~A Picnic With the Cannibals~ [pg13]

[ωΘĿƒ]

Le Cyll strolled along the pretty flora-lined walls, the ivy covered stone and the bushes bearing fruit and flowers only the likes of spring could provide.

Wasn't it nice? Spring. He loved spring. Spring was the season of life giving. If you saw spring blossoms bloom, you had made it through another blistering, sickening winter and were in the clear for another season. Nothing lay ahead but easy hunting, plenty of free time, and the warm, warm weather.

Now, far be it of Le Cyll to dislike the clean, sterile feel of winter's chill; but it did get tedious after an entire season of cold. He needed variety - warmth. Spring was warmth. Spring was life.

And now... spring was a chance to try something new.

Le Cyll held his hand out to Seth, the lovely water horse. Wasn't she beautiful? Yes, she was. She was also psychologically clean. Sterile. Wonderful.

How nice. No emotion. He envied her.

"Isn't it nice out today?" he asked, smiling. For the first time all winter, it was genuine, the smile he gave her.

She could not smile genuinely, but he could. So sad, but he would give a smile away to be like her. So empty. So lovely. Like a clean, pure casket. Nothing inside.

And waiting to be filled with potential, yes?

[Iƪƪia]

As she walked, Seth glanced at the new scenery all round her. She supposed it was a good change from the winter landscape she had grown tired of months ago. And yest it was still nothing special.

As they continued their stroll, a pert of her wished that she didn't have to walk at all. However, another part of her decided that it was better to walk so that she wouldn't have to stare at the same scene for long. It was quite difficult to decide which scenario was better, so she simply decided to stop trying.

Looking up at the dog, she watched his outstretched hand for awhile before finally placing her hand into his and letting her arm fall limp.

The dog seemed to be rather pleased that Spring had finally arrived. In all honesty, Seth didn't really care. Yes, a very long Winter would have been boring, but she'd have made due. After all, she got bored with everything pretty quickly. It probably wouldn't be long before she was bored with Spring too.

However, an affirmative answer was easier to give. So, after a moment of wondering whether a word or a nod would use less energy, she finally responded.

"Yes."

There was no need for anything further. She didn't have to pretend. He knew exactly what she was.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Le Cyll laughed at the absence of feeling in her single-word response. His laugh was rather absent of the appropriate feeling as well.

Le Cyll had noticed that, even if you had filthy little feelings, you still had to use them properly. This was difficult. He was much like Seth in that he hated the strain of it. He laughed, and it sounded dry and monotonous - like something ominous more than happy.

He liked his laugh. He loved is laugh. It embodied perfectly everything that he was to mean by it. Seth was funny, but she wasn't funny "haha." She wasn't ironically funny. She was funny in a dark way - a morbid way. Why not a morbid laugh to explain that sentiment?

Yet, none would understand this. He doubted anyone could ever relate. So why not someone who just didn't care? What a wonderful solution. Le Cyll was still not regretting it.

After that fitful affair with Kendryek, Le Cyll had grown a more social appreciation for Seth. Why not? He was intended to be a pack animal - he simply hadn't found a good enough pack yet.

Seth would do for a start. Companionship. Someone to sit next to just for the sake of sitting next to. It was a strange and idiotic thought, but why not try it once? With the embodiment of apathy?

It couldn't hurt. And he loved experimentation. This was proving to be an interesting little moment. And he didn't have to hide.

She was just like him. Not acceptable.

"You are not exactly the exciting type, are you?" As was his favorite pastime, Le Cyll quaintly ignored Seth's part in the conversation, and instead went on as if she had already answered him.

"It waists too much energy. Yes, it seems to do so. How efficiently you must think. I am afraid I'm not of similar mind. I do enjoy my small frivolities. But then again, I can enjoy them. Not much, but it is possible."

Le Cyll contemplated what Seth had told him on their first encounter. She had always been like this? Interesting. Fascinating. He, sadly, had been another of the flock before the good lady fate had got ahold of him and tore to pieces his fragile child's mind. How sad. Le Cyll laughed his morbid laugh again. He wondered what he would be doing now if not for that fateful intervention?

