Hello, my lovely readers! I know it has been a while since I posted but unfortunately I have no good news as of now.
I have national exams in less than a month's time. As such, I think it's best for me to focus on my academics. Because of that, I will now be taking a break from my writing. That being said, if anyone has any questions or asks, you can go ahead and write it to me.
I love all of you and am excited to come back to continue my writing! Please pray for my wellbeing and success as I will pray for all of you too! Bye-bye!
(~The Break Will Be For Approximately 3.5 Months~)
Notes- Well, I promised Ma Douce Souffrance V2 so I had to deliver, of course. Either ways, I wouldn't let this crazy plot go to waste so might as well stop procrastinating and actually start writing.
ø. don’t expect people to understand how scared you are with that stone cold face of yours
‘Don’t drown.’
You repeated to yourself, softly, like you weren’t just sinking deeper and deeper still. You were allowing yourself to. Maybe you were anticipating the cool feel of water. Cold forcing its way down your nostrils and filling up your lungs. Then you wouldn’t be able to breathe at all. You’d lose yourself within the abyss of the river you were out dipping in.
But, before you could entertain that thought, you kicked back your feet. Swam up to the surface, and took a big gasp of air as you pulled yourself up. It's a damn Tuesday afternoon, you weren't going to kill yourself over a disturbing intrusive thought.
You dried yourself with haste, and then started putting your blouse back on. So much for 'cooling down'. As soon as you were dressed, sweat started collecting at your skin again. It left a sticky sensation in its wake and you knew you'd have to shower again when you got back home. Guess that's just what living in a hot and humid place entails. You sigh and look over the horizon. Well, as much horizon was allowed before the rocky mountain ranges began.
Your hometown was a thing of beauty, really. You had no reason to be as irked by it as you were.
Scooped up in the very south of The Shaftlands, your hometown was a nice touch of tropical opulence outside of the almost cryospheric ecosystem that was there the further up North you went. But, the thing about small towns such as this is– That they're fucking boring.
And it's not the kind of boredom where you just don't have anything to do on a Sunday. No, that would certainly be a luxurious thought. But, it was the kind of boredom that made you think— What is the point in living anymore if all you could do were the same things everyone else around you were doing? Didn't that make your life meaningless?
But even when you were walking in a straight line, eyes on the same goal as everyone else's, everyone was so in your face. Putting their noses where they don't belong. Even when all you wanted was for to be left alone.
You couldn't leave. Didn't have the money to. You hadn't visited outside maybe a few villages past your own, but you watched enough television to know that the travelling expenses alone would zap away your food and living money. A small income was manageable and sometimes even convenient in the countryside. But in the city, if you wanted to have some respect without the money to show for it, you were dead meat.
So you were stuck. So stuck.
‘Always stuck with the wrong bastards…’
The last thought flirted with you. You didn't have any particular reason to really think about it. But it played in your head like all of the other cryptic messages you gave to yourself that never really made sense. You shook your head, mostly to shake the thought out of you. It worked partially. But the discomfort settling comfortably in the bottom of your heart wouldn't get rid of itself so easily.
But, oh my sweet love. You don't know what discomfort is.
Not yet. But you will learn. Everything around you is aching to teach you. And when you do learn, you'll beg for the boredom to come back. For a moment to just be able to breathe for once. But by then, you'll be way too deep into the abyss, with no way to swim back up.
You scattered fish food for the koi swimming around in the river. The weather was getting colder now as the day gave way to evening. Not uncommon at all during monsoon. Hot days, rainy evenings and cold nights. And from the way a small, gentle drizzle of rain had started up, you were expecting a more tolerable temperature by night time.
You turned back, getting ready to return home when just for a moment, the whole forest went quiet. Not a single leaf shook and even the cicadas were too scared to buzz. The pitter-patter of the rain fell silent, sounding muffled. In the distance, a loud and deafening sound went off.
Crack!
It started bouncing off of the trees just as quickly as it ended. But, that's weird.
If someone's hunting, they'd have to be going for deers. There are no other animals to hunt in these parts of the forests. None you'd need a supersonic rifle– as the report would imply– to hunt. But, why are they way back here though? They should know that there are more targets for them up front.
