Sublime Sickness [pg 13]

[ωΘĿƒ]

So sickly... So disgusting! What atrocity of a living thing would do such terrors to him? It was unthinkable! And leave him alive like this! Bleeding, no less! Wasting away slowly - the operative word there being wasting. And who could so waste such a thing as skin and flesh and blood? It was so precious... So important. To Hendrix sure. Yes, he assumed Hendrix must be involved somehow in this, seeing as it was his flesh and blood being wasted. But more importantly was the concept of it. Think... just think of the carefully constructed life being torn apart as if it were some oddity to poke and prod at - a child on a beach, stick in hand, tearing apart a jellyfish as it baked in the mid morning sun. Such repulsion came from this thought. Such anguish.

And yet, wasn't it funny... He did almost the same thing. Almost. But not so... crudely. So sloppily. It was almost as if this creature, whoever it was, had intended to cause damage - as if that could be its one purpose! To damage and destroy! How repugnant. The wolf himself had to shudder at the sight of Hendrix - loather the mere example of such carelessness.

But then again, despite the cause or the will behind such an act, it had been done. There was no undoing it, only mending what was broken - and Le Cyll was remarkably good at this. He was, after all, a doctor. And more than that he did not simply destroy something when he took its life. He studied it. He learned from it. There was no such waste as he was concerned, and so he did his very best to amend this despicable deed; and he did so quite well.

Along with the meager amount of magic he'd learned simply being in the magical school, he utilized all other aspects of healing. The details are unimportant, though. There was not much to explain in the way of a slough of stitches and band aids and disinfectants and pain medications. Suffice to say, it was a simple task. Hendrix was fine. Within a short while, he would show no sign of the revolting incident - and it was a good thing too. It was too grim a memory, for the both of them he was sure. But Hendrix had been sleeping through most of this healing process. What could he do other than sleep? Bleed? Scream? Yes... the options were limited and a tad disappointing. So Le Cyll chose for him and simply had him sleep through it all.

It wasn't long. No, not long at all. And then He was... better. He would eventually be fully healed, but now at least there were soars where where were wounds, and bandages where there was once body fluid. He looked better. Much better.

Le Cyll snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. Maybe he still needed to sleep? But no.. that wouldn't be. He should be well enough to be awake at this point. Well then, perhaps his sleep was just restful, and he needed to be roused through other means.

"Hendrix?"

Not loud, but not quietly either. Le Cyll folded his hands behind his back, waiting but not noticing any difference. Louder then?

"Hendrix. Wake up."

[Iƪƪia]

Sleep was overrated. He could stay up for weeks with barely any sleep at all. He shouldn't, of course, but he could and he did. Usually, he was too busy to sleep anyway. Though that was kind of a ****ty reason. In actuality, he tried to avoid sleep because they didn't like it when he slept. Unless of course he had just seduced a few girls into bed with him. Then he might have earned the right to sleep, but even then it would only be for an hour or so.

It only made sense then, that when he got more sleep than they wanted him to have, they would let him know. Their favorite thing to do was to **** with his dreams, turning them all into hellish nightmares, and after having just been tortured within an inch of his life, he didn't care to relive it all over and over again all night.

However, through the freakish illusions that were swirling all around him, he noticed something else. A voice. Someone was calling his name?

Slowly slipping back into consciousness, he became aware of a dull ache all throughout his body. Groaning, he wondered if he'd just be able to ignore them and go back to sleep anyway. Unfortunately, there were things he had to do, not the least of which was figuring out where the hell he was.

He turned his head to the side, cracking open his eyes only slightly. It looked like he was in... Someone's bedroom? While waking up in someone else's room wasn't all that unusual for him, considering all that led up to this point, he decided it would be best to get up and actually examine his surroundings.

Gathering his strength, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Then, he did a quick once over of the room, flinching away as he noticed the guy standing right next to him. It wasn't that he was afraid of the guy. No, he was just the weird guy with the French-sounding name from the bar. Not a threat at all. What startled him was the fact that he had been carried into some guy's bedroom. That, coupled with the fact that he was feeling rather vulnerable at the moment, painted a very strange and horrifying image. One that he was glad no one was around to see.

However, he did his best to mask his apprehension and instead just nodded adding on a muttered "Hey."

Looking away, he proceeded to examine his arms and body, realizing that he had been bandaged up quite nicely. He couldn't quite remember how bad the pain had been at first, he was certain that what he felt now wasn't even nearly halfway as bad as that. He tapped one of his arms experimentally, wincing at the momentary sharp pain.

"Huh. So you are a doctor," He muttered to himself.

Shrugging, he slid off of the bed, walking around the room a bit, effectively ignoring the guy. What, was he supposed to thank him for basically saving his life? Offering words of gratitude always made a guy sound so weak.

[ωΘĿƒ]

It seemed backwards, really, to have Hendrix simply get up and walk away.

Not that he had that concept of him. Oh no. Never once had he thought of simply putting the man out of his misery in a remarkably humane and perhaps slightly gratifying way. Never once had he seen the sleeping form and thought of the faces of any of the countless people that looked exactly the same as they lay there waiting for the end to come visit them, compliments of himself. And never, oh never had he been tempted to wake Hendrix up during this arduous process of healing just to hear a small scream and remember they way they screamed too - because it was an opportunity not so easily afforded, to have something near death drop in on him like this. And he would not want to take advantage of such a special opportunity - absolutely not.

