Warning !! Gore and lifesteal-typical violence. — A LS!Pangili ficlet —
Pili made a mistake. A relapse, if you will. He stole a taste of something brand new and shockingly addictive, yet so familiar.
It was all Pangi's fault, you see... Just his name popping into his thoughts was enough for Pili to grind his teeth in frustration, an old habit. He visualized the name for a calming moment, bright orange letters, and all capitalized. The dot of the 'i' smudged like an afterthought.
It was surprising how... Normal, they had both been about everything. Having to coexist in this world now, which was essentially Pangi's homeland. They had quickly adapted to the distance between them, a change from the usual magnetism that defined the two of them.
But they got used to drifting like strangers in a room full of people. It was easier than expected, since no one knew of their... Prior affinities.
It was bizarre all the same. Like the world had flipped upside down. Yet, only the two of them knew, so it was manageable.
But, Pili is a greedy creature. Maybe.
At that moment though, he had many reasons to kill Pangi. To prove something, perhaps was the biggest one. Immature and foolish. To laugh at whatever god-like entity deemed it necessary or funny to make him go through so many deaths by Pangi's hand. Prove a point to his own inconvenient thread of destiny.
Or, to prove a point to himself maybe, or to Pangi. It would serve to tell Pangi not to think of messing with him. To tell him that things were different here, consequential and just different.
To remind himself that he wouldn't indulge, that things couldn't be so simple anymore.
Truth was, there were many reasons he killed Pangi that day, as there were many reasons Pili let himself be killed in the past. It was a sinful type of indulgence, for both of them. He knew, he just knew the pangolin felt it too.
Late at night, or closer to dawn, when he finally laid in his bed, Pili would trace the scar left on his chest right over his heart. Pierced twice, as if to make sure it'd stay a little longer. He lamented the loss of the amethyst crystals that used to grow out of that scar. Now, it was just a star-shaped mess of sensitive pink skin where his fur didn't regrow.
He could have easily dismissed the scar. He could have left it behind in his old body, in another world where it belonged. But he just couldn't let go of it.
Scars are like trophies. Pili used to tell friends all the time, faceless mortals who agonized over the insecurities that their healing flesh brought them.
The arrow scar over his heart meant many things. It was hatred and pain, it was love, yearning. It was a reminder of the night he met Zam too, a sad and yet blissful memory. It was some of his and Pangi's goodbyes, too. Moments that at the time were laughably finite, before either of them realized just how ridiculously intertwined their fates were.
For some stupid reason, Pili thought killing Pangi for the first time would be inconsequential. He thought he could drive a sword through him and get his heart, and keep being normal.
When he approached his prey, Pili remembered just how good it felt each time. Pangi's axe slashing cleanly through his ribcage, his arrows piercing just the right places, his fists pummeling against armorless skin, hoping to get to something lethal. It was desperate and filthy, like chasing a high.
He knew Pangi enjoyed it too. His eyes always burnt so brightly, with a passion and an intensity that knocked the air out of Pili's lungs. It was far more special than any kiss they had shared, any moments laying down and giggling together, sharing cuddles under soft sheets.
He wanted to make it just as good for Pangi.
And although they were strangers now... Although they couldn't, or shouldn't, go back to the codependency and the magnetism that fueled their passion... In that moment he had to pretend.
The first hit of Pili's sword took the pangolin by surprise. Pangi fell to the ground with the force of the impact and Pili was quick to follow, pouncing.
He only had a split second to make his decision, where to hit, where to cut, where to leave a twin scar, a gift he owed him. His payback.
The blade came down just below Pangi's throat, opening his jugular in the process. Pili let it trail with purpose, down his collarbones, and to his chest where the sword sank as far as it could go. Through diamond armor, through skin and bones. Hopefully he hit his heart.
Pili's chest seized, his nerves lit up. He watched the expression on the man underneath him morph, unsure, something like rage, but some longing too. A glint of recognition in his blue eyes, like the look of someone who had just remembered the rules of an old game and lost it.
Before Pili knew it, he had gotten a taste. His chin dripped with blood, Pangi was dead beneath him. Power surged through him, euphoric and horribly addictive.
It wasn't before a day or so later, when Pili realized he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, that he understood, maybe, how fucked he was. He had done it for good reasons at the time, but now, in hindsight, it was all so impulsive, and kind of self destructive. Chasing the high.
To prove a point, right. Who was he kidding? Pangi was not one to back down from a challenge...
Pili found the star-like scar on his chest with the tip of his claws. It was more sensitive than it had been in a while. His heartbeat picked up with excitement.
Goddamnit. He couldn't wait to see what his pangolin was planning. What his revenge would taste like.
