Sometimes It's a Good Hurt

[ωΘĿƒ]

Alone.

Alone

He needed to be alone.

Why? Let me help you... So sad. So tragic. What a pity, yes?

Yes.... Yes exactly. What a pity. Terrible pity that this happened.

You're hurting

No. Fine... He was fine. There was nothing that could convince him otherwise - and it was the strangest feeling he'd ever had. This fine... This calm. It was more absolute than anything he could explain.

He was fine.

Are you-

"Shut up!" he snarled, the rage as genuine a thing as he could muster. "Leave me alone, or I'll find a way to harm whatever it is you are..."

Hehe... Not without harming yourself. So afraid of pain. Sp terrified-

Le Cyll threw a door closed behind him. The child was in the next room, but he did not want to look at it - the very sight of it sickened him. So he had locked himself in this place... that he had known for such a long time. And he made sure he was alone in this room among many rooms. He would need to be. The wolf did not bother with any of the knives he had with him. Digging his nails underneath a moldering wooden floorboard, he easily tore off a long, jagged section of the rotting wood perfect for what he had in mind. Treating this filthy, infested thing as if it were the finest of rapiers, he moved carefully over to one of the chairs where he slumped comfortably, feet out and propped up on the ruined coffee table.

He played with the piece of wood, holding the palm of one hand out while he slowly twisted the massive splinter with the other. It did not hurt his palm to do this, but it was interesting, to see the slowly decaying thing up close. He usually strayed from such filthy objects. He was curious about it now though...

"Terrified? Oh yes... Very much so." he said, repeating this word a couple of times to test it in varying forms. "I'm afraid... I'm shaking... Adrenaline, I'm sure. It isn't shock. No, it doesn't feel like shock."

He ground the splinter of wood harder against his palm, fixating on the way the tip pulped only slightly against his hand. For the most part it remained stable. It was very sharp.

You aren't masochistic

"Oh god no." he wolf laughed. "Just desperate."

Listen to me... Listen!

"No."

He stabbed the jagged splinter at his palm. There wasn't any pain. Or, if there was pain he wasn't feeling it to the extend that he'd have liked. Very depressing, this was. He turned his hand, and only then did he notice the wood had not been strong enough after all. It had crumbled mid-demonstration, and thus he was left only with the torn up skin that had been able to meet with the sharp edges. He'd hoped for something a few inches in - made sure to go between the phalanges. But all in vain. He glared at his hand. It wasn't nearly as worthwhile as it had seemed. He sighed.

"I'll make sure to use a knife next time."

There was no response. The wolf smiled, stretching his hand out experimentally. Pain latticed down the forearm, but it was merely a flesh wound he'd caused. Plenty of blood, but not nearly enough lasting damage. Which reminded him... Cringing away from his own hand, he fished out a handkerchief to stop the blood from ruining his shirt. Long sleeves were terrible for this sort of thing. He really did need to plan ahead.

"Oh... baby."

The contented smile dropped from him, leaving the small, almost unnoticeable frown that was his default expression. He had a child to think of now. Yes, of course. He required the use of both his hands for that, if he understood properly.

No matter. There were plenty of remedies for this affliction... this noise that had infected him. He would cure it now that he knew how. Now that it seemed... like so much a better idea than it had before.

Really, the death of the lovely Seth had given him such clarity.

Le Cyll stood, using the cloth as a gauze. He then unlocked the door to attend to his child.

Yes... Child. What would he do with something so... defenseless? He had no answer, and not the faintest idea of where to begin.

He waited for some advice, but apparently he and his voice were not on very good terms anymore. So he simply shrugged and picked up the strange child, carefully avoiding the hand wound.

[Iƪƪia]

Feeling his way along a wall, Hendrix edged along the side of a building, continuously looking behind him as if something was chasing him. Cautiously, he peered around the corner, scanning the new scenery for any sign of life, but finding nothing. He walked around to the front of the building, leaning against the wall, then grasping at the door frame to stop himself from falling as the door gave way behind him. As he straightened up, he finally got to look at just where he ended up.

Oh. A house. That creepy, old house.

You lost them.

"Um, it's... Part of the plan."

You were so close.

You had them. Then you lost them.