Probably nothing important. He was better now. Much better. Just look! In a school with other tasty, delicious creatures all day long. And it seemed he hadn't even eaten since morning. He could feel his stomach churn with displeasure.

"Hmmm... Something fresh would do for a fresh spring day."

He was talking to himself now more than anything, but he still kept Seth on the edge of his attention span.

"I haven't had anything fresh in ages."

Looking around at all the rest of the world that seemed to think today was a good day for a walk, Le Cyll payed none of them any special attention.

"Pick one." He said, more of a command than anything else. But it was offered in good intention.

He knew how little Seth liked to expand energy. It would be his treat to do so on her behalf.

[Iƪƪia]

Seth only stared as she half-listened to the dog's response. Whatever he was saying wasn't really important, but then again, nothing ever was. He also had this dreadful habit of speaking... A lot. Much too much, actually. He rarely managed to keep her attention all throughout his speeches, but it never really mattered. Sometimes it seemed like he was just talking to himself, anyway.

She was unable to understand why anyone would enjoy talking so much. It was just a waste of energy and the topics of conversation were almost always boring. Unless she was trying to lure someone into a trap, she avoided conversing as much as possible. That was why she liked her song so much. It was wordless.

But then again, the dog's mind didn't work like hers did. No ones did. The dog may certainly be atypical, but he wasn't like her. He could feel emotion. It might be the wrong kinds and it might not be as much as a normal creature, but he was still able to. He was able to get enjoyment out of such foolish things like talking. And that was almost-

Alright, that would be enough thinking. Too much thinking tired her out as quickly as actually talking did. This was why, whenever possible, she always opted not to think at all.

Blinking, she looked toward the dog as she just caught his last words. It took her a moment to understand what he meant, but as soon as she did, she too glanced around at their surroundings. Still nothing and no one special. So in the end, which one she picked didn't really matter to her. And yet.

She caught the scent of some type of horse from somewhere to the side of her. For some reason, it was just slightly more entertaining for her when she watched a horse-like creature die. Perhaps it was because they were of such similar ilk. Perhaps not. It didn't matter.

Without even bothering to look at the creature who's fate she had just sealed, she listlessly gestured in the beast's general direction. It was just too much of a hassle to actually look and point them out. She had already expended enough energy by thinking. She needed to try and conserve the rest of her strength.

[ωΘĿƒ]

In everything that she did, Seth was ever so efficient. Now, obviously it was not her intention to specifically do so. Le Cyll was no fool. He understood that Seth's perfectly preserved state of life was not dictated through or on account of any sort of reason. She did not seem to like reason. It was ted energy. So did thinking. So did speaking. So did breathing, but it seemed she must do that...

Still, it was pleasant. Something so completely quiet and immobile - like a living stone. His own little pet rock. Seth appeared to not like his incessant chatting, and that just made him more amused.

For most people, it was not the talking that they did not like... It was the action.

Speaking of action, the sea horse did eventually give him an object to turn his attention to: a unicorn. Classic. Le Cyll nodded in an odd, polite way, then slid off to make a quick kill.

He spoke to the girl - girl though she was. Her name was Selene. She was seventeen and she was a history lover. He smiled shyly, saying something along the lines of a history joke he'd heard somewhere.

She giggled at him, and he laughed quietly back. His dry, humorless threat of real laughter masked by a small fit of light, soft chuckling.

She smiled. He smiled back. Then the black fur flickered for a second, and she dropped to the floor, the teeth marks in her jugular just beginning to ooze a beautiful silvery colored blood.

He smiled again, lightly, easily, stepping on her windpipe to stop her from trying to scream. When she still found the energy to struggle, scraping her manicured nails across the bottom of his boot, he gave a nice little shove, effectively cracking the bones in her neck and quieting her down completely.

He then took his foot off the girl, and promptly screamed something in a worried tone.

"My god... I think something killed her! Run!"