What kind of sick individual would do that?

But for such we digress. It may have been odd and rather confusing an experience to watch Hendrix hover aimlessly around the room, but the wolf would adapt. Of course he would. Now... what did you do when you were a good host and did not play on the weaknesses of your guest?

Hmmm.... Food. Yes. Food offering sounded like something trivial and appropriate. Sadly, there was no food here. There was, in fact, very little here at all. It was not a home, per se, but a very nice storage unit. Le Cyll himself was never in this place, having much more interesting things to do than sit around in a room and interest himself with whatever it was one did in such a room.

Or sleep. That was another interesting thing about rooms. Apparently you slept in them. He, being so unfamiliar with this concept, did not acquire it as he had so many other customs.

Sleep is weakness. There is no time for sleep...

Yes, indeed. No need for such small pleasures.

Oh- Hendrix. He had almost forgotten. What do do with him?

I told you to e-

"That I am," the wolf said, abruptly, but not with any amount of interest in making conversation. Instead, perhaps it was more quiet if he was the only one able to speak.

"Why... would you have thought me to lie about such things?"

Just empty words, chasing back something that did not have the right to speak.

It's not too late... He's still here. Look at him, so weak. So unsuspecting. You saved his life. It's yours to take.

"And of course that leads to the question... how do you feel?"

[Iƪƪia]

Contrary to popular belief, Hendrix wasn't a fan of the dramatics. For one, death and destruction were things you should brag about, not angst over. Of course, whenever that freaky **** happened to him, the best course of action was to simply pretend like it never happened. Though if he couldn't do that, the next best thing was to brush it off as if it were no big deal. This was precisely why he often tried to conceal whatever pain he was in despite his frighteningly low tolerance for it.

So he stood oh, so casually, looking out the window, even though he felt as if he would double over in pain and even though the pain was a mere shadow of what it had been however many hours ago. Despite all this, and thanks to years of practice, he was able to speak as though he wasn't fighting to stay standing though the mere thought of the ordeal he had gone through threatened to bring him to his knees.

"I dunno," He shrugged, "Met a lot of strange people in my time."

Turning away from the window, he wandered around, exploring the rest of the place. It might have been seen as rude, though he couldn't have cared less at the moment. He needed something else to distract him for awhile.

The place was... Strange. It didn't seem lived in at all. Perhaps he liked the minimalist approach? Well, Hendrix could relate. He never used his own place that much anyway. Well, aside from the bedroom, but that went without saying, and he often tried to find other places to have his fun in anyway. No use defiling his room when there was a perfectly good alleyway right outside his window.

At the next question, Hendrix chuckled in spite of himself, not looking at Le Cyll as he answered. How did he feel?

"Uh, like I was just tortured, almost to death, and then someone did a half-assed job in patching me up," He glanced back at him, smiling disarmingly before adding, "Or better."

With another lighthearted chuckle, he turned away to continue his examination of the room. He always made an attempt to keep everything cheerful in nature. When things got too serious, it began to get depressing, and then suicidal, and... Well, he really didn't care for any of that. Best to just keep the seriousness for the times you're being tortured or followed by a lynch mob.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Look at him... He's wounded. You can smell it on him; see it when he moves. Wounded animals should not be left to suffer. It would be a kindness... Why don't you listen to me? It was a kindness until you woke him up... You should have listened.

Blinking at this, Le Cyll could only wonder what to say. He had run out of the conventional words, as he was very sure Hendrix had made some kind of joke. Now, as much of a connoisseur as he was for language and more so for comedy, he could simply not find this funny. How odd.

Preoccupied... You're still considering it.

No. No, that was not it. Why was it always that sound with it's sweet tendrils and its smooth voice and its painful aftereffects? Making him think such things... Such terrible things.

You blame me but you did this before... Don't you remember?

Quiet. That is what he needed; but the only way this thing stopped its onslaught was if he was nowhere near anything of interest to it or he was simply talking to someone else. However he could only speak for so long, and he did hate triviality... Therein came a balance of the mellow, simple speech to others that drove him bored to tears and the soft, silky sound that drove him mad with rage.

And it was an interesting thing, to try to balance the two. Well then, let's see... Something to talk about. It had had it's time to speak. Now was his turn.

"You're welcome," the apathetic sarcasm was much in contrast to the seemingly lighthearted display Hendrix was putting up, but it was by no means a negative thing. Perhaps he sounded that way, or perhaps he simply sounded uncaring. Either way, it was not as it may seem. Much the same as the lightheartedness...

Then, as if to completely derail this lovely boring discussion, he changed subjects.

"Tortured? By whom?"

Ah... no. No that wasn't right. That was... misinterpreted for perhaps a second.

See... You've been thinking about it-

"Not any of the villagers..?"

That could not be right. Hendrix was bleeding. As little as Le Cyll was to understand about the creatures in Colleger, he knew this: they apparently could not control themselves at sight of blood. It seemed then, that someone must have held a grudge then deposited him where he may be disposed of in an orderly fashion.

Devious... why would you not simply kill him yourself? It seemed rather wasteful to go through all that trouble and not kill anything. Truly a sick mind.

