#mttpoly

Killer was not not a voyeur. It wasn’t important to think about and he didn’t tend to stick to labels so there was no use in pondering it. However, recently there had been some going-ons which had brought the topic to the forefront of his mind.

More specifically the problem was Horror and Dust. Killer had never put much thought into their weapons (not more than necessary at least) rendering it as unimportant and a stagnant factor of their characters, not something they typically switched up.

That was until one day he spotted Dust with a knife in his hand. And as if that wasn’t enough, it was one of Killer’s. It glimmered in the light, well taken care of with meaningless carvings in its handle that proved it was one of his. And yet, Dust’s reflection was in its blade, his red eye lights casting lines of light that could challenge the brightness of the sun.

And his fingers. The joints of them held the knife in a tight grip, bones pointed but not quite as abruptly as Horror’s tended to be. They were the difference between sharpened and chipped, though both dangerous in their own right.

Horror handled a knife with more diligence, not lazily and uncaring like Dust did. Probably because he didn’t want to stab himself by accident. That was quite disappointing. Seeing Horror stab himself was the greatest thing Killer could imagine experiencing.

The little knicks Dust got were good enough though. He usually didn’t even notice it, too caught up in the motions of his euphoric craze to factor in any damage that was being done to him. It was amazing to watch.

Like a machine, he didn’t stop until whoever he was up against was dusted or dead in spite of the magic leaking out of him, staining his pristine (ish) bones and leaving a trail of glistening power in its wake. Killer’s mouth watered at the sight of it, and if he was not too far away to reach he would delight in licking the magic off Dust’s bones himself.

It was a shame Horror was so cautious. Sure, he looked cool, albeit a bit less threatening than normal, swinging around a knife, but the only fluids getting on him were from other creatures. The idea of Horror and Dust fighting each other with knives was another thing altogether. A shiver went up his spine just picturing it.

Close range, Dust didn’t fare as well, though he was still a major threat. His reaction time was a little too slow and he was more likely to overestimate himself. That didn’t mean it wasn’t entertaining, if anything seeing him take unnecessary damage was exhilarating. That paired with Horror’s hard hitting attacks were pretty great. If they were fighting with knives that would almost guarantee they both bleed at least a little, all the while silver blades dance around the air, pointed and carrying with them the certainty of pain.