#yersin

It’s one of those nice nights, where all the trolls are out on the streets, enjoying their afternoon, the moons are beautiful and full, casting green glow on everything. And Yersin has silently moved through the crowd with blood dripping from his gloves. No one notices- anytime they look at him, meet his eyes, they’re instantly hypnotized for seconds long enough for the mute to continue his path. It’s a bold move, to kill so publically, but Yersin believed his tracks were covered. No one cared what a rust did. He was so small and barely noticeable, even with the giant hat on. 

Only he was noticeable. 

Zealjn noticed those things. 

While everyone was having a good time, he was pacing, manic. His skin itched and burned and felt like fire under his claws as he scratched the botched surgical scars through his shirt, his neck, his wrists. His quickened breathing seemed to echo in his own ears, despite his powers not being activated. Such uneasiness should have called for him to find a partner, someone to sit with and talk to. But despite coming up to almost a sweep being in the Church- he still felt like a bother. Someone Jaafaa brought along, and not his own person. 

So these nights were the times he prawled outside, looking for something to take the edge off the dayterrors- and then he saw Yersin, carrying a scalpel, wearing a medical mask, gloved up, stalking after a midblood. He watched the signs, into the alley, red light of psionics pulling the olive to a dark corner. The skill in which he dissected a troll so openly! So absent of concern, a slice behind the knees, then to the throat, then he took out his bloodpumper like this was commonplace. Something you did like getting groceries.

It’s no wonder he slinked up behind, following as he observed the small troll. Size didn’t matter- he knew he was dangerous. And observing how every troll who looked down at him, who met his eyes seemed to look away in a daze for seconds before carrying on. 

Zealjn planned accordingly. 

Close enough he could activate his powers, all the sound Zealjn made disappeared. Despite how paranoid Yersin was, he couldn’t hear a thing coming as he led his unknown assailant towards his hive. They had to cross a bridge, where the water rushing was a perfect cover. 

Making the water sound like a thundering waterfall was easy. Child’s play with Zealjn’s sound manipulation. It was loud, booming in Yersin's ears- but he didn’t know how even the smallest unexpected noise could seize Yersin’s body. 

The lowblood reached up to clutch his ears, whimpering silently as the sounds of water crushed him. It wasn’t a moment Zealjn planned to waste to observe why the doctor seemed so shaken up. No no, he wouldn’t waste this. He retargeted the noise, so instead of water it turned into a high pitched siren. And Yersin dropped to his knees. 

It was like therapy, sneaking behind him, crouching as he sank his claws into his throat. Yersin tried to look back, to meet their eyes, but Zealjn slammed his head down against the bridge’s fence faster than he could recover from the noise. Then again Zealjn smashed the side of his head, and again. 

Zealjn laughed as red blood pooled from the troll’s ears, splattering his hands and feet and face. 

Yersin never stood a chance. He had always known he was small, had calculated how to fight targets bigger than him, but he always saw himself as the stalker, the predator who moved silently, snuck up on someone. As sound sensitive as he was, he always assumed he would hear someone. How could he fight with a troll who could literally control sound? It was a matter of time really, in his line of work. 

Yersin didn’t have a chance to put up a fight- and by the time the excitement worn off, Zealjn simply stared at the lifeless body. His weird spiral eyes stopped spinning and began to fill in entirely with black. He stood up, wiping the blood off his face along with his face paint onto his shoulder. Then he picked up Yersin’s body by his arm and threw him into the river. He weighed like 90 pounds, it was surprisingly easy- and it was satisfying. One less doctor that killed for fun, one less doctor that could have been the one who hurt him. 

He felt like he had just found chamomile to put on. The itch to violence was sated and he went back to the church like nothing happened. Laughed that day with his fellow clowns, texted Musrio for another pale date, and had a relatively good day. 

Zealjn had no clue how small their social circle really was. 

And when Yersin never came home, his twin knew something was wrong, and he also texted Musrio.