(...and mild language! Haha, okay, sort of. This takes place after some creepy secret santa gift exchange rp. In a butcher shop, no less.)
Nearly sundown over Westfall’s dry fields, and a scream broke out over the wheat-colored grass. Dust clouds swirled as the oversized boar tore at the grass with its rough hooves, squealing in high-pitched fever in dumb, unexplainable agony. The torment only ended when the axe blade cleaved through its head, halving the small brain it contained. Twitching its last upon the grass, the demon spat upon the lesser creature, towering formidably over the corpse…and its mistress.
“It is done, weakling.” The felguard muttered out disdainfully to the petite human. No doubt he thought of doing the same to her as he had done to the pig. Instead, his eyes dropped to the gouge wounds in her side. “How pitiful you are. This beast’s tusks can hardly scratch my own body, and you limp like a diseased flesh bag.” The demon sneered, his thick fingers curling around his axe tightly. “Allow me to help put you out of your misery.”
Anisse kept her scathing gaze on the demon. Of the imp and the void walker, she hated this new one the most, some queer embodiment of unfathomable rage and violence. They seemed to exist to test her reign over her own emotion, to tempt it out, and lose control. The imp was a coward, but a greedy coward, and more than once had the thing argued its own sense into her. The void walker simply made her hate the world. Perhaps more than the Twilight Hammer could have--it made her hate herself, her own actions.
But this creature, this muscle-bound demonic lout: it was the worst of them all.
It could look down on her, where its belittling words would make the most impact.
Anisse sauntered up to the demon, paying no mind to the wounds in her side, and the felguard locked eyes with her, this young mortal girl who would not be intimidated. Her small, slender hands pressed upon the metal of his axe head as it trembled with a violent desire to use. It could destroy her. Violate her small body and then rip it to shreds, add color to this bleak world with her entrails.
But the felguard would not dare move, staring into those cold, amber eyes.
“I have already taken your heart once, demon,” Anisse said very plainly. “How did it feel, waiting in agony for the magics of your world to repair what I did to you?” The warlock pressed up onto her toes, her slender hand lain upon the area where his small, beating heart pumped beneath. Her lips whispered with intention, soft, and biting with truth.
“I will gladly do it again before banishing you to the Netherworld, if you do not remain silent.”
The felguard’s eyes gleamed an enraged red, unphased by the threat. “Shove it up your hole, miserable little bi--”
The demon found it hard to speak his words with his lips sliced off. Shocked by the pain, the demon dropped its axe as a six-inch scalpel was driven through it’s eyeball, and pulled back out. The bloody eye now sat upon Anisse’s blade like a pickled, large olive. She whispered in demonic quickly as the felguard toppled to its knees, groaning in agony, and the hulking lump went stiff as the spell took hold. It sat, all of it’s body phased out of existence…except for its head. Raging in tongues unknown to its mistress, Anisse came closer, slowly pulling the impaled eyeball off of her renewed scalpel.
The thing just had to spoil her good mood, didn’t it? Winter’s Veil had not been too disappointing. She’d been lead to a butcher shop teeming with jars of gifts, and then let down with a written threat. Her benefactor was a confusing one, to be certain. The scalpel tasted more and more demonic face flesh as she thought on this, deaf to the felguard’s snarling screams. Is that what this little “game” boiled down to? A hunt? A promise to end her life? She sighed, prying the other eyeball out of the demon’s face, and slipping it onto her scalpel as well. She could not really say she was surprised, but she was disappointed. There were many in her lifetime that had wished to end her existence, after all. The hunt was always the same, in the end, with the same players.
They would die. Or they would move on to more “interesting sport.”
And nothing would be learned.
Anisse looked upon the bloody mess of the felguard’s face, and sighed, finally banishing the demon completely. This one would take time to be broken, and she was unsatisfied with her lack of focus during the breaking. Tying the demon’s torn eye-stalks together, she looked over the horizon. The sun had disappeared, and a chilled wind took over the sun scorched plains. She winced as she began to feel the sting of the gouging marks in her side, taken from the hulking boar. At least she was calm--the demon hadn’t gotten to her. She looked down at the pair of demonic eyeballs and smiled, wiggling them in her fingers, considering. It wasn’t a terrible day, and she had enough gold for a good bed.
The jars within her satchel clinked together as she limped, slowly, back to a place she could heal. The distinct, large eyeballs were left hanging off the branch of a dead tree.
And she cared not who found them first.
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