"They'll turn up again," He glanced back, making sure that he was indeed alone, and beginning to wonder how he'd gotten up here.

Why do you lose so many now?

Do you fail on purpose?

He strode into the house, shutting the door behind him. He didn't like discussing those failures- his failures. It was much better to just pretend that they never happened and instead focus on his accomplishments. Of course, they wouldn't have any of that. It was for his own good though. They said it was the only way to teach him certain things nowadays.

Well, he'd think about the morals of these stories some other time. Now, rather than return to the town and look for someone else, he remained in the mansion, looking around in the various rooms.

Yes, you'll certainly find something here.

"Yeah... Ghosts? Banshees? Never ****ed one of those before."

Do you think that would count as necrophilia?

Whatever happened to your high standards?

"Hey now... Some banshees are hot."

He threw open another door, leading into yet another empty room. It wasn't as if he were actively looking for something, but he needed a distraction. Just a few moments of peace was all he asked. After all the misfortune and failure that had befallen him so often recently, they weren't going easy on him at all. It was like everything was somehow his fault.

Walking down another hallway, he wondered if he should perhaps return to the town now. He had to have been running out of distractions by now. Although it wasn't as if anyone was nagging him to return yet.

Can't you do anything on your own?

Perhaps that's the reason for all these failures.

Need help?

"Help? I can do things on my own. I'm just... Off my game right now. And tired!"

Only the weak need sleep.

What does that tell you, Hendrix?

"I'm... Weak?"

Yes, but it's okay. We'll help you.

You're getting much too independent.

It's true. We're all you need, remember?

Be a good boy now and listen.

"I know, I just-"

He completely lost his train of thought as he entered another room, only to stumble backwards, startled, clutching at the door frame for support. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he placed a hand over his heart. Damn it, he didn't like surprises, and he sure as hell wasn't expecting to find anyone in an old, abandoned mansion like this. Anyone alive, at least.

Stay alert.

"I know," He growled, sighing to try to relieve some of the stress, though he still sounded a little annoyed when he spoke again, "Dude, you're creepy enough already. You really don't need the added ambiance."

He slowly walked further into the room, noticing that he was holding something. Something that looked like a... A child.

This unnerved him just a bit. The guy was in this isolated location - a place where he probably wouldn't have been interrupted - with a child. It really made him wonder why he was here and what he was planning on doing, which then made him wonder if he should even bother asking.

No, don't bother. We have other things to do.

"... So what's with the kid?"

Idiot.

A jolt of pain hit the back of his head, though a part of him had to admit that it was worth it.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Oddly enough, most things did not startle the wolf that should be consider startling. Now, this was no new for such things as first come to mind. Bodies and such were the obvious answer - and of course they never startled them, even if they weren't his. But, there were few other things too. He did not start for sudden situations either. In fact, usually he reacted indeed in a very violent manner - it wasn't that he was fearful of this sudden surprise, but it seemed like an intelligent thing to assume that things that crept up on him were of ill intent. Thus the violence.

As the door opened though, Le Cyll noticed a general lack of reaction in himself of that sort. On the contrary, he took a quick step back, the child clutched in his arms.

And then the silence encased him and he simply stood there, devoid of life. Hendrix. Why was he here? He did have a point about being "creepy" though. Although it was largely unintentional, Le Cyll was remarkably "creepy." He had never noticed it before - until there was some mention of it - but now he was strangely aware of most things he had not been before.

Like, he did notice the awkward situation presented with him being alone in a deserted house with a child. This did deserve the given title of "creepy."

The wolf looked at his child absently. She was so very quiet, though she did enjoy her small adventures. Though he'd had her for less than an hour, he was already accumulating such strange facts about her.

"Oh dear," he said, simply, uncharacteristically genuine in his sigh. "I believe I did something wrong whilst taking your advice."

There wasn't any sign of the odd behavior the wolf had been experiencing lately. In fact, he seemed strangely lifelike now as he straightened out the little girl's shirt. She did like to play around in the dirt so much... He constantly had to brush the leaves or dust off her. Without expression she reached her small hands out to his, trying to understand what they were. He smiled, that very odd happy smile that he had similarly mutilated himself too, and held both her small hands carefully in his one good one.

