Bloodthirst
n. eagerness for or marked by the shedding of blood, violence, or killing.
They were animals first.
It was a hard concept to wrap one's head around, but so many in Kamui's army easily forgot that a youko or a garou's human form was not their default one. No, their true selves appeared in the image of a beast's, where their teeth cut through flesh like better, their eyes glowed as red as the pools of spilled blood beneath them, and their voices warped like static in the air. They were born like that, they lived like that, and they usually died like that.
The human form was nothing more than a disguise. Both the mystical foxes and magical wolves learned to adopt a humanistic side to them, in order to blend in with the true humans, and trick them into thinking they were friendly or even merciful.
The truth was much more bloodier than that.
Both youkos and garous alike despised humans, and they viewed them with equal parts fear and hatred, so long as their discrimination and violence continued to threaten their safety, year after year. Hunters and poachers worldwide wanted nothing more than a fox's fur to line their coats, or to have a wolf's head mounted above their fireplace. Even if some humans were more sympathetic than others, they all shared the dangerous ideal that they were somehow above the rest of the life that existed on the planet, and so they were regarded with the same hostility as the war-mongering tyrants of their kind.
The fact that either of those species of creatures ended up in Kamui's army was a miracle in and of itself. The youkos were mythical beings, long since revered in legend and rarity. Those that were aware of their existence knew the old story about how the foxes were messengers of the Gods, and acted as a bridge between humanity and divinity.
The only thing more divine than a youko was the price of their fur at the marketplace. A single ounce could compensate for an entire week's worth of work, and while less people knew of their existence, those that did became increasingly violent, so as to haul a fortune for some dead-fox pelts.
The garou didn't have it any easier, either. They were once peaceful beings, in actuality, never going out of their way to deliberately harm humans before. But horror stories and tall tales were woven and those retellings made the wolves out to be monsters—evil beasts that slaughtered herds and stole away children in the night. Such discriminatory lies were what caused the intense fear of the garou in the first place. As a result, they harbored such hate and anger towards the humans, to the point where many who ventured into their rocky mountains never made it back out alive.
Unspoken slaughter of garous were common. Many of them were killed out of spite, but all of their aggressors were forgiven, so long as the humans claimed that their lives were in danger, initially—or that the wolves were the ones who attacked them first.
The vicious cycle of murder, hatred, and vengeance between humanity and beastkind seemed unending, even though humans were largely to blame. Many thought it was impossible to enlist the help of garous or youkos during the war, but the fact that Nishiki and Flannel were both loyal soldiers in the neutral army showed that the times had changed. Alongside the shifting relations between Nohr and Hoshido, there seemed to be a new peace achieved between humans and beasts.
At least, that was what Kamui thought.
.
.
.
Nishiki's visage was kind and proper, and the fact that everything from his hair to his skin was so well-taken care of would mislead one into thinking that someone as self-centered and narcissistic as Nishiki was would be incapable of killing, fighting, or anything else that would blemish such a perfect image.
They were so wrong. Youkos were known as bewitching foxes for a reason, and it was because they never had to aggravate someone to the edge of their anger in order to bring out their weaknesses. Instead, they lured them in, befriended them, and tricked them—all so they could go in for a swift yet brutal murder.
Nishiki would be lying if he said that he never killed humans before, but his pledge of benevolence to most humans was true. Especially in Amuzia, where people acted invitingly towards his kind, he managed to live peacefully among them at times. Whenever one of them did something exceptionally favorable towards him, they received repayment from him, too.
Even if it was in that "special way" that only foxes could do.
.
.
.
Needless to say, Flannel was more rugged than his Hoshidan counterpart. His face showed the least of it, with a small "x"-shaped scar on his left cheek, and the rest of his body littered with a variety of scars and bruises, as well. It was only expected of him, though, considering his position as the leader of the pack.
He was a killer and an animal by every definition of the word. Garous, themselves, were known to be extremely vicious at times, and while Flannel's cheery smile and stubborn personality hid that well, nothing could truly mask the desire that festered within.