And really, it's getting dark. Why are they out hunting at this hour? And hunting deers during monsoon? That would be most inconvenient. The villagers here know better than to do that... Your face scrunched up in confusion, 'This is absurd.'
No, this is way too weird.
In the distance, you heard footsteps. They fell slowly, unhurried. Relaxed but determined, as if the person knew where they were heading.
They were heading your way.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
The leaves crunched helplessly under their feet. The footsteps became closer, becoming this gross squelching noise as the rain muddied the soil beneath their feet. You couldn't hear them before, but now they were clear. The closer they became, the more your heart seemed to struggle against your ribcage. Now wasn't the time to panic, but you didn't have the time to sit with that thought.
Instincts took over. Did they know where you were? It wasn't looking too good for you. You certainly didn't want to come face to face with them. What if it was that weird kid Lucas? You knew it was him. You knew that fucking kid would turn out to be a murderer. Knew it since the day you heard that he overblotted.
You ran to the nearest bush. Ducking under, you pressed yourself back on the thick tangle of leaves, heart beating erratically right in your eardrums. The wet branches enveloped you and the thorns dug into your skin. It stung a bit when you moved, but that was only a reminder for you to stay still. You were covered enough in the thicket, making the intruder visible to you but making you invisible to them.
Yet, you couldn't seem to get yourself to calm down. You thought restlessly to yourself, ‘Just relax.’
Slowly, on the opposite side of the landscape, the dark silhouette became more and more visible. You squinted your eyes to see who it was, and estimate how deeply fucked you were. Through the thick bushes, you saw him as he finally came to a standstill under the dimming sunlight.
He was considerably tall and broad shouldered, the mass under his dark hunting apparel promised a strength you couldn’t possibly compete with.
His long golden hair was mostly tied back, and his bangs were plastered to his temples as drops of rain ran down his face. Even in the darkness, his green eyes, that had an oddly demented quality to them, shone brightly. Like a radioactive, toxic green cutting through the atmosphere. He stood with perfect ease, casually cradling a rifle in his right arm.
That wasn’t Lucas, no.
You didn’t even know this man, he was a stranger. Never seen him in the town before. Worse. Alongside the clear and pure rainwater, there was a crimson liquid all over his camo jacket, slowly washing off in thick rivulets. Blood.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening? Seriously!
The sirens in your head went off. All of them blared ‘Murderer!’ over and over again. Is that how your story would end? Getting your head blasted off by a psychopathic murderer with a firearm and no one can really tell who he is since he’s a fucking outsider during trading season? In any case, is this all he’s here for? Killing? Or is he one of the merchants?
Fuck. it’s not the time to think of that.
The man in question had a cheerful smile shamelessly playing on his lips, one that reached up to his eyes and lit them up with the glimmer of a thousand stars. You'd think that kind of display of joy could even be contagious if it wasn’t scaring the soul out of your body right now. Your eyes followed his ones as he looked around, seemingly looking for something. Did he hear your footsteps? You tried to be quiet.
You knew it wasn’t exactly possible to spot you through the thick leaves. Not unless he had the eyes of a hawk. But almost to mock your assurance, he started moving again, closer to the bush that you’d chosen as a haven away from him. He moved in long strides, stopping only perhaps two to three feet away from you now.
From that distance, you could smell the scent of blood. He reeked of it. It burned through your nostril and hit you straight in the back of your head. But what made the bile finally rise up your throat was the implications of where that blood might have come from. Oh God, you didn't even want to think about it. You just hope he'd leave already and this nightmares would finally be over.
Meanwhile, his gaze swept over the undergrowth just for a moment, and then finally locked onto yours. Just like that.
‘Wait, what?’
His smile widened, if that was even possible. His face suddenly had the warmth of someone who had seen an old friend after a long time. He chirped, his deep tone sounding misplaced with his cheerful intonation, “Bonjour, mademoiselle. How curious to see someone intentionally placing themselves within those bushes! Are you hiding yourself from me? Magnifique, how I enjoy the hunt!”
You were looking him in the eyes and he was looking right back at you, so you knew he knew you were there. And you knew that what he was saying was directed at you. Should you look away? Maybe you should stand up? Say something back? Would he spare you if you greeted him? But then, you could only gape like a beached fish and really, your mouth was feeling rather awfully dry.
