--the damned

[paradigm]

^{Disregard bitches, acquire currency}

I've always felt that the concept of silence is something that has escaped all but a precious few. Many have an idea of what silence is, but very few truly experience it. For even in an abandoned meadow there is sound, albeit faint. Throughout the course of my life, I've had many a goal and project to keep my attention. One, in particular, that I still strive to attain to this day is absolute silence.

Even now, it escapes, as her lifeless hand falls from edge of the bed to dangle mere inches above the floor. There are none left in the brothel who draw breath and none that will recall having seen a man with my features in the vicinity.

I can't recall any specific moment in my history where I took a life out of malice. I've killed many, yes, but who amongst my peers has not? I do not say this to pretend myself their better, but to clarify that the blood on my hands stains a shade darker than most. 'Xan the Demon' I was called by my kin, a name which I've kept. Understand that I do not bear the name out of a sense of pride, but out of nostalgia for a time since gone by.

These whores died out of necessity, for in order to accomplish what I intend the most necessary of items has to be attained: currency. That which makes any world spin round, is required no matter the time or place in order to attain what one wants. Scratch, coin, bank...it is all currency and it moves mountains. This particular whore had kept hers in a secret cupboard beneath a small ivory figurine.

I cannot imagine, nor do I want to know, what this bauble meant, for it means nothing now. A passing fancy from a trinket shop? A gift from a client? Or perhaps something far more sentimental. Regardless of it's origins it crumbles to dust, between my fingertips, with remarkable simplicity.

As I had made note of earlier, I take an interest in silence and it's constant attempts to allude me. The brick walls of the establishment and the sturdy nature of the windows insured whatever breeze passed outside will not contribute to the noises within. The only breath drawn is my own...steady and slow.

Thus the sound of foot steps against the hardwood floor is something I've little choice, but to attend to.

[Thoughtless Poet]

Blood. It covered the walls, it covered the floor...even the very air was filled with the ominous presence of blood. It gave a gritty feeling to his skin as the black-haired man stepped cautiously through the desolate halls of the once-lively brothel. His quilled hair was dusted back with each pace of his feet, his chocolate eyes staring deeply around the hall before him, but at nothing in particular. The tanned tone of his skin was a stark contrast to the red brick that paneled the building, but the slick texture that coated each inch made his skin feel like boiling and bubbling. Someone had brought Hell to this place, and recently.

His heavy steps were a rhythmic metronome to the otherwise silent corridor, as though fate were keeping time to some pending affair or confrontation. His black trench coat fluttered back as he walked, as though the cloak of the reaper come to collect the souls of those recently departed. After gazing silently about the remaining doorways that lined either side of the path ahead of him, the man turned his focus towards a room near the back of the building. The only room whose door was shut. The only door with bloodstains on the handle. Approaching the frame, the slender man stood still...his face, expressionless as he looked not at the door, but seemingly through it, as though waiting for something - or someone.

[paradigm]

I don't rush over the corpses, dirtying my boots will accomplish nothing and expedient movement is rarely in the same ballpark as silence. I keep to the shadows, as I always have, eyes peering for the unlucky fool who has wandered in.


Unlike many of my peers, I am not predisposed to killing all in my path, merely those who threaten the sanctity of my existence. As I have mentioned before, I have crossed paths with the so called 'Guardians' of several realities and their blood my hands remain unstained. Thus it should not come as a surprise that I do not intend to kill the interloper, at least not yet.

It is not with hesitance that I traverse forward, but with lightened steps and a preparedness that comes with years of interactions such as this. I grip the handle of my blade and it is familiar, not a mere tool that a I've established a connection with, but the warm handshake of an old friend. I keep an inch of steel bared, not a challenge, but a warning of my willingness to kill if necessary.

"Messy..." I say with a grimace, putting a glimmer of disgust in my eyes. "Whoever did this was quite the demon." There is no reason for him to know that I am the demon in question. If accusations are made, I will deal with them, until that time, I'm inclined to play this one as I do any interaction: carefully.

[Thoughtless Poet]

One of the man's eyebrows rose as he saw the strange man brandish a bit of his blade. Though the intended message was not lost to him, the black-haired figure that stood in the doorway also knew that, somehow, the man before him was responsible for the carnage behind him.

"Why did you kill everyone here?" the man said, his voice calm but firm as his eyes lowered into an intent stare.

[paradigm]

I am surprised, not by the man's presence, but rather at his seeming knowledge. An assumption? It is entirely possible, but unlikely...one does not make such claims without possessing the intent to back them up.

"And what, praytell," I ask with an arched brow of my own "...leads you to believe I am responsible?"

I gesture to my clothing, immaculate and unruffled as though fresh from the cleaners and, most importantly, not a speck of blood to be found; Silk had made sure of that.

"Tell me, does everyone in your realm make such baseless accusations?"

As I elaborated earlier, I find no enjoyment in needless killing. However, if the man pushes the subject of my guilt, I will have little choice but to remove him from this reality entirely.