[Iƪƪia]

Having grown bored with simply wandering around the place aimlessly, he began to open up cupboards, drawers, anything really, taking a quick glance at their contents if they had any. Perhaps it wasn't the most polite thing to do, but it wasn't as if he was going to go around and rearrange the place. Besides, this was keeping his attention. He liked having something to do. It was when he wasn't doing anything that things got depressing.

I don't think he likes us.

"Hm?"

Glancing back from behind a cabinet door he noticed how Le Cyll hadn't returned his comment with nearly as much cheer as he had. Not that the guy looked at all cheerful. Always so serious... Ah, but he had a friend of his own, didn't he? He was probably just drained from trying to keep that pal of his in line. Ah, to be so young and naive. Thinking he could actually beat it. Wanting to beat it in the first place.

Before he was able to respond to the sarcasm, Le Cyll posed another question to him. Wanted to know more about the torture, did he? It was only a matter of time. Oh well, he'd be sure to down play the situation. Although those who knew him were already well aware of the fact that he wasn't nearly as strong as he let on, it never stopped him from trying.

"Eh. I ****ed the wrong chick and their psycho, mobster of a leader found out," He shrugged, shutting the cabinet door and walking away.

More than just making him look good, downplaying it all made him feel less frightened about it in general. Of course, he was still scared ****less to go wandering around the town at night, despite anything White said. It was rather ironic, actually, that he used to be one of those things that made it unsafe to walk around at night.

He turned back toward Le Cyll, watching him curiously. The guy always looked like he was fighting some sort of internal battle. That couldn't be healthy. Not like what he did was necessarily healthy, but at least it made him happy... Which was good, right?

He stopped several feet in front of him, tipping his head slightly upwards to make up for the difference in height.

"You... Okay?"

[ωΘĿƒ]

As Hendrix began to rummage around through things, it gave Le Cyll something else to focus on besides-

You can't ignore me.

Yes well, he fully intended to try... This unconventional opening and closing of shelves and drawers bothered the wolf slightly - and he said just slightly for a very specific reason. The wolf did not approve of most things company related. Among the many things that entailed having a natural dislike of, curiosity of another person concerning anything of his was included. Now this... search, or whatever it was - it was something quite serious to the wolf. Normally he would imagine himself paranoid beyond the point of console, to see someone touching what was his. And yet this was not the case. If you remember, he did not use this place - and then only for the very minimum of things.

Still, detached though he was from this room and its contents, he did not enjoy watching them be rifled through. He focused on it, intently - with each empty shelf Hendrix examined.

Don't worry... He'll never find anything.

Indeed. There were things here of his, but they were hidden. Why? Ah, for security he guessed. Nothing much besides the incessant need to put lock and key between whoever might attempt to search for them. And it was a good thing too. You would think he'd never need it, but here was a perfect example of a situation. Someone had been tortured by a mobbish vampire and in his immense kindness Le Cyll had brought him here to recuperate; after which the man woke up and decided to rummage around nonchalantly. Yes, that was a very plausible scenario, wasn't it? Glad he prepared.

And in the case he did find that stainless steel trunk, he would not be able to open it. Le Cyll had the key. Not that he would... oh no. Why would someone want to open a locked trunk? What could possibly be inside that they would think of such great value to see? And certainly nothing in there was of value. It was all sentimental, or practical. In the wolf's mind, the most valuable kind of things - but he knew none other shared his similar interests.

"Hmm?" there was a pause in his process, a moment of disinterested confusion as he looked up.

Oh yes. Hendrix. What was that? Was he alright? Yes. Perfectly so. Always, he was fine. Simply fine.

Simply fine... Simply fine... You're so full of it.

Mimicking as he had for so long a simple smile and a light, easy speech, Le Cyll nodded.

"Just thinking."

Thinking about what, I wonder? All this time that chest... What's in the chest? I bet I know.

Le Cyll frowned then, after that very unneeded statement. He had realized something then, in that moment, and now that he saw it so clearly he did not like at all what it was he had discovered...

He had actually been quite happy before he found Hendrix that one night.

Yes... didn't you notice that? Don't you remember what happened?

Well, there was the beginning. Nothing here; nothing in this place for that first short while. About an hour, he remembered.

Yes, yes. Then came that Alyith. Skip that part!

Oh well, yes. After that of course - after he had settled in and met a few very wonderful people and smiled and been happy with them while listening to the droning sounds of their unintelligible speech... Seth. And then soon after Kendryek. And isn't that just so strange... soon after Kendryek there came this sound...

Kendryek's fault... but what happened with Kendryek? Seth?

Ah yes. That was right. Soon after meeting Hendrix for the first time, he had the fortune to come across that lovely water horse Seth. That was... an interesting thing. But it was not negative. No, not so vile as Kendryek or anything like that.

And yet... some small time later, Kendryek appeared. And then he left. Simply. He said something remarkably strange for such a pestilence as himself and then he left. Le Cyll was alone now - absolutely sure of it.

Yes... and everything was how?

Good. That was an accurate word. Everything was good. For the first time in a while it was all-

It was perfect. You know it was... and then you found... Who did you find?

Hendrix.

Yes.

And of course he had to help.

Why..? What a good person you are... So compassionate of his plight. You took him in and then what happened?

The pain got worse.