It was the desire to rip humans to shreds. To unravel them piece by piece, until nothing remained except for a crimson spatter of insignificance. It was a strong urge felt by all wolf-kind: the ungodly desire to splice flesh like bugs between fingers, the hellish wish to taste fear and pity that will inevitably be the last expression to be seen on their sordid faces—all of those and more originated from an infuriating source deep inside.
For those reasons, garous were hunted, even though their human appearances should have meant something to the humans hunting them. And while Flannel assured everyone that he trusted the humans in Kamui's army, there was something about his hidden nature that couldn't be deterred from, no matter the authenticity of such well-intended claims.
And Flannel could befriend every human in Nohr and Hoshido alike, but nothing sated his bloodlust better than a pair of lifeless human eyes staring up at his lone figure.
.
.
.
They were animals first.
This showed in a lot of things. Whenever the army had to make camp, for example. Although Lilith was a strong force that could render reality and space to Kamui's will, there were limitations on how long this power went on for, as well as how far this power would extend. And during their journey to the Bottomless Canyon—for all those days and nights in between battles in their campaign, for all those moments where they united Hoshidan soldiers, and Nohrian soldiers, and neutral soldiers, and soldiers in between and outside—the rest of them witnessed first hand how these animalistic traits came to light.
It wasn't just because of Flannel howling at the moon, or disappearing in the thickets beyond the mountainside.
It wasn't just because of Nishiki basking in the sun, or slinking into the riverbeds within the deep forests.
It was because of their ability to be utterly soaked in blood, organs, and entrails, and still keep smiles on their faces. While everyone had seen and caused so much death and destruction, there was something about the beasts' acceptance and glee towards the same aspects that had them unnerved. Whenever Flannel brought back freshly killed animals between his sullied paws or teeth, the other soldiers blanched in horror, while he smiled happily. Whenever Nishiki lead spies and scouts astray, only to make them mysteriously "disappear" within the same motion, everyone felt sick to their stomachs.
They were too lustful in comparison to everyone else. And it wasn't lust for the flesh of a loving partner at night, but lust for blood and violence and everything that could come out of a torn rib cage. Lust for the ruby red, pitch black, and blooming violet colors that became a sight of normalcy for them. In the worst way possible, Nishiki and Flannel were quite lustful.
They longed for the loss of life between their fangs and claws.
They wanted nothing more than vengeance towards all the family and friends they lost in their lives—all the pack members and village-goers that never deserved the bloody ends they got. They wanted all of that and more, and so long as they directed their power and anger towards the enemy, they were tolerated among the army. The Hoshidan and Nohrian royals were even inviting towards them, because they knew firsthand what it was like to live in such a bleak environment: one full of hardships and strife.
So with all that considered, was it so wrong for them to want something else, for a change? Was it wrong for them to alter their sights, and chase after something that wasn't completely reddened by blood or maddened by lust?
Was it so wrong for them to want to be forgiven?
.
.
.
It was another night on the run. The army was as large as ever, with the addition of the last Hoshidan and Nohrian royals—Ryouma, Marx, Leon, and Hinoka—joining them before convening at the Bottomless Canyon. But before that, Flannel and Nishiki had been on Kamui's team for weeks, now, and time and time again they proved their loyalty to the royal's cause.
So why were they being looked upon with such sad eyes, right now? Why were they being stared at as if they were monsters, despite a literal dragonling being present before them?
Why?
"Nishiki, Flannel...what did you do?"
"You told us to get rid of the spies," Flannel reminded them.
"Yes, but—"
"We got rid of 'em!"
"And I guess you were taking me literally, weren't you?" Kamui tried to sound exasperated, but there was a harsh tone of disapproval at what they witnessed.
The problem wasn't that the two of them disobeyed the command. The problem was that they obeyed it too well. They were charged with getting rid of some spies, plural. But all Kamui could see was the one spy, a single tattered body among a massacre of blood and torn clothes. There used to be more, Gods and Dragons above! There used to be more. The absence of additional corpses was suspicious enough, and the only reason as to why there weren't any other cadavers left was because Nishiki and Flannel ate the rest.
Kamui glanced over at them again, dark eyes scrutinizing for signs of feasting. The bloodied muzzles and stained claws didn't do well to deflect blame from the "eating the spies" scenario, neither did the bits of flesh and the smell of death that hung over the place like a hollow plague. There was a certain sort of fear to be had in this act, and it was different than the fear of families being divided, or of the Vallite forces destroying the rest of the waking world as they knew it.