"... oh, and she's dead."

There was no explanation offered for this - but it was more out of a lack of needing it than anything. Who else would this "she" be than the one he'd told Hendrix about before? If it were any other "she" Hendrix knew, it would only make sense that "she" was dead - for that is very often the intent with "she"s.

[Iƪƪia]

It was a bit disappointing to learn that the kid actually belonged to the guy. People, he found, were distinctly less daring and therefore, less interesting after they had children. Not that this guy was normal to begin with, but still. He'd have preferred it if he only had some sick fetish with children. That was more relateable, at least.

Of course, he had encouraged the guy to act a little more like he did, and... That's what he did. He usually just left the kid, though. Well, they were totally different people.

He watched the interactions between the father and daughter curiously. It was a strange feeling. It made him think of... His own kids. Oh, that was right. He did have kids somewhere, didn't he? Never met any of them, but they were out there. Quite a few were even in the same area as him. Not that he'd ever care enough to go see them. What reason would he have to? That was just... Stupid.

She's dead too? Seems to be an epidemic of mothers dying, hm?

Shame we had nothing to do with this one.

Glancing up he had to sort through his memories, making sure he really didn't have anything to do with this one. It would make for one hell of an awkward moment if it turned out that he was responsible for all of this. Luckily, he was fairly certain that he was innocent of any sort of crime. As far as this screwed up family was concerned, at least.

"I'm... Sorry?" He offered, unsure of what to say as Le Cyll himself hadn't put much emotion behind the statement.

He forced himself to smile, walking forwards a bit and picking up on a previous thought.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes," He gestured toward the kid, "Always a risk, ya know? I actually got a few kids of my own."

Kids he had no contact with, but they were his kids nonetheless, and so they were worth mentioning.

Looking around the room, he fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket, unsure of what to say. What did people say to someone with a kid? This was rather unfamiliar territory to him. He didn't really care for kids. Strange, hellish midgets they were. Not to mention, the way they stared... It was as if they were always watching him, plotting his demise.

"Um..." He glanced away from the conniving, little monster long enough to come up with something to say, "It's- She's cute."

He looked away, clearing his throat. So far their whole conversation seemed to consist of nothing but awkward pauses. Damn kid. Oh wait, this was something.

"So... She got a name?"

[ωΘĿƒ]

Le Cyll noticed immediately Hendrix's apprehension of children. Things were very clear and sharp for him now, and he was already observant. Every single thing was cataloged and studied meticulously. It seemed as if nothing escaped him now... and perhaps this was a good thing. He did enjoy the heightened realization of many things.

"It's alright," the wolf assured him, very simply, offhandedly, as if it wasn't so much an issue. It was not. He had made up his mind that this was not important any longer. Fretting would not restore anything to him, so it was simple enough to forgive and forget.

At the next statement though, Hendrix's dislike of children was obvious. He considered them "risks." Le Cyll was perhaps opposite in this thinking. He preferred children over their adult counterparts. Children were innocent, simple. They did not hide things, and they were not complexly entangled in their own silly notions. They also did not mind him as much - or anything he did. But therein lies the problem. Children were still people, and he was very bad with people.

They needed names and feelings and reasons for things... All very complicated. And they were terribly unimportant for all the pomp they put up. So when Hendrix asked him for the name of the child, it almost seemed as if Le Cyll remembered that children needed names.

"Oh..." he thought for a moment, holding the child out in front of him and staring at it as if it would give him some clue as of what it was called. When it did not, he simply made one up.

"Claudia." he said. "[/b]Claudia Caroletta Cavadesh."[/b]

And at this he once again held the child normally, wondering what to do with it. He would have to care for it. There was no question whether he'd leave it to die or not - it was his. He liked things that were his. He would prefer it if things that were his remained intact. But it also seemed that while Hendrix was here, he had the opportunity of mulling this strange situation over with someone.

He did not mind terribly that Hendrix seemed horrible with children.

"What... do you think I should do with her?" the wolf asked, slumping into a chair. This was all very confusing, and he'd like answers preferably from someone who had had kids before. Hendrix had mentioned them, but he seemed not to be burdened with any. Understandable, seeing as he did not like them, but in a way he was still more knowledgeable than Le Cyll.

