@cursedcommand — cont. from HERE !
he should have known since the start, really: Hardly anyone who can swoon with such sickening audacity at the sight and pungency of bloodshed is fit to be a hero. But, oh, well. Hindsight is 20/20, and lingering on the past has never done anyone any good. Excessive reflection, Ludwig finds, has only the ability to leech, bleeding dry all enjoyment from the here and now. And, oh ! how he enjoys the massacre put on display before him. There’s no time for such bleakness when they’re busy painting the town red, nor is there anything so deserving of attention as the man who’s done the brunt of the work that Ludwig’s so unabashedly admiring.
He doesn’t miss the grin, predatory and feral even beneath the bony starkness of Reaper’s mask. They delight similarly in the more sordid of affairs; Ludwig would know the smile on Reaper’s face just as well as he knows the adrenaline that would burn through his own blood, the cruel mirth that would drip from the doctor’s lips as it now does from Reaper’s. “ Oh, good — I was wondering if you had gotten soft. ”
He toes over the crumpled cadaver with little more than a brief glance and a mocking delicacy in his step. There’s no consideration nor compassion for the dead the two of them will leave here; the only mourning that will be done is for Ludwig, for the bodies too ruined for him to drag back to his laboratories. But, still, a decent sample size of intact corpses won’t be too difficult to recover at the rate they’re going — Gabriel ( considerate in such subtle manners ) will surely leave some relatively undamaged for Ludwig to tote back to headquarters.
“ You ask if I want more, and yet you’ve gone and left hardly anything for me to do. Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? ” Never mind the copious blood smearing the metal of the saw he’s now hooking to his belt, nor the splatter drying a dark red against his cheek and jaw. He brushes past Reaper, eyes fastening to a hint of movement steps away: a survivor, by some miracle, laying in a pool of his own blood, eye twitching and body convulsing in periodic spasms. The saw remains fastened against his hip — beating, to and away, against Ludwig's thigh, as he draws a small kit from the compartments of his belt. Large tools won’t do for this careful work; live dissection requires a more delicate blade.
“ If you meant to charm me, I’m certain you can do better. ”