Your eyes flickered between his face and the blood and soon he got the memo. He looked down at himself and then you, the manic look in his eyes taking a momentary precedence as he threw his head back and laughed like a man who was thoroughly amused, “Non non, mon chérie. This–”, he pointed at the stains with the back of his rifle, not reassuring to you at all, shaking his head “Is not what you think. Not at all!”
He paused, eyes back on yours again, “This is venison. Deer. Do I look so cruel as to simply take a person's life? Ah, that is the utmost opposite of beauty and would defy every law of it!”
He looked pained as he declared that, and had started clutching his chest with his free hand.
You furrowed your brows, a bit puzzled. Um. Why is he talking about… beauty, of all things? And does he expect you to just trust him? Perhaps share your philosophical take on the matter? If you were out in public, then maybe it would be a different case and you wouldn't feel as conscious of him as you are feeling now. But with you being all alone? And a rifle in his hands? With the way he towered over you?
Absolutely not.
This time, he took a step back, putting a respectable distance between the two of you as he further explained himself, “Mainly, I delight in the hunt. But also, Nature gives me my due and I use it for all its worth. After all, to not do so would be to dishonour Her graciousness.”
Seeing you still quiet, he opened his mouth again. He just doesn't stop, does he-?
“Today’s hunt was simply for supper. And well… For my hobby, taxidermy. I only take what’s needed so fret not, I will not put you up as part of the game. Not unless you ask me to,” he ended his spiel on a mischievous note, with a quick wink.
You physically cringed from that, nails digging into your palms to ground yourself. You think you got it finally. This guy might even not be a murderer, but he’s sure to be a creep. Yet, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. There was a certain feel around him that made you think he wanted you here, scared. And while you didn’t entertain him just because, you held on till you found a perfect time to escape.
Then again, you might have just been imagining that part because of paranoia. Wouldn’t be the first time you did something stupid in the face of danger. That’s why you lost everything, didn’t you? Because, you’re just so damn…
You were coming down with a fever. You knew it, the burning sensation on your face wasn’t just because you were scared. You were, and it was starting to make you ill. Your heartbeat was only growing louder by the second, you covered your ears to make it stop. To just make everything stop. Get yourself out of here and back in your bed again. Or maybe back at work. You'd choose that over being murdered here like this.
Too many sensations were probing at you at the same time and it was starting to feel like they were trying to antagonize you. It was all becoming way too much.
The thorns digging into your face and arms, your now damp clothes pressing to your skin, your knees cold and heavy as mud caked over it. The slight sting in your palm from where you hurt it, the comforting rainwater that now felt like ice pricking at your skin and those cicadas. Damn them, they were so quiet a moment ago. Then, why do their buzzing sound like they're inside your head now?
Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, falling down in a quick stream down your face. You didn't sniff or choke or try to stop yourself. You're sure that if that man saw you through the thick tangles, then he could see your tears even when it basically blended itself with the rain. He looked like he still had something else left to say but then stopped himself, and pursed his lips. His smile had dimmed and he now had a neutral expression on his face.
Somehow, he looked better like that. He looked safer without a smile, even when it's usually the opposite that's the case when it came to most other people.
Finally, he turned around, heading for the river. You wiped your tears quickly and squinted your eyes through the thicket, trying to grasp what he was going for. You watched him as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. After dampening it with the river water, he cleaned his rifle and his bloodied jacket with it.
And then, as if forgetting all decorum, he washed the blood-sodden cloth in the river, wrung it out and shoved it back in his pocket. So much for ever going back swimming in that river again. Nope, not happening.
He was walking away. Finally. But then, as he was about to disappear into the woods, he looked back. Not fully, but just enough that you could see the serene smile on his lips, though you couldn't see his eyes with the way shadow fell over them, “It was an utmost pleasure to get to meet you today. I hope to the stars that we should get to meet another day and be properly introduced.”
Then a pause that only lasted one heartbeat.
“Au revoir.”
He disappeared into the woods just as simply as he appeared from it. This time, you couldn't hear his footsteps as he left. Did he stop? Waiting for you to come out? Well, hunters did usually know how to suppress the sound of their footsteps. But then again, he could've just stopped to watch you.
You didn't count on that thought. Basically pushed it down your throat to suppress it. After a while had passed, you got up to your feet and started cleaning off dirt off your knees. You only dirtied your hands in the process, since it wasn't dry soil that was stuck to your knees after all. It was mud. You stumbled back home that night. Safe. Not coming face to face with him nor with anybody else.
