tell me a story, lamb.
There were two boys, as close as brothers.
They lived in the same village, a very very long time ago.
And yet, both were odd children, fascinated by the wonder of death.
And of course, they began to experiment, seeing how they could create death, and seeing how their subjects would embrace their ends.
they must not have always embraced it?
No. Some did not. Some chose to run and flee from the snap of the jaws, and others would accept the fleeting finality.
They were both still fascinated by death, regardless of their differing perspectives.
were they ever lonely?
Never. They always had each other.
Before long they had become bored of their subjects, and chose to leave for other lands.
They went to a city of emerald, where death freely roamed the streets, where—
where they could chase? and hunt? and take?
Yes. They did all of the catching and killing and claiming.
did they die?
It was destined that they'd meet death themselves.
One was found dead, a knife in his back and cold under the rain. One was found, asleep in his bed with the warm breath gone.
And then they were found. By a man who liked to experiment with death.
He choose to put them together, that they may be as one.
They were whole. They were—
stolen from us!
Yes. Perhaps they were.
But even as they managed to walk and live again, they were in pain. They were lonely. It had the paleness of death and the murkiness of theft. It was incomplete, an abomination.
was it sad?
Yes. And it was sent by the man to do his simple work.
were they lonely? even together?
Very lonely.
i shiver, yet there is no wind.
No, there is not.
were they angry? did they chase and snap and spit?
They were not. Rather, they chose to split themselves, that they may be separate once more.
and always be together?
Yes. They were never lonely after that.