Right... and it wasn't me. Wasn't me. I would never do something like that... It was him. So much I had to speak to make you understand that he was not good for you. He was not for you to help.

But he had helped anyways. Of course he would. He would not leave something so broken unmended-

And that's how he repays you... With pain. You know it wasn't me. Wasn't me. Lying there like a wounded animal and you didn't touch him! I had to say something. And you resisted.

So sorry...

It's alright. It's not your fault either. You did the right thing. But why was he there? What right did he have to come and ruin all that? That happiness. What kind of person would do that? You know, there is a way to get that all back. There always is. You know how to do it... Make yourself happy again. Make everyone happy.

...........What?

Le Cyll blinked, a hand coming up as if to clutch at that strange, paralytic pain in his head. It stopped halfway up, then dropped lifelessly at his side.

"I have a question for you, Hendrix," Le Cyll said, calmly, "since you are so convinced of the validity of these...voices."

No! Listen to me! LISTEN!

"If, for example, I were to obey what the said without question, what do you think I would have done to you?"

[Iƪƪia]

At the typical "just thinking" response he got, he couldn't help but think about what? Judging by the guy's still-creepy disposition, it was probably... Well, creepy. When you get a response like that, the best you can do is smile and nod before thinking up some weak excuse about how you have to leave to go home and feed your Capuchin monkey even though everyone knows that Capuchin monkeys make terrible house pets and you don't even have your own place, but rather you just wander around from town to town which then lets the other person know that you are either a horrible liar or a pirate, and neither really help your image.

He then realized that he had just been considering the pros and cons of using one of those monkeys to try and pick up women. Weird. He didn't think he was on drugs. Then again, he had just woken up in another guy's bed and was still hanging out at his place without much disgust or fear on his part, so who knew? Finally, deciding that he would not ever want anyone to think that he might be a pirate, he only nodded.

I don't like this. We should leave.

Huh? Aw, but I'm trying to make friends.

Knock it off. You're going to get us killed.

By this guy? I don't-

No! Don't you see? It's because he seems so nonthreatening. That's how it always is. Like with that one child-

The blonde fag?

Remember how he hurt us? Imagine what this one could do.

He did kinda help me though...

A ruse! Merely a ruse.

Dammit, listen to us!

Alright, alright, I hear ya!

Now, just say something quickly and leave.

... I don't want to be a pirate.

... You deserve to die.

Just get out.

He heard mention of a question just as he was trying to keep himself from laughing. Of course, he really didn't have to hide his insanity at this point, but it was more of a reflex. The majority of the people he'd met would think quite strangely of him if he suddenly burst out laughing for no reason. Even he had to admit he'd find it rather odd.

The question he asked, however, wasn't nearly as funny. In fact, it was pretty disturbing, and as much as he'd have liked the answer to be "nothing" there were at least a dozen much more unpleasant thoughts that ran through his mind as well, and he felt certain that at least one of them came pretty close.

Without responding immediately, he kept his eyes on Le Cyll and took one, noticeable step back. However, he watched him with more of a wariness than a fear.

We told you-

"Yeah, I know," He muttered, quieting them for just a moment. He then spoke to Le Cyll, "Let's see, maybe I'd become your next, sick experiment?" He offered, thinking about his response for a moment before adding: "But I bet you would've had fun with that!"

Chuckling halfheartedly to lighten the mood, he glanced around the room, figuring that even if the guy tried something, there probably wouldn't be a barrier around the place that could stop him. Unless he had been drugged. It didn't feel like he was, but that could explain his sudden fascination with pirates and monkeys.

It was at that moment that he decided to do damage control just in case the guy did take the advice he offered last time and just in case that friend of his didn't like him so much.

"Alright, look. What you're doing here, valiantly fighting that voice, it's... It's not such a bad thing. I just listen to them because..." How could he explain it any further? Was it even possible to explain what a blessing they were? How their words saved him so many times. What a ****ing awesome time he'd had since he begun to listen? How then, could he explain? "... Because it's easy."

He could hear the protest already. Well, it was more accurate to say that he felt it. It was as if they were attacking his head from the inside with a lot of tiny knives. It hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it could be, which meant that it was possible to ignore it for awhile.

With a shrug, he walked over to a table, leaning against it though keeping Le Cyll in his sights. He knew how they worked. For him, anyway. If they were constantly bombarding him with sadistic thoughts, telling him to kill the guy, he wouldn't be able to resist for long. Sure, this guy wasn't that much like him, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I tried dealing with them the hard way for a long time. Because of that, I was abandoned, quarantined, and almost killed. Then I gave in and things got considerably better. I'm weak, I know that, and I won't deny this insanity I've brought upon myself. Heh, yeah. Maybe you should just ignore that voice of yours. You seem insane enough already."

It wasn't like him to be so candid. Perhaps it had something to do with the lingering effects of that drug. Perhaps he realized how foolish it was to hide such insane-sounding things from someone who was, at least, nearly as insane as he was. Or perhaps it was for some other reason that hadn't occurred to him just yet. Either way, he decided that it was time to change the subject.

"Did you take my last bit of advice, though? **** any good chicks lately?"

[ωΘĿƒ]

Still slightly dazed - lost in something of a pleasant, fuzzy numbness of pain and disorientation - Le Cyll did not bother with his overanylitical thought process as Hendrix spoke. He simply listened, and when he thought he had heard what it was Hendrix was saying, he just nodded, blankly. Almost as if he hadn't hard - which in fact was nearly the same as not thinking about what he heard.