Though the hundreds of micro wounds that the thorns and the insects had caused were making themselves ever present. And your knees were almost bucking from being on them for such a long time, you pulled through. Better than being dead, you comforted yourself.
Maybe. Probably not.
If you've made it so far, thank you for reading! I would appreciate any interaction. Comments on what I could have done better are also appreciated. If you liked the story, be sure to tell me too. And reblog it as much as you can ♥︎
Notes- Well, I promised Ma Douce Souffrance V2 so I had to deliver, of course. Either ways, I wouldn't let this crazy plot go to waste so might as well stop procrastinating and actually start writing.
ø. don’t expect people to understand how scared you are with that stone cold face of yours
‘Don’t drown.’
You repeated to yourself, softly, like you weren’t just sinking deeper and deeper still. You were allowing yourself to. Maybe you were anticipating the cool feel of water. Cold forcing its way down your nostrils and filling up your lungs. Then you wouldn’t be able to breathe at all. You’d lose yourself within the abyss of the river you were out dipping in.
But, before you could entertain that thought, you kicked back your feet. Swam up to the surface, and took a big gasp of air as you pulled yourself up. It's a damn Tuesday afternoon, you weren't going to kill yourself over a disturbing intrusive thought.
You dried yourself with haste, and then started putting your blouse back on. So much for 'cooling down'. As soon as you were dressed, sweat started collecting at your skin again. It left a sticky sensation in its wake and you knew you'd have to shower again when you got back home. Guess that's just what living in a hot and humid place entails. You sigh and look over the horizon. Well, as much horizon was allowed before the rocky mountain ranges began.
Your hometown was a thing of beauty, really. You had no reason to be as irked by it as you were.
Scooped up in the very south of The Shaftlands, your hometown was a nice touch of tropical opulence outside of the almost cryospheric ecosystem that was there the further up North you went. But, the thing about small towns such as this is– That they're fucking boring.
And it's not the kind of boredom where you just don't have anything to do on a Sunday. No, that would certainly be a luxurious thought. But, it was the kind of boredom that made you think— What is the point in living anymore if all you could do were the same things everyone else around you were doing? Didn't that make your life meaningless?
But even when you were walking in a straight line, eyes on the same goal as everyone else's, everyone was so in your face. Putting their noses where they don't belong. Even when all you wanted was for to be left alone.
You couldn't leave. Didn't have the money to. You hadn't visited outside maybe a few villages past your own, but you watched enough television to know that the travelling expenses alone would zap away your food and living money. A small income was manageable and sometimes even convenient in the countryside. But in the city, if you wanted to have some respect without the money to show for it, you were dead meat.
So you were stuck. So stuck.
‘Always stuck with the wrong bastards…’
The last thought flirted with you. You didn't have any particular reason to really think about it. But it played in your head like all of the other cryptic messages you gave to yourself that never really made sense. You shook your head, mostly to shake the thought out of you. It worked partially. But the discomfort settling comfortably in the bottom of your heart wouldn't get rid of itself so easily.
But, oh my sweet love. You don't know what discomfort is.
Not yet. But you will learn. Everything around you is aching to teach you. And when you do learn, you'll beg for the boredom to come back. For a moment to just be able to breathe for once. But by then, you'll be way too deep into the abyss, with no way to swim back up.
You scattered fish food for the koi swimming around in the river. The weather was getting colder now as the day gave way to evening. Not uncommon at all during monsoon. Hot days, rainy evenings and cold nights. And from the way a small, gentle drizzle of rain had started up, you were expecting a more tolerable temperature by night time.
You turned back, getting ready to return home when just for a moment, the whole forest went quiet. Not a single leaf shook and even the cicadas were too scared to buzz. The pitter-patter of the rain fell silent, sounding muffled. In the distance, a loud and deafening sound went off.
Crack!
It started bouncing off of the trees just as quickly as it ended. But, that's weird.
If someone's hunting, they'd have to be going for deers. There are no other animals to hunt in these parts of the forests. None you'd need a supersonic rifle– as the report would imply– to hunt. But, why are they way back here though? They should know that there are more targets for them up front.