This was a fear of a primal kind, similar to the fear that Kamui had for the Dragons that governed their world but also damned it, yet not quite as strong. And as the instigator of this neutral third-party mentality, many of the decisions were left up to them.
They doubted that any of their siblings or allies would want to be in charge of whatever this was, and the sentiment held strongly as they tried not to think about the fact that their bare feet now began to soak in the still-fresh blood.
"That face you're making doesn't look so good," Nishiki muttered. "I mean, I owe you, so if there's another favor I can do for you, I'll do it, but—"
"But what?" Kamui interrupted. "What more could you possibly want?"
"I don't like where this conversation is going," Flannel suddenly said. "Isn't this what you wanted? These guys are from Nohr or Hoshido, right? And they've got the wrong idea about this whole army you're leading, or whatever. So, simply enough, we've killed them."
"Yes, but did you have to be so...cruel?"
"You asked us to kill them," Nishiki reiterated, sounding a bit incredulous. "Is there a nice way to kill someone?"
Not eating them would be a good start, they thought but didn't say out loud. "I'm not sure, but I just felt this was too cruel! Did you have to cause this much blood? Do people even bleed out this much, to begin with? I—"
"Weren't you the one who talked about how cruel King Garon was?" Flannel piped up. "Didn't you talk all the time about how awful it was that your siblings kept fighting and the two nations kept battling each other all the time?"
They were taken aback, eyes blown wide with surprise at how easily Flannel was able to take the reins of the conversation like that. Aqua and the others always mentioned how assertive he was, but they didn't realize it was to this extent.
"I—"
"And didn't your siblings also raze a village full of rebels before you showed up the other day? I don't see them getting a lecture."
"That's different—"
"Why is it different? 'Cause we're beasts and they're not?"
"Flannel!" Kamui gasped, shocked at the bluntness of his words. "That's not it, and you know it!"
"Then what is it?" Nishiki asked, almost saddened at this point. His ears drooped forward as he seemed puzzled. "I'm also confused by this. I thought you would be happy that we got rid of all the bad guys!"
"I am happy, I'm just—"
"Disgusted."
There was a silence following Flannel's words. Not even Nishiki said anything, although he found himself to be rather passive in this situation as a whole. No, Flannel spoke so sordidly—so truthfully—that no one else dared to speak. He stepped forward, large figure trembling and growling all the while, until he morphed back into his humanoid form.
Even then, he towered over Kamui easily, and so was able to stare them down with crimson eyes full of anger and fury.
Oh, they were in for it now.
"You're disgusted. You think we're gross and weird, huh? You think we're evil. You," he hissed out the word, and stepped so close to Kamui that they could feel the thunderous heartbeat pulsating between the two of them: they could tell that his fangs were smaller, but still very sharp, and the blood dripping on his fingers and staining his shirt was as fresh and intense as it had been before.
"You think we're monsters."
"No! No, I don't think that at all! How could I think that about you two, you—"
"Then why do you look so scared?"
Kamui became silent again. At first, the quiet formed because of their thoughtfulness—they racked their brains for all sorts of witty replies, or at least the right words to say in order to quell the fire before it exploded. But then the silence grew and grew and grew and grew and grew to the point where they realized that it was fear enveloping them, once again. Even though two trusted allies stood before them, the urge to pull out the dragonstone and shift into a stronger form stayed present in their body. The desire to leave this place, and head somewhere safer and less bloodier increased greatly.
They were very, very, very afraid.
And they hated that they couldn't hide it on their face.
"Kamui, you're scared of us?" Nishiki asked. He, too, transformed back into his human form. Even with the blood covering his body, he retained an image of beauty and regality, but Kamui could hardly focus on that now. "But we're friends, right? What's so scary about that?"
"Nishiki...Flannel…"
"You were raised in Nohr, so I bet you know all the stories about garous and how they eat people in the middle of the night, yeah? Or the tale about youkos and how they lead travelers astray, and shove 'em over the edges of cliffs to their deaths? You know all about us monsters, don't you?" There was an air of mockery in Flannel's voice, but it was lost underneath all the hurt and betrayal he felt. These were stories told time and time again, but none of those tales could compare to the beasts' versions of human horror stories: "The Net That Catches at Midnight" or "The Hunter's Call of Death."