Because the wolf was not a creature of impulse, but of habit and doctrine. If there was no analysis, there was no information. It was exactly as if the man had never opened his mouth to speak. In order to avoid this unpleasant feeling of emptiness, Le Cyll simply skipped back a few seconds and summarized.

He knew what Hendrix had said, but what did he mean..?

Oh yes, he understood now. He was backpedaling very quickly, and well too. It sounded like he had perfected the art form years ago. At this, Le Cyll's nod became quite a bit more decisive. He understood. Perfectly. And despite what conclusions you may have drawn, it may not be what you think it is he understood.

You see, there was a popular belief that such things as self preservation were negative things. They detracted from the overall character, because the ideal creature should be selfless, kind, polite, normal, and friendly - among various other things. This, he found to be a strange concept. Why should something throw caution to the wind to be so courteous to another life form? What incentive was there? What gain? He guessed if there was a sense of a higher being and therefore a greater reward then this would all make sense, but the wolf had never been inclined to see things in this manner.

So simply, no. No this thing Hendrix was trying to do - move quickly away from a situation dangerous to him by retracting anything he'd said earlier - this was not a bad thing to Le Cyll. It was very intelligent, and very well done. Whatever it was he said, it was all to this end - even if it was all truth, the goal was the same.

Hendrix moved away, not in a terribly provocative fashion. And yet there was that sound again.

See... you know what he's doing. He's trying to get out of it. Paying his debt...

What Hendrix said next was more interesting, because it seemed to be then that he was trying to help Le Cyll in some way. Interesting. And it was useful, to know that.

Why? Why is it useful? Just part of the story... Kill him now.

"Why do you hate him?"

What? Hate? There is no hate... No hate... No emotion. Isn't that what you want? This is principal - it is integrity. You see my logic? He is a wounded animal. You have the upper hand. Use that. Tell me you've never done that before...

Hmmm. Good point, but they are all good points, aren't they?

Always... Always I tell you good things. Why don't you listen?

And perhaps that was a matter of integrity... Or paranoia. Possibly a mix of the two.

"Yes, I'm very much pleased with my level of degeneration already, thank you," the wolf sighed. "No need to compliment it."

Hendrix then moved away from this. Yes, again choosing the safer route. Very good idea. Le Cyll did so hate temptation, and he was tempted - not by Hendrix himself but by... other things.

Not temptation... Never. I'm here to help.

Well, luckily he was not so easily tempted.

But easily helped. So easy to simply lend an ear and listen... listen!

"Yes," Le Cyll replied to the question without any pretext, but he did indeed agree with what Hendrix was trying to do. This was a rather ominous thing, wasn't it? He hadn't noticed it, honestly, but it did seem so now. Instead of lowering around like something threatening then, he took a seat on the bed, leaning against one of the posts as he folded his arms together, quite boredly, actually.

Yes... perhaps a little bored now; but bored was good. So very busy otherwise. It was better to be bored than have some sort of plan to carry out - tragic though the thought was of not having a plan to follow step by step.

But it prevented his horribly ingenuous nature.

You should find Kendryek now too... While he's not expecting you.

And that, of course. It prevented things like that from happening.

He will be in the library... Think! What could you do?

Yes well, moving on. Le Cyll decided to elaborate on his recent accomplishment - as it was seen by Hendrix.

"Although not to the lengths you go to, I'm afraid." and this he meant genuinely, seldom though he does exhibit genuine speech. "I admit I'm curious about that now; though I'm sure I'll have to do something a bit different than I do now."

Probably not somuch fun comes from a sedated victim... but who knows? He'd not really thought in depth about the methodology. Perhaps he should? It might suffice to keep his mind off more devious things.

[Iƪƪia]

Pleased that the subject of conversation had finally moved onto something less confrontational, he would have sighed if that wouldn't have looked terribly suspicious. Instead, he listened to the unfortunately short response. At first it sounded like a lie someone would tell if they simply wanted him to stop talking, though Hendrix was a bit like a lie detector when it came to things sex related. A damn good one too, so he knew that he spoke the truth.

The answer caused him to smile broadly, pumping his fist in the air as if it was himself who had won such a victory. Well, in a way it was a victory for him. He felt responsible for the guy, and knowing that he'd made a difference in his life filled him with a sense of... Pride, maybe? Yes, it must be pride.

Much more relaxed now, he sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned against one of the posts.

"What, no details?" He asked, mildly disappointed.

Not that he'd expected the guy would go out and rape some chick just because someone told him to. That was his thing. Although, if he stuck hung around this guy long enough, who knew? Everyone had to start somewhere. As strange as it may seem, even he wasn't always as skilled with women.

"It's not hard, really," He shrugged, "You don't even have to overpower them. It's all about catching them off guard and making them think that they can't escape. Really gets the adrenaline flowing, lemme tell you."

Wait, did he even have adrenaline? Couldn't remember. Oh well.

Though he considered himself moderately strong, he still knew full well that he wouldn't stand a chance against some larger dragon or chimera. That was never a problem, though. He played on their fears. He'd caught a ****load of mythicals in his time and very few ever thought to change forms to escape. It was mainly because they were terrified, which was a double-edged sword, really. On the one hand, he didn't necessarily want them to fear him. However, he needed them to.