And really, it's getting dark. Why are they out hunting at this hour? And hunting deers during monsoon? That would be most inconvenient. The villagers here know better than to do that... Your face scrunched up in confusion, 'This is absurd.'
No, this is way too weird.
In the distance, you heard footsteps. They fell slowly, unhurried. Relaxed but determined, as if the person knew where they were heading.
They were heading your way.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
The leaves crunched helplessly under their feet. The footsteps became closer, becoming this gross squelching noise as the rain muddied the soil beneath their feet. You couldn't hear them before, but now they were clear. The closer they became, the more your heart seemed to struggle against your ribcage. Now wasn't the time to panic, but you didn't have the time to sit with that thought.
Instincts took over. Did they know where you were? It wasn't looking too good for you. You certainly didn't want to come face to face with them. What if it was that weird kid Lucas? You knew it was him. You knew that fucking kid would turn out to be a murderer. Knew it since the day you heard that he overblotted.
You ran to the nearest bush. Ducking under, you pressed yourself back on the thick tangle of leaves, heart beating erratically right in your eardrums. The wet branches enveloped you and the thorns dug into your skin. It stung a bit when you moved, but that was only a reminder for you to stay still. You were covered enough in the thicket, making the intruder visible to you but making you invisible to them.
Yet, you couldn't seem to get yourself to calm down. You thought restlessly to yourself, ‘Just relax.’
Slowly, on the opposite side of the landscape, the dark silhouette became more and more visible. You squinted your eyes to see who it was, and estimate how deeply fucked you were. Through the thick bushes, you saw him as he finally came to a standstill under the dimming sunlight.
He was considerably tall and broad shouldered, the mass under his dark hunting apparel promised a strength you couldn’t possibly compete with.
His long golden hair was mostly tied back, and his bangs were plastered to his temples as drops of rain ran down his face. Even in the darkness, his green eyes, that had an oddly demented quality to them, shone brightly. Like a radioactive, toxic green cutting through the atmosphere. He stood with perfect ease, casually cradling a rifle in his right arm.
That wasn’t Lucas, no.
You didn’t even know this man, he was a stranger. Never seen him in the town before. Worse. Alongside the clear and pure rainwater, there was a crimson liquid all over his camo jacket, slowly washing off in thick rivulets. Blood.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening? Seriously!
The sirens in your head went off. All of them blared ‘Murderer!’ over and over again. Is that how your story would end? Getting your head blasted off by a psychopathic murderer with a firearm and no one can really tell who he is since he’s a fucking outsider during trading season? In any case, is this all he’s here for? Killing? Or is he one of the merchants?
Fuck. it’s not the time to think of that.
The man in question had a cheerful smile shamelessly playing on his lips, one that reached up to his eyes and lit them up with the glimmer of a thousand stars. You'd think that kind of display of joy could even be contagious if it wasn’t scaring the soul out of your body right now. Your eyes followed his ones as he looked around, seemingly looking for something. Did he hear your footsteps? You tried to be quiet.
You knew it wasn’t exactly possible to spot you through the thick leaves. Not unless he had the eyes of a hawk. But almost to mock your assurance, he started moving again, closer to the bush that you’d chosen as a haven away from him. He moved in long strides, stopping only perhaps two to three feet away from you now.
From that distance, you could smell the scent of blood. He reeked of it. It burned through your nostril and hit you straight in the back of your head. But what made the bile finally rise up your throat was the implications of where that blood might have come from. Oh God, you didn't even want to think about it. You just hope he'd leave already and this nightmares would finally be over.
Meanwhile, his gaze swept over the undergrowth just for a moment, and then finally locked onto yours. Just like that.
‘Wait, what?’
His smile widened, if that was even possible. His face suddenly had the warmth of someone who had seen an old friend after a long time. He chirped, his deep tone sounding misplaced with his cheerful intonation, “Bonjour, mademoiselle. How curious to see someone intentionally placing themselves within those bushes! Are you hiding yourself from me? Magnifique, how I enjoy the hunt!”
You were looking him in the eyes and he was looking right back at you, so you knew he knew you were there. And you knew that what he was saying was directed at you. Should you look away? Maybe you should stand up? Say something back? Would he spare you if you greeted him? But then, you could only gape like a beached fish and really, your mouth was feeling rather awfully dry.
