@daily-writing-challenge
Daily Writing Challenge - May 2022 - Day 2 (Catch Up) - Gluttony TW: Cannibalism, mentions of gore and death. Sentences entirely in caps due to a shrieking imp. Notes: Quzkol, Silas’s imp, reflects on his warlock’s gluttony for flesh. Smallest mentions of Iranji (who is played by the other writer for this blog) and Ikezerzul (@jotaro-kuujo)
---
Boring. Bore. BORED.
Every so often- very frequently often- the old man gets like this, leaving Quzkol absolutely, undeniably bored. Most times the little imp could find something to entertain himself with and with most of those times involving getting into something troublesome. Typically, Silas would be available to keep a demon-warlock bonded ‘eye’ on him. But other times, such as now, Silas was a little preoccupied.
Quzkol probably would have found the activities that lost his master to him like this strange more often if Silas wasn’t forsaken, but when the two first met Quz was perplexed by Silas’s efficiency. See, from what he understood from what he heard, new undead could be frantic and messy about eating. There were the ones that just lost their minds entirely, neglecting the option or focusing only on that. Then the others, like the later of the former, would rip and tear and frantically dig in like animals. His buddy even told him a hilarious (though annoying to the imp) tale of a warlock who lost appendages when they were set off at the sight of raw flesh. But SIlas was different. And in the beginning Quzkol would watch, and judge as he do. With the first time, he had been undeniably emotional and desperate, but not as chaotic. Now it was almost normal. Boring.
So as Silas knelt down next to the still warm corpse and tore the chest open neatly- easily pulling flesh from itself and exposing the goodies inside. Can’t see came across their bond as it did most times Silas set upon a task such as this. Quz was familiar enough with his master now to know it wasn’t a demand, just a fact. An acknowledgement. More often than not their intentions or subconscious thoughts went across the bond first, then conscious thoughts or statements. Quz threw the old man a bone (hah!) and gave a glance over- he wasn’t focusing on anything else after all. The corpse of the dark skin elf was fairly neat in how it fell. The edges were dry, withered, and now tainted by Silas’s rot magic and singed by Quz’s fire alike. Silas had warned Quz of this one’s purpose, so he was as careful with his fire as he could be. Cooking it was probably undelectable for this sort of thing anyways. Quz scrunched his nose and curled his upper lip back at the thought of the hair and the fire. Maybe around the others, because they wouldn’t enjoy it either. With the corpse in sight, Silas was able to do the mental angling to properly get his hands in where he wanted. Avoid the rot and decay and organs suffering from mana withdraw, or whatever he needed. Did it really matter? Rather than giving the thought more effort the imp decided that this was as good entertainment as he was going to get. Skipping toward the old man, doing a flip over the fallen’s staff just cause, and without meaning to replying to the bond’s question on if he was moving as a response to a threat, (no, just bored) he found the old mans robes. Palms full of loose fabric allowed the imp to climb without disturbing the process due to familiarity of the action. As Silas pulled back a cupped handful of blood and gore to drip down his open throat, Quzkol was able to find his spot on the warlock’s shoulder. Sharp claws digging in to keep purchase as the master dipped back down for more. He had to admit, for no jaw, claws of his own, or tools, the old man was good at this. Just not quick. He was taking too long, and it was boring. We should get going he sent across the mental bond. When that was ignored, he gave a frustrating growl out loud. “The trolls are gonna be LOOKING soon.” Again, nothing. “Come on! LEAVE SOME FOR THE BUZZARDS!” Quz scrambled across the old mans shoulders to the other side, grabbing an ear as he went to keep balance. The mental bond latched claws into the hyena like scruff on the back of his neck in turn, magically and mentally pointing him back to the ground. If he couldn’t be calm, he wasn’t welcome on the shoulder. So Quz calmed down physically and just yelled.
Undeterred, the dead man calmly continued shoveling gore and meat down the hatch until the movement of brush was close enough for imp’s tall ears to catch with a twitch. Go. Obeying, he jumped off and scampered in the direction of the movement. Stationing up next to the blue plant thingy and sticking an ear out which caught the flapping of parrot wings and the chatter of two trolls. “It’s just the CREW.” Quz announced aloud and to the bond alike. He could feel Silas’s disappointment pool across their bond. Not a shame- just disappointment that he had to finish. A glance his way wouldn’t give that away at all. He was pulling himself to his bony feet and wiping the ichor from the sides of his face- not that most people would care to tell the dead man’s rot from blood of his enemies. “SIlas, if you found more plants you should have taken the hunter a-- oh.” The troll woman paused, staring down at the once withering magic-elf. She wasn’t disgusted, which was as disappointing as Silas leaving his meal, but she dropped her thought. First Mate Iranji, though, his good eye twitched. Unfortunately for him, Quz thought better of pushing it. The hunter’s gun still looked warm. “He’s ready to move on.” Quz announced flatly. Oh, an idea. Scrambling around her ankles and grabbing the leg of her pants. “HEY IKI, can I have a tuft of your fur?” This will be fun.