"Of course," He continued, his voice getting much more solemn, "Then there's really no hope of going back for seconds. Unless you kill them afterwards, but that's something else entirely."

Despite the crude way he put it, there really was some deeper meaning behind his words. It was again a battle between what he wanted and what he felt he needed. He didn't really want all of his girls to be one-night stands. Perhaps that was why, after they were satisfied with the amount of pain he'd caused others, he still went out to try and hook a girl through more conventional means. Usually, one-night stands were all he got, but when it came right down to it, that was probably for the best.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Details? Le Cyll tipped his head, not sure of what to say. It was quite out of his field of expertise - to the point of not even considering this the same way as most people - even Hendrix.

Most people, he found, were infinitely interested in sex. It was some kind of drug to them... except apparently you were not supposed to speak of it for fear of being lewd or such. Hendrix seemed to view it... in a way Le Cyll could not understand yet. But it seemed to him to be more like a competition with himself than anything else.

Le Cyll... well he did not see this. Any of it. Intellectually he could see the use of procreation, but sex for the sake of it? No. That was... like watching a movie for the sake of it. What was the point? Some small amount of pleasure and then it was over. What else was there? What use did it have? None, as far as the wolf could see; and so he viewed it as one of those "things" that people did - chalked it up to mere human nature, which he did not posses and would very much appreciate it if he remained unaffiliated, thank you.

So no, he did not have much to add to what he'd said. Seth was a wonderful creature, but he could only explain his near-obsessive compulsion over her - not her sexual appeal. And he was certain Hendrix did not care much for such things.

So, to say it simply, "I ah... no. No details. I'd be at a loss of what you wanted to know."

Then, thinking he was slightly mistaken, he added one more point.

"It was not rape, though."

Thinking this to be what Hendrix wanted out of it, he dropped the subject. Not that he opposed such things as rape. They were, he much imagined, about the same as what he did. And neither things brought him much shame or disgust to dwell on. One was the derision of pleasure from pain, and the other was.... actually, he did not understand quite why rape was so terrible.

...wasn't it fun? Then why would the untimely having of such fun be a bad thing? Very confusing - and he was aware that he was most likely not capable of understanding fully the horror of this thing Hendrix did. But it was terrible. Yes... that is what he'd heard. Hmmm... Well alright. If that is what everyone thought...

He much more understood his kind of evil - but only because he'd asked about it before killing someone. Apparently, it was a bad thing to take the life of someone else. It was worse than taking animal life, and worse because he'd planned it. Yes.. that made... no sense to him. He hunted, and none bothered him for that. He hunted something slightly better tasting and then it was a crime. Killing a certian way was a crime. Killing for the sake of deriving pleasure was a crime.

Well indeed he wouldn't do it if he didn't find some pleasure from it. Why would you kill if not for a positive sensation? Others killed... and they did not like it. Now this, if anything, was crime. Why do something unpleasant for both of you?

Yes, all things he'd thought of before, and still as baffling as they were when he'd first considered them. But then it did not matter, did it? He was still considered evil, and he still had to be quite discrete about his hunting. He doubted a fine explanation of himself would change anything.

People could be so illogical...

Maybe your new friend could understand?

Hmm. Now there was a thought. Hendrix seemed much more open to such things. And what's more, he seemed to have a generally speaking more normal range of comprehension than the wolf did. Voices aside, he seemed normal. Perhaps he would understand more?

Speaking of Hendrix, when he continued along with his explanations, Le Cyll made sure to devote some attention to this speech. He was quite curious now, and all this thinking had done nothing but whet that curiosity.

"How odd," the wolf said, frowning, "I do exactly the same."

Well, there was some insight. Whatever kind of ill you wished to do to something, the rules remained constant. Strike when your victim was off guard and maintain control. In Hendrix' case, he used fear. Although this was Le Cyll's more preferred method of controlling someone, he did tend to use his sedatives more. In the end, it was much more efficient. And there was always time for such lovely inspirations of fear later - when they woke up cold and alone and unable to move.

... which, come to think of it, was much how he imagined Hendrix waking up just before Le Cyll found him. Ah well, not much he could do about that. He would certainly never do something so vulgar to Hendrix. No.

Yes

No not at all. Hendrix was far too interesting to be disposable.

You find interesting people all the time... So strange. Deviants like you... They're your favorite.

True, but what could he do but assume they were violent? Although his initial meeting with the man had been quite an unorthodox one, he had come to the conclusion that Hendrix meant no harm. This was seldom said for any of the others he'd been so fortunate as to find.

They didn't even talk. Not when you asked them nicely.

Indeed, and they were all so impervious to torture. Very disappointing to have to kill them without any information at all.

He's not impervious... Look at him. So terrified. Just like you... It would be easy.

No point. Hendrix seemed useful enough already.

"Necrophilia too?" Le Cyll thought, less interested. "There doesn't seem to be any point to harming a dead thing, regardless of method. There is no reaction from the dead."

And this, odd as it was to say, explained most of the wolf's interest in such things as rape and murder. There must be reaction - a show of life from the creature. The manipulation and utilization of that life for his own purposes. The eventual taking of that life for his own needs. Cannibalism, though he did practice it, he did only out of logical understanding. He was a carnivore. There was meat leftover from what he had killed. It made sense then to eat this meat, though there was no real need nor desire to.