Your eyes flickered between his face and the blood and soon he got the memo. He looked down at himself and then you, the manic look in his eyes taking a momentary precedence as he threw his head back and laughed like a man who was thoroughly amused, “Non non, mon chérie. This–”, he pointed at the stains with the back of his rifle, not reassuring to you at all, shaking his head “Is not what you think. Not at all!”
He paused, eyes back on yours again, “This is venison. Deer. Do I look so cruel as to simply take a person's life? Ah, that is the utmost opposite of beauty and would defy every law of it!”
He looked pained as he declared that, and had started clutching his chest with his free hand.
You furrowed your brows, a bit puzzled. Um. Why is he talking about… beauty, of all things? And does he expect you to just trust him? Perhaps share your philosophical take on the matter? If you were out in public, then maybe it would be a different case and you wouldn't feel as conscious of him as you are feeling now. But with you being all alone? And a rifle in his hands? With the way he towered over you?
Absolutely not.
This time, he took a step back, putting a respectable distance between the two of you as he further explained himself, “Mainly, I delight in the hunt. But also, Nature gives me my due and I use it for all its worth. After all, to not do so would be to dishonour Her graciousness.”
Seeing you still quiet, he opened his mouth again. He just doesn't stop, does he-?
“Today’s hunt was simply for supper. And well… For my hobby, taxidermy. I only take what’s needed so fret not, I will not put you up as part of the game. Not unless you ask me to,” he ended his spiel on a mischievous note, with a quick wink.
You physically cringed from that, nails digging into your palms to ground yourself. You think you got it finally. This guy might even not be a murderer, but he’s sure to be a creep. Yet, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. There was a certain feel around him that made you think he wanted you here, scared. And while you didn’t entertain him just because, you held on till you found a perfect time to escape.
Then again, you might have just been imagining that part because of paranoia. Wouldn’t be the first time you did something stupid in the face of danger. That’s why you lost everything, didn’t you? Because, you’re just so damn…
You were coming down with a fever. You knew it, the burning sensation on your face wasn’t just because you were scared. You were, and it was starting to make you ill. Your heartbeat was only growing louder by the second, you covered your ears to make it stop. To just make everything stop. Get yourself out of here and back in your bed again. Or maybe back at work. You'd choose that over being murdered here like this.
Too many sensations were probing at you at the same time and it was starting to feel like they were trying to antagonize you. It was all becoming way too much.
The thorns digging into your face and arms, your now damp clothes pressing to your skin, your knees cold and heavy as mud caked over it. The slight sting in your palm from where you hurt it, the comforting rainwater that now felt like ice pricking at your skin and those cicadas. Damn them, they were so quiet a moment ago. Then, why do their buzzing sound like they're inside your head now?
Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, falling down in a quick stream down your face. You didn't sniff or choke or try to stop yourself. You're sure that if that man saw you through the thick tangles, then he could see your tears even when it basically blended itself with the rain. He looked like he still had something else left to say but then stopped himself, and pursed his lips. His smile had dimmed and he now had a neutral expression on his face.
Somehow, he looked better like that. He looked safer without a smile, even when it's usually the opposite that's the case when it came to most other people.
Finally, he turned around, heading for the river. You wiped your tears quickly and squinted your eyes through the thicket, trying to grasp what he was going for. You watched him as he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. After dampening it with the river water, he cleaned his rifle and his bloodied jacket with it.
And then, as if forgetting all decorum, he washed the blood-sodden cloth in the river, wrung it out and shoved it back in his pocket. So much for ever going back swimming in that river again. Nope, not happening.
He was walking away. Finally. But then, as he was about to disappear into the woods, he looked back. Not fully, but just enough that you could see the serene smile on his lips, though you couldn't see his eyes with the way shadow fell over them, “It was an utmost pleasure to get to meet you today. I hope to the stars that we should get to meet another day and be properly introduced.”
Then a pause that only lasted one heartbeat.
“Au revoir.”
He disappeared into the woods just as simply as he appeared from it. This time, you couldn't hear his footsteps as he left. Did he stop? Waiting for you to come out? Well, hunters did usually know how to suppress the sound of their footsteps. But then again, he could've just stopped to watch you.
