#khadajhin

Rest in the neon city

I finished this yayyyy

I love Project Jhin so much but oh god drawing robots is an absolute pain

ᴀʀʀᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

Summary: While on a war campaign, you meet a not-so-fellow assassin. You find that the both of you unlock something within each other.

Warnings: Very mild descriptions of gore (definitely not a focus of any scenes)

Word count: 3,650 (Total)

Table of contents here!

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It was beautiful. 

You put the finishing touch on your masterpiece, your assignment made more than just a mission. The dislocated arm draped perfectly over the wires you had quickly weaved together, inwardly thanking that the setting was a factory. All your resources were at an arm's length - quite literally, now. 

Stepping back, you bowed to your creation, the skylight of the building positioned just where you had expected, exactly where it was needed to cast a circle of light around your newest work.

Two legs from separate bodies potruded from the mass of mangled and tattered flesh as horns, a knife still lodged into one, the wound forming a puddle of blood on the ground that you had previously scrubbed so meticulously, having cleaned away weeks of machine residue and stray fragments. 

Blood loss? Lost, how? It's right there.

The puddle melded with the stream of another, the jaw of your structure. The two bodies you had sawed the legs off of formed a horizontal arch, their arms meeting in the middle, chipped fingernails touching from spread-apart arms. The fangs were the aforementioned last additions, one arm for each side, their fingers catching the dusty sunlight, reaching out for help that would never arrive. 

Above the arch rested a flayed skull, its eyes dug out by your own fingers. You remembered that man specifically; the one this whole mission of yours was sculpted after. You also remembered how he had told you, hands as oily as his voice, how your aroma was so enticing that he could almost see it. Hopefully, he'd be happy now with his sockets serving as nostrils.

Nostrils to your dragon. 

Its own eyes the gaping severed throats of his fellow men, each more corrupted than the last, the torn vocal chords still nearly ringing with the screams that they had departed with. 

Almost a dozen workers of this factory battered and beaten into this creature, a live made from lives taken. 

Despite its gruesome nature, its gaping maw was more welcoming than fearful. At least, it would seem that way when found. After all, your previous finishing touch had been, well - underwhelming. You opened the satchel that you had found earlier nestled between crates, withdrawing a box of sorts. As expected, the inside held the owner's lunch.

You wrinkled your nose, the hot and musty atmosphere clearly not doing the food any favors. However, upon reluctantly sifting through it, you had just what you needed. 

A quick moment passed, and upon viewing the finality of the dragon of your dreams - and everyone else's nightmares - you accepted that you had to part with it. 

After all, every message needs delivering.