"But why not...?" he asked, then referring to the first thing Hendrix had said. Seconds. Yes, he did not understand this rule of not going back for seconds. He, naturally, could not kill what he'd already killed. But he imagined it would be very useful if he could. He had already done it once, so what risk would there be of doing the exact same thing?

"I need to kill what I catch, but you do not. Why then, wouldn't you find your girl again and do the same thing? I'm sure if you forced her into it once you could do it again."

And again, there was this lack of empathy for said girl. There was only the logic, and the logic was sound. He would go so far as to even consider it easier to rape a girl for the second time. They would already fear you, yes? Then there was one less worrisome thing you needed to plan for.

"Well," the wolf thought then, operating on this interesting theory of having a victim left alive once he was finished. "if she was still alive... why wouldn't you keep her?"

Yes, this was a very good point. It was the exact same concept as having livestock. Keep and use the same creature repeatedly, then why would you need to go out and get another one? It was... very useful.

[Iƪƪia]

By now, Hendrix wasn't even sure that this guy was really a guy at all. He sure as hell didn't act like one. Apparently, he had just nailed some chick, so where was the bragging? The explicit descriptions? The details about how he left her frightened and trembling against some building in a dark, secluded alleyway... Oh wait, that was just what he did.

"Yeah, figured as much," He only shrugged at his claim about not having raped her.

As far as he could tell, this guy didn't derive pleasure from things in a conventional manner. He'd probably prefer to dissect a chick rather than **** her. Therefore, he didn't have much of a reason to rape someone, unless it was for some really sick experiment. That wasn't a bad thing, actually. The fewer rapists there were out there, the more women there were for him. Sure, he could pick up some chick after someone else had finished with her, but he didn't really care for used property.

Hearing Le Cyll find some common ground between them, he smiled. Two "criminals" finding a common ground and making friends. It was like something you'd see in a movie. If movies could ever capture his awesomeness.

Glad you're having fun.

Is it obvious?

You're being stupid. You're letting your guard down.

I'll be fine.

Now's not the time for confidence! Now's the time for caution!

I... I am cautious.

So cautious that you managed to be captured and tortured.

We didn't let that happen to you.

That's just what happens when you don't listen.

I- Yeah, fine. I'll be more careful.

With that, he decided to put a conscious effort into erring on the side of caution. The mention of necrophilia, however, caught him completely off guard, even though he was the one who had brought it up in the first place. It just wasn't a good casual conversation piece, even for him.

"Uh yeah, it's... Hard to explain," He said, which roughly translated to: I'd actually rather not talk about this, so I'm going to give an ambiguous answer so we can change subjects already.

He shrugged. There were even some things that he wasn't proud of at all, strange as it may seem.

Tipping his head at the next question, it took him a moment before he realized he was asking why he couldn't go back for seconds. Well now that he thought about it, he probably could, and he had done it before, but now he just chose not to.

"It's not that simple. Yeah, if I really wanted to I could go after the same girl again and again, and it'd be easy. It's just that it's not the same, man. That first time they still have some fight in them. The second, third, fourth times? They're horrified that I can do that to them repeatedly, and after awhile they just give up. It's like ****ing a corpse, only not as- nevermind."

They become filled with such a sense of hopelessness after he would take them a second time. That would then lead him to do other things to them which would make them fight back a bit more, but it made the experience much less fun for him. So, he usually only forced a girl once and then he moved on. He did have standards.

There was more to it, of course, but none that he cared to share. There was no point in explaining how he liked to watch what they did afterwards. Watching to see if they would try to find him. Watching to see if there was any reaction at all. It had happened a few times, that he got a stalker. That was nice for awhile. Never worked out in the end, though. Those times he didn't get a good reaction, he simply moved on afterwards.

Lost in thought, he barely caught Le Cyll's next words. When he did, however, he glanced up immediately with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"You mean like slavery?" He said before slowly shaking his head, "Even I won't mess with that ****."

Strange though it may be, there were certain things that he was unreasonably opposed to. The very mention of slavery brought to mind his first foray into human trafficking, causing him to shiver. Evidently, he didn't have the proper mindset for such a thing. Having a young, terrified woman thrown at him and being able to do whatever he wanted with her... Well, it sounded good, but it didn't turn out to be as much fun as he'd hoped. A lot of it had to do with the very reasons he wouldn't go after a girl multiple times at all. However, he knew that some of it had to do with the fact that he knew what it felt like to be caged. It made him sympathize. You couldn't really show them that much sympathy in his line of work.

Sighing, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor.

"I'm telling you, man, don't even bother with that. Besides, I prefer to have fresh meat if you know what I mean."

A smile touched his lips only briefly. After that, he was strangely quiet, as if he were contemplating the meaning of life. Well, perhaps it wasn't that complex, but it was something that had been in the back of his mind for awhile now, though he hadn't realized it. Glancing beside him at Le Cyll he decided it was worth asking.

"We're... We're not evil, are we?"

It was a question he had been asking himself for quite some time. Seeing as how Le Cyll was in a pretty similar situation, he figured he was as good a person as any to ask. What's more, the guy seemed to be very logical with his thoughts, so he'd probably get a good, honest answer.