People ran, most of them screaming. Le Cyll stared blankly, crouched over the prone form of the girl in what appeared to be shock until everyone was gone.

Then his face retained its perfectly smooth, immovable calmness.

"Oh look..." he smiled, completely innocently, "we have the park to ourselves."

The whole event had taken less than three minutes in all, including the conversation and killing. Le Cyll motioned for Seth to come over as he sat on a bench near the body.

[Iƪƪia]

As the dog moved off toward the horse, Seth finally decided that it'd be worth her time to turn and watch. It was... Rather nice. Being able to watch something die without actually having to kill it herself. And, right then, there was that familiar moment of amusement. But that's all it lasted for. A moment. Then it was gone. It never lasted fir long. And it didn't even leave any evidence of ever having been there in the first place.

After all of those frightened creatures had vacated the area, she glided over to the body and sat down beside the dog. She looked down at the body for awhile, though her interest was gone now that she was dead. Then, unintentionally, her gaze drifted back to the dog.

There was... Something that she had wondered about for quite some time. She never allowed herself to waste the energy and really think about it, but it had always been there. A strange sort of curiosity, really. And it had always been something that she merely observed, and never questioned.

To say she was completely emotionless... Wasn't entirely true. She was just nearly emotionless, really. There were some emotions that she never felt, but there were still others... Like that flicker of disgust that flashed through her mind whenever she saw a human. Or that moment of... Not happiness, but more like contentedness that she felt as she watched a creature die. She could feel some things.

However, there were creatures who felt so many different emotions, and so often too. It would be a lie to say that she never once wondered...

"What is it like?" She spoke before thinking about whether or not it was worth it to say anything. Now that it was said, however, she took another moment to consider if she should say anything else and - deciding that she should clarify what she meant after all - she added: "To feel... Anything."

Perhaps the dog was the wrong person to ask. Then again, he did know more than she did. Most of her knowledge about emotions came only from observing other creatures experience them. She was able to simulate them if she felt like it, but she never really understood just what they were like.

In the end, she had to wonder why she even cared. If she even cared. Then again, if she didn't really care, then why would she bother killing so many creatures just for a few seconds of pure amusement. But whatever. All this required too much thought.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Le Cyll's quaint, innocent smile remained fixed, even when Seth came to sit next to him. He had heard at one point in time or another that, if you loved someone, you became another thing entirely. Emotion ruled you; you could not think; and the most important: your heart would flutter every time you were near the one you loved.

Odd... Why? He did not feel this. Not when Seth came over, and not when he was near her in any fashion. Sure, he devoted a small amount of time thinking of her, but it was in the tactical sense; or the philosophical sense.

There was nothing really that could "flutter" his heart. Maybe he did not love her then?

...probably.

How nice. He had never liked the concept of being forcibly animated into some form of emotion, pleasant or otherwise. And he had never understood the concept of love.

Love, like, loathing, scorn... they were all things gained for a certain reason. As he understood it, loathing was the dislike of something. He loathed people, not because he did not like them, but because in everything that they did it seemed they would like nothing more than to annoy him with their thoughts and feelings as if he would bother to pay attention. And what's worse, he was forced to listen, or be discovered as unsympathetic.

Love was the undying devotion to another. He had never felt this love. Why? He would never give his life for another, or do something on another's behalf for the rest of his life. What had they done to deserve such a thing of him? What had anyone ever done?

Seth was fascinating, and therefore he owed her something of himself. He would kill for her. He would become reasonably wounded for her. He would even suffer Kendryek for her - though it was one of the things on his list that he must do to eventually topple the dragon. Yet, there was no feeling in what he did. There was a lack of it, actually. A lack of the immediate loathing he would normally gain from a living creature.

For this, he did acknowledge Seth, but for no other reason. She was indeed special...

"Hmm?" Le Cyll noticed he'd been away from the present too long, and Seth had asked him something.

It took him a moment, then that fixated little smirk on his face spread slightly.

"Emotion, you mean?"

