地獄

she was thoroughly confused by this man but she was in no way uninterested. he was convinced that she could seek salvation— redemption and retribution whatever else came to mind. laughable, in the blonde’s eyes but honestly … maybe he was right.

   He couldn't blame her, really, the fear of death was something that came with being human. However, she didn't seem to fear it; after all to take another life is to manipulate and transcend into the role of death itself. Genkaku couldn't aid his own control, allowing lips to curl upward further into a smirk.

   " Ya' could, it'd be easier. But, nah, it's about trials-- becomin' what is needed in the world. An Undertaker, better yet, fucked that name,

That bass, that loud reverberating noise that seemed to swim throughout the facility made her pause, wincing in pain. Every ounce of pain that he had brought to her mind, body, and soul seemed to all fall back upon her in the seconds the echoing bass vibrated throughout the air. Stopping suddenly she cupped her ears and crouching down onto the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks as ferociously she had almost forgotten about the pain.

Jaw tightening she felt herself stumbling to get back up to her feet. His voice had become closer now, so close that she could almost feel his breath beating down onto the back of her neck. Blood still trickling from her wounds she knew then he had to have been tracking her this way. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Cupping the open gashes on her arms she could feel the salt from her tears seeping into them causing a painful groan to come from her dried lips. This wasn’t going to help her freedom, she wasn’t going to be able to gain anything from this. The only thing she would have now is a million scars that would break her down on a constant.

                                                       ❝ No, no more.. ❞

Whispering out as she finally started to move her body again her poor excuse for a vessel was hardly able to move anymore, her feet were dragging so much she was hardly moving at the pace she had felt she needed to get away from the monster at the end of her book. The end sounded so final, so done.. and yet she ached with the realization that this wasn’t the end for her. He would not kill her, he would continue with his torment, his torture until she begged for the sweet release of death.

                                               Tнє ∂єνιℓ нαѕ му єαя тσ∂αу I’ℓℓ ηєνєя нєαя α ωσя∂ уσυ ѕαу.

He was the devil wasn’t he? At least in all of his glory he seemed to be. The joy he seemed to gain while slashing into her skin had changed her views completely. A Monk able to do such things? And for what? Stocking hadn’t known the reasoning behind her torture, but she did know he knew what she was, she knew that he wanted to find her core, but she would never open up to tell him. Devilish men such as himself hadn’t the right. Heaven would strike down the world before allowing something so despicable to happen.

  The truth behind his motives would remain an absent mystery to the rebellious angel. The falsehood of being such had been both tragic and yet pleasant for Genkaku. It had racked him with the emotion he had felt when pinning to mutilated craniums of his brothers upon the statue of his almighty, something of understanding despair; how to betray it with personal reasoning. Beginning the burning of those who would rather stake themselves and not spend their days allowing their fellow man redemption. Worded, however, emotion felt for such was disgust.

  Pleasure came after, someone who was flesh and blood yet retained holiness within them? Unheard of. There was so much to do with this knowledge. In what manner would he commence to carve out her heart, for example, as said in scriptures of all the god within all lied in the heart. Oh, and how he would try his best to selective displace bone and sinew. To spread a singularity within the hideous exterior that must hold what all sought after, if the sight of murder had aroused him then the idea of allowing endless suffering while observing how she came to be dubious would be indescribable. 

    ” So— Really, what did you plan ta’ do after escaping.”

  It was far more a statement than inquiry, then again, he had made seemingly impossible gains upon her. Leisurely taking long strides a yard or two behind the female, his arm, once extended as if to pull her by knotted locks, now utilized to tap the excess off of his cigarette. ” I mean, seriously, there ain’t shit but bamboo an’ fields for fucking miles, Stocking." Perhaps he had misinterpreted those literary novels on Stockholm Syndrome, however, he would continue to refer to her by the label known as a name until death embraced her.

  There was something stunning about her, however, that even he felt the slightest inkling of thought over. Wings taut beneath shoulders, ready to rupture skin and flutter outward for the day in which judgement would come. Or, at least, that was what he had grasped from her words when the metal strings of his bass found themselves tearing the skin of her back as they swayed to and fro in every which way. It taught him self control, to never press too deep as to cause bleeding, only burns and sores that direly needed attention.

                    All the while he simply grinned, or, for his usual, smiled, metacarpus’ meeting each other in a shrieking collision of skin.

    “I’ve been damned to hell a long time ago. Yer five years too late, Uber Monk.”

Deidre had never been a religious woman, sure she had been baptized in a Catholic church with a holy name— but she had renounced whatever superstitions her family had lived with all their life. No, she’d renounced it when she had killed for the first time. Thou shalt not kill. Sure. 

   She was comedic, truly, had she come to see his salvation as being redemption for those whom have earned the right of passage through understandably good deeds? Certainly, after all, none could view another from an idea not of their own. The female had earned it, albeit, savagely by the norm the way in which to be caught in the apocalypse he brought was preferred as such.

           ”Salvation? Yer a bit late, I coulda’ used that a couple of years ago.”

   The priest of annihilation had come to reap the souls once more, whether willing or not the time for all would surely come. Sinful or not, graceless or gilded with love for him the course of judgement would never cease. However, there were those that caught his eye; that made him pause, and wonder, if an appropriate use of their existence would aid him in his own oath to sanctify the land.