There was one thing he must make absolutely clear about though.

"Certainly I cannot stop killing things... That would be rather inconvenient."
[/color]

[Iƪƪia]

It was amusing to watch the guy try to work out what to do with the kid. He certainly didn't seem to be all there. Not that he ever was, of course. He almost felt sorry for the kid. Not necessarily because he'd be a bad father, but because he seemed so goddamn boring.

When Le Cyll actually thought to ask him what to do with the kid, he snickered and walked off to the side. To think, someone was asking him about how to care for a child. Well, there was a first time for everything, he supposed. At least he wasn't willing to give up his hobbies yet. Good to know he had his priorities in order.

"Heh, put her in daycare maybe?" He offered with a chuckle.

He walked over to the chair and looked down at the kid, tipping his head to the side. She was cute in a way, though children might as well be faceless, genderless blobs to him. They really served no purpose to him, being too young to do anything for him.

"I really don't know much about kids," He admitted, as if that wasn't already obvious, "I mean, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to keep them in filthy, broken-down mansions."

Although he wasn't entirely sure if that was true, it sounded right.

He turned to walk away, stooping to pick up a small, rotting piece of wood as he continued on to stand by the window. He looked outside, toward the ground, turning the wood over absently in his hands as the gears of his mind began to turn as well.

"You're a... A wolf, right? Pack animals," He mused, "Mmhm. Ever heard the saying, 'It takes a village to raise a child?'"

It sounded good to him, asking the "community" to "help" raise the child. He recalled having grown up in a similar situation himself. Impressed with his own logic, he nodded, turning and pointing at Le Cyll with the piece of wood.

"That's totally what I'd do. Then just get someone to watch her while you're off on one of your escapades."

It made a world of sense to him. He wouldn't even have to have any contact with his child at all if that was what he wanted. For some reason, the guy probably still would want to spend time with her, but the option was still there if he ever came to his senses.

With a shrug, he tossed the piece of wood to the side. It was a shame he had no kids. No kids with him anyway. He'd certainly make a great father. If he was able to get over that crippling paranoia at least.

Oh, and he'd never let anyone else take care of one of his kids. What kind of father would he be if he just pawned them off onto one of his acquaintances?

[ωΘĿƒ]

The wolf simply nodded his head at mention of someone to help. Yes... pack animals. He did not currently have a pack, but it was easily enough to make one if the need arose. Now it had, and of course he could find someone to manipulate into taking care of his dear little child.

Le Cyll found himself staring at the child again. She was seated on his lap and not moving. She never did move that much, really. Mostly she would fix him with these strange, blue-eyed stares. Or she would completely ignore him to wander off. Interesting. Of course the wolf never thought of the child in a conventional manner, so it never occurred to him to actually speak with her. Instead he would discover exactly what it was that she needed and he would unflinchingly do it. Very odd, this. He wasn't quite sure why he did this.

"That is a very good idea." the wolf said, and immediately he thought of Hendrix. But then again... he did not like children. Le Cyll did not think ill of him because of this - or any various other things he may or may not do whist babysitting the child - but he would hate to repulse Hendrix so. It would be rather rude to do that to the only creature he really would not consider dissecting.

.... lies

Hmm. He was wondering when that was going to happen again.

You should use him... He's trustworthy. Use him and feed me.

Oh... well that did sound like a good idea. At least there was no-

He is too useful now. When the child is capable of surviving alone kill him

Interesting. Well at least there was some kind of hold on this kind of thinking.

The wolf sat up, child in arms, and gave Hendrix a smile. He did not know where he was going, but he needed to go there. Now.

...where are you..?

"You've been very helpful. Thank you."

No! Don't leave!

Where was he going? This was as good a question as any to ask, and at the moment it seemed rather important and pertinent to the situation. But clear as his understanding was of things now, he had no answer for this question. Perhaps he would simply have to find out when he got there. Wherever it was, he was taking the child along with him. It couldn't be... anything so mischievous then. No, of course not.

So without any kind of warning, the wolf simply left, still unaware why. Well, at least he was moving. He would hate to sit still what with his newly found responsibility. Then it would most likely wander off without him.