For a second, he wondered if she could even feel such physical things as pain or hunger. Then the thought left him. Most likely.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's mostly Hell." he confessed, shrugging. Then again, he would have to wonder if she meant him specifically, or the populous in general.

The two options were slightly different, so he elaborated.

"For me, there is a pain, much like the pain you would feel if ever you've had an infection. It is deep, and lingering. There is no cure but antiseptic tranquility and rest. And at the times when there is not this pain, I would imagine the closest thing you would understand I feel would be that split second when life ends - that flicker of something quite better than the norm."

He paused, then tried to scrounge up his findings on normal creatures in the regard of emotion.

"For everyone else, I can only speculate. They wander throughout life pointlessly, without any idea of what they feel. Like the waves of a stormy sea without warning thrash at a small boat, so too do their feelings assault them. They know not what to do with them, and they know only to let the water fill their boat when the emotion is good, and bail it out when it is bad. If the water fills up to quickly on any occasion, they sink. And at that point they do the strangest things I have ever seen, though I cannot describe what they are."

This unprompted question left him thinking again. He had no idea that Seth could take an interest in such things. Perhaps there was that small piece left of her? It wouldn't be unheard of, although strikingly rare in any case. He could only wonder at that. Not feeling anything.

The quiet. The peace. The sheer lack of that infectious pain... It sounded wonderful.

And he would give up all notion of happiness or contentedness for this feeling, if only to escape the pain.

So sad... I wonder if your life is like a Greek tragedy... Everyone dies in the end...[/b]

A small peal of anger struck him, much like the shocking sound of thunder in a perfectly quiet sky. He lashed out only half-intentionally, grabbing the dead form of the unicorn girl and propping her up between himself and Seth.

"I'd like to know... Very much what she thought before she died. I wonder if it was as bad? Nearly as bad as I feel? Nearly the amount of torture for her..."

She had does in her human form, so she had stayed in her human form. Funny, that some shifted when they died and some did not. There were those that thought that if you died and did not shift, then you had an inordinate amount of control over your skin, and those that shifted did not. He through must testing, had found there to be no correlation.

Those that died and shifted just did, and those that didn't didn't. There was nothing else to it.

He took out a small, sickled blade, very thin and sharp. He began to slowly, deliberately cut around the top of the girl's forehead, until the skin was severed and the skull was sawed through.

He did such neat, clean work that you could barely see where the cut was, until he cracked the lid open, and revealed the blood covered gray mass inside.

Tossing the skull cap on the floor carelessly, he held her head up straight, staring at the brain.

How many times had he done this, just to see if he could figure it out? If he could see the difference between his and hers. Between Seth's and hers.

He'd killed people like Seth before, and he'd killed people like him. Nothing differed. There was that same, gray mass every time.

"I've wondered for so long... what the difference is. And I've never found out. I don't think I will either..."
[/color]

[Iƪƪia]

For once, Seth actually attempted to pay attention to the dog's words. Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and the more he spoke, the further away her mind wandered. Or perhaps "wandering" wasn't the best word. More like it continuously reverted back to that blank slate that she was so used to. Not a thought in her head. It was nice.

Despite her inattentiveness, she did pick up a few choice words here and there and was able to get the gist of what the dog was talking about. Apparently, it all amounted to emotions being horrible, little things. The dog didn't seem to care for them at all, at least.

Looking toward the ground, she actually began to think once more. So emotions were terrible. She had already come to a similar conclusion herself. She could tell every time, just before they died... Even she could see that they didn't enjoy that feeling. That fear. And yet... It was something.

Everyone else was always thinking about something... And they actually seemed to enjoy thinking to a degree. Or they were worrying about something... They didn't seem to enjoy that... But... They still had something... And what about her... She had nothing... And that was boring.

"Sometimes I think... It would be more interesting... In hell," She muttered, unsure if the dog was finished talking.

Tipping her head, she looked from the body to the dog and back again. Now, what was that again? Anger? The dog seemed to be rather angry about... Something. If only she cared.