You didn't count on that thought. Basically pushed it down your throat to suppress it. After a while had passed, you got up to your feet and started cleaning off dirt off your knees. You only dirtied your hands in the process, since it wasn't dry soil that was stuck to your knees after all. It was mud. You stumbled back home that night. Safe. Not coming face to face with him nor with anybody else.
Though the hundreds of micro wounds that the thorns and the insects had caused were making themselves ever present. And your knees were almost bucking from being on them for such a long time, you pulled through. Better than being dead, you comforted yourself.
Maybe. Probably not.
If you've made it so far, thank you for reading! I would appreciate any interaction. Comments on what I could have done better are also appreciated. If you liked the story, be sure to tell me too. And reblog it as much as you can ♥︎
“If you want to exist only under my eyes then you must grant me the gift of your eternity.”
For Rook Hunt, beauty and the hunt had always gone hand by hand, though never mixing together. Then he meets (Name), a woman who shouldn't exist in his world, but somehow fit too perfectly into it. As blood seeps into the soil of her quiet town, fascination festers into devotion, and devotion into something much worse.
Rook had finally found his masterpiece— As she waited eagerly to bleed for his art.
°˖➴ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs (ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟʟʏ)
NSFW, Yandere, Extreme Angst, Unhealthy Relationships, Blood, Extreme Violence, Gore, Attempted Murder, Serial Murdering, Depressive Thoughts, Self Harming, Hallucinations, Character Death, Human Taxidermy, No Happy Ending, Rook is a whole trigger warning of his own.
CW: Being stuck in a nightmare, blood, gore, physical abuse, Jade is a warning himself
WC: 1.4k+
Note- This is actually the prologue to my original story but it was in my draft for months so I edited it a bit and posted it for Jade since it fits well enough
ø. flickering light is not an auspicious symbol. especially not when it makes you lose sight of that man currently behind you who has been following you since yesterday evening.
The already dim light was flickering restlessly in a rhythm that started to annoy you, and cause a bit of a pulsating throb at the core of your head.
A dull pain creeped up to your eyes. It pricked around those glassy eyeballs like the silent footfalls of a black widow till it set at the back of your sockets, tugging at your ophthalmic veins in a way that made you want to get your eyes smashed into your skull, if only to subdue its insistent pain. You fluttered your eyelids shut, trying to block the light out. Trying to relieve yourself of some of the pain it caused.
But they pierced through sharply, as if intending to melt off your eyes. So then, whether you kept your eyes shut or wide open, the effect of the light weighed on you all the same. That pain. That agony. That annoyance. That tug.
"Does the light not bother you?" you creeped your eyes open, looking at the man before you with a bit of an awed expression.
You were sat on a chair and to your opposite, across the long dining table, was a young man. He was stood up, wiping the already pristine surface of the marbled table, the man seemed wholly unaffected by the flickering lights. He stopped for a second to look at you, mismatched hues of citrine and juniper boring into you in a way that made you infinitely uncomfortable. You suddenly started feeling itchy, and in a way you knew that even if you scratched your skin off, it would be of no help.
"You keep repeating this question," he states curiously, voice calm yet quite apparently jocund, almost like a crazed scientist making observations about his newest subject of madness. He continued on explaining to you, "You asked this when I first took you here. You asked this before you had the soup, while you were having soup, after you had the soup, before you fell asleep– You were even mumbling it in your sleep.
"Soup?" you asked, not being able to remember what that man was talking about. For all you cared, you could've been kidnapped. But you knew that wasn't true. Because from the corners of your eyes, not missed by your peripheral by a scarce scope were the inklings of what you could at best describe as floating spirals in the air.
You daren't look their way, something about them oddly haunting. Haunting enough that you realised that you were stuck in the land of dreams, or perhaps delusions, where the comfort provided by objective reality was absent.
The man in front of you put down the ruby rug that he held in his hands, dusting invisible dirt off his hands with a nearly robotic precision. A bodily mannerism, when received along with his cold gaze, that made you feel like staring into the solitary orbs of a high-functioning but yet not sentient cyborg.
The flickering lights that turned on and off made him blend into the vast nothingness beyond the limits of your vision as he was moving closer to you, silently sliding his feet against the rugged floor, stifling his footsteps much like a predator who had set eyes on his prey. It's as if he kept appearing closer and closer to you out of thin air. You could see the faintest hint of a smile creeping to his face as he approached you. Something that seemed like he saw himself as the victor of some game you both were playing.
