Author's note: Yo. This is a stupid one shot. I just wanted to do something short and 1st person POV by D. And lightly humorous. So for once we can see inside his head and what humanity really lies there. As cold and emotionless as he always seems, I personally believe there's some active humane side to everyone, even if they are the Great Hunter D.
Author's note #2: This isn't any particular vamp or situation from a book or any of my other soon-to-be fics. Just something to capture a moment.
I fall to the ground, catching myself on one knee. I breathe hard and inspect the bloodied sword I hold in one hand. Using it as a crutch, I prop myself up. Though my wounds aren't fatal, the pain is enough to squeeze a thin grimace from my lips. Again, it's amazing he didn't do worse.
Staring down at the body on the ground, that same sense of guilt overwhelms me. Ever time I slay one, it's just that cold feel of guilt. On the outside, it doesn't show. I walk around as the cold, heartless hunter. Right up front too, it doesn't matter. I feel nothing. But etched deep into my subconscious and heart of hearts, it's all there. All the guilt and sorrow. Each time it could just as easily have been me. Each time I engage into battle I never know if I'll be the one who stands triumphantly over the body, knowing I've saved a life at the cost of another, or if I'll be the one lying dead on the floor, being watched as my body turns into ash. Never am I sure if my partner will awaken me when I die. Never do I know if he will change his mind and cease to let me be. Or if it is I who lets him be. Never do I know any of this.
Each of my opponents has lived a life. Never entirely innocent, but never guilty either. Never as guilty as me. Each time I wonder, Perhaps it is I who should be disposed of. I have a goal. But I will never reach it. There are far too many of the Nobility to be dealt with. Their numbers dwindle, but so do I. Am I really destroying the Nobility, or myself?
The eyes of the Noble beneath my feet reflects my features. Seeing nothing, neither of us, we only feel the cold. He feels naught but death, I feel nothing at all. But the Cold. That is all.
That is all.
Author's note #3: Woah dude. Ok. That came out a bit more… erm emo than I meant it to. Yeah, it's like D keeps a knife in his sadly bag and cuts his wrists when Lefty isn't around. Lol, anyway. I guess there was no humor in that one. Perhaps I should try again.