With a sigh, she looked away. Nothing was interesting anymore. It was just... Whatever. It didn't matter. She was used to this by now. She should probably just stop thinking about such foolish things. She didn't need any of it, nor did she want it in the end. And all of this thought in general wasn't good for her. No... Just stop...

"... They're boring when they're dead..."

[ωΘĿƒ]

Still inspecting the brain with a near obsessive amount of focus, Le Cyll barely heard what Seth said. Looking up, blinking confusedly, he managed to catch what she was saying.

Better in Hell..? Could it be so? Seth was not pleased with her perfect emptiness? But how? Why? It made no logical sense that something so devoid of emotion would long for something in the way that she did.

And she felt something... Not a feeling, but something. Need? Petty want?

"What could be so terrible?" The wolf asked cynically.

Interesting was the optimal word in her sentence. Did she not find life interesting? Boring? Monotonous? That could be possible. He could see this thing, so empty of life, being... hollow.

But was hollow so terrible? His question still stood.

For all the wonderful moments of pure joy he had felt, more so and worse were the negative and draining effects of hatred, loathing, fear, rage. It was so tiring, so agonizing a fate to wake up every morning and know for an absolute fact that you were going to feel that strangling, suffocating, smothering choke of negativity throughout the day.

And when you lay down to sleep, and that weight seemed to not press as suffocatingly, it was terror to know that when you rose up from sleep, there would be your chains, dry cleaned and ready for you to wear again...

It was torture; it was hell; and he was quite sure he was wearing the wrong chains for his sentence in Hell.

So what did you do, when every moment of your life was torture? Did you sit alone in the blessed silence... and listen to that voice eat away at your sanity. Did you socialize effortlessly with the creatures of the planet... until you were so sick of the smell and the stupidity and everything about them that you wanted to cut them down the middle and deep fry them in batter. Did you turn to peace and knowledge... until all the book in the world are not enough to keep away that ringing sound of sadistic madness you heard.

...or did you skip the pleasantries and immerse yourself in what it really was that got you that high - the taste of adrenaline and the smell of sweet, sweet fear. He went for the last option, useful though it was.

And yet even if he did not kill and maim enough that suffocation that slowly strangled him still remained.

"What Hell could be so pleasant as the one without feeling?" he finally mumbled, staring back at the gray brain and poking it with his knife.

He sliced several thin, long strips from the organ, then laid them out on top of the skull cap he'd just thrown out.

Brain was tasty, even if it caused all his displeasure in life.

[Iƪƪia]

He was... So similar. She had met others like him before. Whenever tragedy befell them they would wish away their emotions. If they had no emotion, they couldn't hurt. She realized this by now. All throughout their lives, creatures would try to eliminate their suffering, or just avoid it if possible. And what better way to eliminate the suffering than to eliminate all feeling.

It would work, of course. The suffering would end. Yet what good would that do for them. How could they enjoy the lack of suffering. How could they appreciate their new, emotionless existence. They would just continue to live their lives as hollow shells of who they once were. Creatures would continue to suffer all around them, but they would be indifferent to it all. Was such an existence really that appealing?

Her gaze tipped skyward slightly, and she closed her eyes, as if she was even bored with seeing now.

"It isn't terrible. It isn't pleasant. It's nothing. It's boring. I don't have... A profound reason for thinking this way. I't's just boring. You couldn't understand. If you did you wouldn't care."

It would be useless trying to explain the absence of feelings to someone who had them, just like it would be useless trying to explain feelings to someone who didn't have them. One could learn as much about the subject as they liked, but unless they experienced it themselves they would never really know.

It was really a waste of time to even be talking about this now. And yet... She wanted to know. She would never know, though she still made these useless attempts to try to understand. How did they feel? What was it like? What was he feeling right now?

[ωΘĿƒ]

It was... like a rare steak. Not so much so in the regard that it was flavorful and juicy, but that it was tender. It was nearly tasteless, but it still had that strange fluid taste that all organic matter held. Brain was not a muscle, so it did not work like one. It did it's energy consumption in a more electrical sense, not a cellular one. Sure, they were both chemical reactions and both subservient to the overall flavor of that, but in the end the taste of a working muscle and an electrical organ would always be different. Le Cyll nibbled at a few of the pieces, swallowing them whole after only a second of taste-testing them.

