sᴄᴀʀs | DemonMirrorTezca
「 ♬ 」He couldn't stop the pestering curiosity that, figuratively, ate him alive. Justin wasn't insane, but he wouldn't go as far as to say he was cured. Still, only a shadow of his former, bright and exuberant self. No one looked at him the same, nor did he them. Not that he minded, he enjoyed the quiet. The solitude. Never before had he ever wished for friends, and after all of the torment he ｓｕｆｆｅｒｅｄ, learning that no one sought his safety --he wanted them even less now. To madness he fell, and unlike everyone's precious Dr.Stein, he was left to ʀᴏᴛ.
A vile taste of bitterness was present at the mere thought of it. He mourned, even if silently, of how alone he truly was here. It was enough to make him want the sickness back. The ｍａｄｎｅｓｓ. At least then, he would have a different purpose then working here where he is seen as a monster, and who was he kidding? He was. The only man who cared for him, who ever wanted to befriend him, was a testament to that. The memory was like a dream, Justin recalled it, but he didn't feel like he was there. Which, he wasn't, only the distorted, insanity riddled creature was there. They did not care, the blood was on his hands regardless. Justin was not Stein, and therefor was unforgivable. A monster to be hunted. He almost spat bile to the ground, fist trembling, knuckles white, when he thought about it.
How dare they. He was a Deathscythe, never before had he done anything against anyone. He risked life and blood to be ｇｏｏｄ. All they did was hunt him down with the intent to k i l l. If they think they deserved his trust, his devotion, they were dead wrong. Footsteps stirred from his thoughts, knowing only one person would bother coming near him. Amazing how some people just refuse to die, he suppose he should be happy, but seeing the man was only a bitter reminder.
“ What do you want this time, Tezca? ”
