Xirysa Says: Hm? Karel? Baby-eating, "Imma kill yoo" psychopathic Karelget the chapter on charity? Hell yeah.
Seraphic Wings
The Third Wing: Charity
Starring: Karel
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char·i·ty (char-i-tee): generous actions or donations to aid the poor, ill, or helpless
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The cold night air stank of blood.
It hung, thick and heavy, over the parched earth and mingled with the screams of men who writhed it agony, awaiting death's cold embrace.
The fools. The poor, weak, pathetic fools.
He smiled, feral and wild, as his blade slid between the ribs of his opponent. No, they weren't totally incompetent. They had, after all, given him a nice time. He hadn't had this much fun in months, and his blade had been thirsty.
Delicious.
The man he had just stabbed gurgled and gell to the ground in a tangle of limbs that twitched spasmodically from time to time. A few moments later, the body was still and forgotten as another fighter took his place.
The blade of the Wo Dao was parched. Tonight, that thirst would be quenched.
Glinting in the moonlight, demon and sword feasted upon the screams of dying men and the lifeblood that flowed, hot and thick and crimson, from their wounds. He danced between his opponents, orchestrating a song of death and destruction, a cacophony of screeches and clangs of metal on metal.
It was perfect.
Oh, how he loved it. The blood called out to him like food beckoned a starving man. He could not ignore it, nor did he want to. It was all so, so...
Addictive. Yes, addictive. That was the word to describe it.
He toyed with his opponent for a while before finally driving the Wo Dao through his heart. The man crumpled to the ground instantly. Wiping his blade on the man's dirty tunic, he straightened up and looked around.
Aside from the ragged breathing of the man he had felled but a moment ago, all was silent.
How disappointing.
The demon inside him was not yet sated. More blood would be shed before the night was done. He turned to leave this encampment of the dead when something caught his attention.
The harsh breathing of pray who knew they were cornered, who knew that death was inevitable. He smiled once more.
There was a little mouse that needed to be exterminated.
He paused for a moment, trying to decipher the location of the sound. His ears, keen and precise from a solitary lifestyle, soon pinpointed the source, and he followed it.
Hungrily, greedily, impatiently.
He made his way through the cold and silent bodies to a wagon that lay on its side. It was a musty old thing, broken and battered. An old, worn-out cloth draped forlornly over one side of the wagon, and he could barely make out a figure underneath it.
His face twisted into a horrible mockery of a smile, and he licked his lips in anticipation.
Perhaps his thirst would be quenched sooner than he thought.
The sound grew louder as he approached, finally escalating into a muffled shriek of fear as he pulled back the cloth and smiled at the person who sat inside. His smiled faded. He blinked.
A child who couldn't have been much older than eight or nine years of age sat in a corner of the wagon. Her back was pressed up against a wall, and she held a knife in front of her chest, as if it would save her from her inevitable demise.
Pitiful.
Yet... There was something about seeing the child that affected him in a way that he could not explain. Perhaps it was the innocent mixture of fear and hope in her eyes, or the way she defiantly held the small kitchen knife in front of her chest.
But that did not matter. His blade still hungered for blood, and this child would sate it.
He stepped into the wagon and towards the child, sword raised in front of him. He reached out and smiled when the Wo Dao made contact with the child.
The child slid to the ground, one hand raised to her cheek in surprise. A small rivulet of blood ran between her fingers and dripped on to the wooden floor below. She looked up at the demon in surprise.
He turned and lifted the cloth, but stopped when he heard the girl whisper something.
"Thank you..."
He acknowleged her thanks with a curt nod and disappeared into the night that reeked of blood.
Xirysa Says: Well, there you have it. Karel is... Hard to write, surprisingly enough. Like, I didn't want him to seem totally crazy (because he probably is somewhat sane) and bloodthirsty (I mean, he's human too, right?). But still... It was really hard to do. But... Wouldn't Karel sparing someone be like... Charity for him? That's my thought, at least. Anyway, feedback and critique... Really, it would mean a lot.