Food calmed him down greatly, which was quite wonderful if you were already sitting in a relaxing environment such as a garden with wonderful company such as the likes of a fellow deviant. It was remarkably easing, even with the serious banter of such things as his eternal suffocation.

He had learned to tune the subject out from minor afflictions of the emotional kind, but it was much more enjoyable to simply not feel the need to suppress them in the first place. Thus the food. It was so enjoyable...

"Hmm?" He had almost missed that one. So hard to concentrate. he did admit to having a bit of a wolfish mind. Very centered on food and shelter and mating and the like. There was not much more than the basic necessities of life to any given animal, and he had been raised to embrace that animal side.

He had also been raised to embrace that side that ate brains out of the heads of perfectly respectable people, but to be honest that was partly due to his own preferences than anything else.

Some people like eyes better.

"There need be no profoundness," the wolf said, lightly, finishing off the last of his slices, then cutting a few more off of the larger chunk. "There need be nothing at all. Though, admittedly that is the point, no? To feel nothing. To be in effect immune to any emotional effects. This - I'm not sure if you know - has defined me for the better part of my life, and all of my adult life. This war against something that has inherently always been mine - this feeling. Without it you could make the argument that I am less a being than previously, but with it you could definitely conclude that I am more than I intend to be."


How did he make her understand? This thing that she was... it was exactly what he wanted for himself. Freedom. From everything. It would mutilate him mentally - in the most simplistic sense of the term lobotomize him - but this is what he wanted. Better a half-hearted hold on existence than none at all - and that was another of his wolfish tendancies kicking in - the will to survive.

He could not die, else he would have already done it. But if he were to live, then he needed relief from this burden. It would make things nothing - not pleasant - nothing. That is exactly what he wanted. That nothing to engulf him.

It was very similar to death. So much so that it rose up a small flicker of fear in him sometimes to think of being that way, but he required it. He was young... So young.. And as far as he knew he could not end his life though traditional means.

"You see," Le Cyll said, after a moment, "You may die, but I cannot. In no way, shape, or form is there an end for me. This is the closest I can come to something liken to the silence, and it is silence. Completely. It is perfect."

Thinking himself rude now, he held up the freshly sliced pieces of the meat at Seth.

And it did seem she wanted to feel... Well then... Perhaps if she ever could feel, she could see how it was. This hell. Because for someone who wanted to go and see and take a picture for the family, she wasn't quite understanding.

Le Cyll was in hell, and he was telling her it wasn't as fun as it sounded, pain and all... It got... tiring... after a while... after that first notion of romantic sorrow wore off... There was nothing but the pain, and that was killer.

[Iƪƪia]

That was it. Finally, she'd had enough. There was oh, so much talking. It was rather impressive that she'd managed to concentrate on it all for the most part. But now she was tired, and by the end of his speech the only response she offered him was one, loud yawn. That seemed to sum up her thoughts rather nicely.

She watched as he held up the pieces of brain to her and she accepted one wordlessly, placing it in her mouth and chewing without tasting it. As she looked away, she allowed her mind to drift to one of her favorite subjects: death. The dog had said that he couldn't die. A shame. Then she'd never be able to watch as that look came into his eyes the moment before he died. But oh well. There were many others to observe.

She, on the other hand was very killable. She could kill herself if she wanted to. At times she wondered if death would change anything for her. If there was an afterlife would she be changed at all. If there was none, then was nothing. Hm, nothing sounded rather pleasant, even to her ears. Of course whatever happened to her whenever it happened didn't matter much to her. It was just what it was. So what.

All that mattered was the now, and right now she needed sleep. Well, she didn't need it, but she wanted it. And so she would have it.

Standing up, she supposed she should say something to the dog at least.

"There could have been worse ways to spend my time."

With those words, she left to walk back toward her room, her mind once again blank, only caring about the dreamless sleep that awaited her.