling their faces in all directions, the fear that made them scream and finally realize, even if too late, that they have been forsaken.

But not her. She had been fearful only a brief moment in time. Surprised, again, self-preservation. She was no longer afraid of him. No, she was afraid of something else. Something within herself, he assumed. Yes, she was the cause of her own fear. Yes, definately a strange creature.

He sat in his 'good' room. It was the room with the bed. There was nothing else though, no dresser, no closet - all his clothes being kept in the coset in the hall - nothing he could hurt himself with. The walls were padded as well. They were taking no chances. Nothing to hurt himself with, or so they thought. He always had a blade of some kind hidden in the wall, someplace they least expected one to be.

He was amused slightly that he was in this room and not his other room, the one that he was strung up in from time to time. He had been earlier, serving punishment for his little crussade against the Liar earlier that day. But Schuldig had come in for him after an hour or so, saying the Crawford had left. He knew that the redheaded telepath cared for him, and he felt a certain affection for the man as well, if affection is what you could call it. Maybe it was something more akin to respect. The man was fearless, unscrupulous in battle and devilishly mischievious. He was also a good companion, when wasn't ranting about meaningless rubbish.

But the bathroom. It was in the bathroom that he had seen that fear again. The loud German had been going off about the 'mess' he had made, and she was staring at him, at his bloodied arm and clothes. There had been an immense fear there, a near self-loathing. Curious. But before that, there had been a longing. He had smelt it before he even saw her. An overwhelming desire - need - that had warned him to something's presence near. Very curious.

He looked down at the bandages that the young one, Nagi, had expertly wrapped around his fresh wounds. He had been annoyed. It was a nuisance for him to keep having to dress the Irishman's self-inflicted wounds. He didn't much like the young boy, he was an annoyance as well, always judgeing him and taking away his knives. He was no fun.

The wounds. It was something having to do with his blood that had drawn the new presence; the girl that had just shown up. The girl who had no fear of him. She was a puzzle indeed; the answer to which lay somewhere inside. Maybe disembowlment was in order. He smiled wildly, excited by the idea of ripping into someone.

A bird cried outside, as if someone were strangling it. He walked over to his small, double-barred window and looked out into the street. There was someone outside.


***


She had temporarily escaped from the house of Schwarz. She needed to feed. This morning's little incident had been too much for her. She hadn't been able to be take even one step out of her room, the smell of the blood was too strong, and the Thirst would only drive her to attacking one the members of the house, and she couldn't risk that. So this was what she had resorted to; hunting stray animals, and presently, the mourning-dove that was pirched on a branch a few feet from her own.

She sat quietly, waiting for its little heart to calm with sleep, then she grabbed for it, quick as lightening, gripping its head and tearring it clear off. This was what she needed to calm the beast inside, the curse she was damned to see through to the end.

She hungrily sucked on the exposed bleeding arteries of the birds neck. Her inner demon laughing at her once again succumbing to its desires. But for the moment she didn't care. Let the disgust come later, her blood taunted, let the self-loathing rip at your conscience later, for now, be what it is in your nature to be - Sanguinarius.

Once she felt her gluttenous Thirst subside, she dropped the birds body, its weight thudding as it hit the grass below. Her face was covered with blood, her hands as well. This was her secret, this was her curse. Oh how she hated herself right then.

She looked up to the house - the house that she should be in right then - and saw what she had been dreading. There was someone in the window. It was the barred window, the window of...

There staring at her, an ever so slight smile pulling at one corner of his lips, amber eye full of amusement and morbid underanding, was Farfarello. She was exposed.