However, he regretted asking it as soon as he spoke. Why the hell should he care? Even thinking about a subject such as the moral issues surrounding what he did seemed weak. They thought so too. What they said was all that mattered, they said. He should listen to them. Listen and stop asking all these stupid questions he had.

... It was rather strange, actually. He didn't ask many of these questions in the beginning. He hadn't even thought about them. So why now, 300 years later?

"Actually, don't answer that," He said quickly, both to Le Cyll and to himself.

He chuckled nervously, brushing it off like the stupid question it was. Looking back down at the floor, he sighed. Must be tired. Yeah, tired. That was it. It had been a very trying day. Full of torture and talking and a whole bunch of other ****.

"I think I'm just gonna go back to my place and lay down," He said, standing up.

He walked toward the door, but just inside the doorway, he stopped. Turning around, he looked back at Le Cyll, and for a moment he said nothing, only watching the guy. Then, he looked down at himself, a hand going over to his other arm, causing him to wince only slightly at the pain. Finally, without looking at Le Cyll, he managed to choke out the words.

"... Thanks."

With that, he turned to open the door, stepping out and closing it silently behind him. Once outside, he only shook his head.

'We're not evil, are we?'

'Thanks.' You're getting soft.

By thanking someone?

Why don't you just go about and apologize to everyone we hurt while we're at it?

... Sorry.

It's okay. You just need to remain indifferent.

Yes, no need for such things as 'compassion' and 'friendship.'

It would only end badly. You know that.

We don't need 'friends.' Remember this.

Yeah, I know. I'll remember.

So, he turned and headed off toward his place. Considering all he'd been through that day, he figured he deserved some rest for once.

[ωΘĿƒ]

This was odd - very odd. But to be fair this entire conversation was odd - a new and fresh thing to be experienced, analyzed, cataloged, and saved for such a time as this information would be needed - and it would be needed. Information was always needed. But this was digression. The specific reason this specific thing was odd is that Le Cyll had come to understand something of Hendrix. He had standards.

And here Le Cyll though he was the only one - although clearly their standard laying was spread over different areas from one another. Le Cyll, for example, considered it a mercy to kill whatever it was he caught. Although he did not necessarily need to kill so much as he needed to... study his victims, in the end it was much more polite to mercifully finish off his leftovers rather than pick organs out at random and leave them to bleed to death somewhere... Quite a terrible thought. Besides, he could not clean properly if they were alive. Too many variables. Yes, and although pain was a nice thing, he could be terribly slow about ending it too, couldn't he? A month was much more enjoyable than a night, but then a night was all he needed. So he did not abscond.

But obviously Le Cyll had not understanding of this rape thing. Slavery was not good. Yes, alright. He would defer to the expert on this - as quite frankly, though it did seem more convenient to him, perhaps there was a specific reason?

Yes, that must be it. Oh well. Just a thought.

After mention of "fresh meat" Le Cyll understood more. Hmmm. It would be less enjoyable the second time around, wouldn't it? With someone patched up instead of clean and unmarked...

"It is interesting," the wold lingered on this. Then, disinterestedly, he dropped it. "But there is near nothing in it for me... Perhaps to try and not to keep, yes?"

This came with a slight, cold chuckle - a display of joy and yet it sounded so terribly ironic and wrathful. He always did sound so... oh what was the word?

Creepy. Indeed. Nothing he could do about that; but he was a wonderful person. Absolutely. He said please and thank you; spoke softly and did not rampage mindlessly through the school. He was well behaved.

Which was why he found it odd - yet again - when Hendrix asked him if they were evil.

He retracted the statement, but it did cause the wolf to think.

No... Not evil. Not evil. You are polite. You are kind.

"But I hurt people..?"

No... You study them. Don't be foolish. It is for the benefit of all. You learn; you do not waste. You could be much more cruel if you chose...

"And I could sedate them too-"

No! The pain! The pain is important... so you don't harm your patients. So you do not cause them pain. The ones that matter. The ones you must fix. They need help, don't they?

Blinking, Le Cyll decided against this... conversation. These always ended badly, didn't they? Always with someone dead and him standing over them, wondering what exactly he'd done with himself for those past few hours. It was so bothersome, this. So confusing. He'd rather not.

Listen...Listen!

"...It's simply philosophy," was all he said. Simply that. Something that isn't something. An answer that cannot be questioned, and a question that cannot be answered. In easier terms, he did not know - and oh he'd thought about it. Long and hard he's wondered, until he had thought himself in circles and then it was time to do the very thing that caused him so much thought to begin with.

A better question, he then thought was: Was it worth asking?

But that for another time. Le Cyll saw Hendrix get up, and he himself rose - as a matter of politeness. Hendrix said he had to go.

No! No!! Keep him here!

Yes... It was probably best that he go sleep somewhere. Being tortured was exceedingly painful and draining - and he would know. He was something of an expert.

You aren't listening to me..! You never listen!

There was a small noise - maybe a voice. Maybe a very grateful voice. Maybe something the wolf had heard so rarely that he himself had almost overlooked it in it's rarity.

Without much in the way of emotion, but - and this was most important to note - with the utmost sincerity, Le Cyll responded.

"Any time."

And... how odd. He meant that.