Nothing could compare to the loss that bled out from them, the same way that the crimson blood might have leaked out from their enemies. While Kamui was just as twisted, secluded, and estranged as the two of them were, they were never ostracized or exiled from humanity as a whole. They were raised with love and care, regarded kindly by all that knew them, even if that was a small group of people in itself.
They had no idea the turmoil that came with being a beast in a human-run world. Their own non-human status was a recent discovery, and every moment that lead prior to that was spent in humane normalcy (and abuse, but that's another topic for another day). They clung to their own ideals of humanity so tightly that the very politics and peace of the land shifted with their beliefs. They held on so desperately to the idea of normalcy that the oddities in the world started to cease, and disappeared beneath the march of their army's feet.
They were so pathetic in that singular moment, it took every ounce of sheer strength and willpower on Flannel's end to not laugh.
Instead, he grabbed the scruff of Kamui's collar, and dragged their face up to his own in a show of intimidation—in a contest of wills. His breath felt acrid and hot on Kamui's skin, and they repeated the same mantra in their head, over and over again.
Let me go let me go let me go let me go let me go
"Think and say whatever you want, Kamui. But know that I'm nothing like those monsters in the storybooks." He leaned in even closer to them—so close that they could see the indignation steeping itself in his jaws, in his eyes, in his skin so every part of him burned endlessly with indignation and rage. He got so close that their heartbeats melted into one another, and Kamui couldn't tell one erratic rhythm from the next.
He got so close, Kamui wanted to scream.
They didn't.
"I'm worse."
And he shoved Kamui far away from him, rejecting them as strongly as his body could show it, but not to the point where Kamui felt any pain. In fact, even when Flannel's hands had clutched at their body, there was no blood drawn—not even in the heat of the moment, where any other person could have easily cut the royal down to size. There was only a lasting feeling of warmth and embarrassment that flooded away with the cool night air, and the harrowing realization that Flannel was right. He was right, and Kamui was foolish for staying silent, when they should have spoken up against the accusations thrown, when they should have done anything to assure him and Nishiki that they weren't any better or worse for being the way they were, and all they had to do was reach out and grab him, grab Flannel's hand—grab it so tightly that he couldn't slip away—and stop him from running away and so they can sort everything out, but...
...It didn't happen like that. Flannel instantly turned back into his wolf form, where his height nearly doubled Kamui's, his mouth was full of jagged yet uneven fangs, and his eyes shone like jewels embedded in a black box. He reverted back to having misshapen fur and claws stained red and yellow from the terrible acts of murder that transpired tonight. It was the form where Flannel's ruggedly handsome features disappeared into the shadowy contours of this beast, where the only way to recognize him from the other garous was to hear the sound of his warped voice, and witness the gleam of irritation in his deeply set eyes.
Yet at this moment in time, Flannel was nearly silent as he sprinted off, appearing as nothing more than a black-and-white blur of monstrosity weaving through the evergreen trees. In mere moments in time, he faded faster than flames in the raging waters, and he was gone no sooner than he had left.
Nishiki, all the while, looked equal parts sympathetic and disappointed, and he transformed back into his true form, as well. Unlike Flannel, however, he was all shimmering streaks of amber and gold, with a triad of sacred flames floating around him like angels hovering nearby their god. He stared at Kamui wistfully, before turning his back on them, and disappearing through the thicket, as well—probably to chase after the frenzied tracks of Flannel.
When they were both gone, Kamui fell to their knees, utterly defeated by the exchange just now. Everything went way differently than they expected it to, and it disheartened them like nothing else. They thought they could curb some of that bloodthirst that existed within them—they thought they could decide what tragedies came from their allies and what moments could be saved. They had so much in mind, but it all was for naught as the tide turned against them, for once, and they could do nothing but watch the beasts slip out from view like sand between their fingers.
The blood on the ground stained their knees, too, and as their hands became awash with crimson fluids, they thought it was just as well.
The bloodthirst would never end, and they were foolish for thinking otherwise.