He sat down on the chair beside you, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. He looked relaxed, like he knew what was happening. Upon a closer observation, it felt like you knew this man. But you couldn't put a name to the porcelain visage in front of you. Looking at him filled you with anxiety and a sort of sadness, you didn't know why you would associate those feelings with a stranger.
You weren't sure if that was because you were lost in his eyes– that looked back at you in the shape of two previously carved jewels rather than an honest reflection of his thoughts– but it felt like a lot of time had passed before he opened his mouth, choosing to reply to the question you had asked initially, though at his own pace, "It's not bothering me. Like I've said, I'm used to it."
He seemed like he had more to say. You kept your mouth shut, still looking at him. You weren't sure why he was so... enticing, for the lack of a better word. His countenance was hollow, yet he seemed at the centre of what currently existed around you. The centre of this reality within a dream, the dream that never felt like a dream, despite much evidence to prove it as one.
The conflicting stream of thoughts that teetered you in between the world of dream and reality was quickly broken when you felt a sharp sting on your face as your face was forced to snap to sideways by his hands. That's because he slapped you. 'He…'
"Can you not damn hear me?! I keep telling you to eat up!"
You looked back at him and he wasn't looking at you. His whole body was facing away from you, and he was rather busy pouring a glass of what you thought was red wine. He noticed you looking a bit dumbfounded and asked you, concern skimpily hiding his malevolence, "Why are you looking at me that way? Does the food not suit your tastes?"
"You j-just slapped me..." you accused.
"Excuse me?" he furrowed his brows, as if genuinely offended. But it only lasted for a moment, a moment where your life flashed in front of your eyes when you finally thought you had reached your impending doom all too soon from angering him. After that, he was alright again, teasing with a slight melodious sway to his voice, "Oh, you must be so hungry, you can't even think right!"
He handed you the glass and you accepted with shaky hands. For a second you swore you could see eyeballs swimming around in the midst of velvety liquid. And you could also swear that for a second that velvety liquid let off the most metallic, dizzying smell of blood that made your own blood rush to your head.
But just as the light above you flickered again, it returned back to a normal glass of wine. It looked delicious enough for you to want to taste it a bit.
"It won't uh.. make me fall asleep like the soup, right?"
"Why would you assume it is the soup that made you fall asleep?"
"Because…"– 'Because it's fucking apparent,' is what you wanted to yell back, but knowing better you looked at teal-haired man in front of you before nodding, "Just a passing thought."
He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for you to take a bit of your food. You hadn't even noticed it yet, but once your eyes finally met the dish that had appeared in front of you out of thin air, your breath hitched. Bile raised to your throat till you could feel its acidity poking you at the back of your tongue.
In front of you, combined with an oddly common side dish of mashed potatoes, was the heart of a human. Blood oozed out of it as it was still bleeding, filling up the edges of the plate, threatening to spill over. You wanted to protest, you wanted to cuss him out for expecting you to eat this. But the words got stuck in your throat along with saliva and vomit before they could make their way out.
You knew he was moving, but weren't sure how exactly he was. The plate in front of you transfixed you in a repulsive way and you couldn't look away. It was overwhelming, suffocating. What didn't help was that the flickering of the light became more frequent and the sound of his fingers lightly drumming into the hard table started blaring in your ears.
There came a command, static and buzzy. But over all that, final. Inarguable.
"Eat."
You picked up the tasteful cutlery beside the dish to dine on what would be the last meal of this ominous phantasmagoria as the spirals had made their way towards you and started wrapping you in the circular maze of their existence.
You wouldn't have thought those spirals could move.
Be sure to share to interact if you liked the story. Leave a comment maybe, if you'd be so kind. Till then, next time ♡
just wondering were you the one who wrote that one yandere rook x lovesick reader angst fic called “ma douce souffrance”? If so, will u ever repost it?😓
I absolutely loved it and other people I showed it to liked it as well and when I went to show another friend of mine it was gone and deleted😣😣
Hey! Yes, you're correct. I'm the one who wrote that story. I'm actually planning to repost it as soon as I make it a bit more elaborate and longer, and the plot more well rounded overall. So yes, it'll be back up again soon enough. Better than before, I hope.
