send me ‘✂’ and judas will kill your muse ;; accepting.
Oh, he’d always hated Doctors. Doctors of all kinds. Inexperienced, naive ones to those with years and years of experience under their heel. He hated all of them. Mad, as his Master said. Mad, the lot of them.
After all, the Vileblood should have known better than to disrupt his activities in the woods. Even if they happen to be distant neighbors living on nearly opposite ends. His duties were his own, and not for him to know.
Pulling out the mace from the other’s chest with a firm tug, Judas brought a blood-soaked hand to his own face, simply to sniff and take in its aroma at first. His lips parted involuntarily, tongue flicking out for a moment. Metallic and harsh. And sweet. It reeked of filth. Teeth bared themselves, traces of blood still on his mouth.
What would one do with some creature like him now? Perhaps toss him out for the animals of the woods to eat? Chop him up into pieces for later? Oh, but his clothes were the most exquisite part of it all. It no longer belonged to him; he was dead, what use would he have for it?
He ran his bloodied hand through his hair, pushing back strands from his vision as he huffed. Crimson eyes leered at the mess he had created. In a fit of adrenaline, he growled and smashed his face in for good measure.
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