Time. It was never something that one could take lightly. Everything was already set to occur without anything able to hinder it. The sun would rise, then set. People would age and eventually die. It was common for human kind to become obsessed with the concept of time and somehow try to slow or even stop it. The idea of immortality slowly contaminated the minds of humans, making them perfect targets for those who lurk in the shadows. They would do anything if they were told that they would be given eternal life. It took them ages to figure out that only a certain level of demon could grant eternal life, and only at a great cost. Eternal servitude to the demon that granted the immortality, after learning that fact, most humans begged for death.
Which one did not so swiftly grant.
Deep laughter reverberated against the metal walls, easily drowning out the distressed screams that emanated from the young man on the ground writhing in a pool of his own blood.
"Please! Spare my lif-" the plea was cut off by a sickening crack and a cry of agony, his now broken arm falling limply to his side, blood beginning to flow from the newly created wounds.
"You do not wish for death any longer?" A deeper voice asked mockingly, "I'm afraid that you're fuckin' out of luck."
A sinister smirk upturned his pale lips as he watched the young man attempt to crawl away, only to be hindered as he stepped in front of him and onto his hand, grinding his fingers into the ground with the heel of his boot. With one swift movement, he bent down, his long silver locks falling over his shoulders just enough to stain the tips crimson with his 'clients' blood, and took a hold of the other's shirt and held him up so that startling silver could look into amber orbs clouded with pain and fear.
"It's been one hundred years, and you decide that death would be better then spending the rest of eternity with me," he said sounding offended, "and here I thought that you might be different, well I suppose that I was pretty fuckin' wrong. You even fuckin' started begging for your life again once we began. How very…human of you."
The young man's eyes widened in terror at the words, he knew at the point that he was going to die. Especially if the silver haired man had anything to do with it, "D-don't kill me! Please!"
"It's much too late to beg, darling." He said mockingly, his silvery locks shining hauntingly in the moonlight that leaked into the warehouse. After a moment of silence, there was a soft gasp of fear, followed by frantic screams.
"Kyndeyrn…! Please! Let me live!"
"Silence!" Kyndeyrn ordered before holding the ever-present dagger to the young man's throat. "How dare you call me by my fuckin' name! You are no longer permitted. In fact, I should silence your begging right now."
Swiftly following those words was a sickening thud as Kyndeyrn forced the young man onto the ground and held him down with his knee. "Now open wide," he ordered as he proceeded to force the other's mouth open. The young man, however, had different plans as be bit down on the silver haired man's fingers, trying to draw blood. "What the fuck do you think your doing?" He asked while succeeding in grasping the other's tongue between his unharmed fingers.
Shaking his head frantically, the young man seemed to try begging with his eyes, much like he used to years ago.
"That wont work, Dustin, not this time." With those few words, the sickening sound of metal grating though flesh filled the small warehouse, followed by gurgling cries of pain. Deep laughter soon reverberated against the walls once again as blood began to splatter his face, staining his hair and odd patterns on the front of his pure white jacket. It was odd that one such as him would wear only white, though he made a point of doing so.
Kyndeyrn's expression contorted to one of amusement as he watched the other writhe once again, this time completely unable to speak. It was common knowledge that once someone's tongue is cut off, they are quick to death if it is not treated right away.
As Dustin's movements began to slow and death began to creep at his heels, Kyndeyrn's amused expression faded into something akin to sadness.
"You know…I was actually beginning to love you…" He murmured softly, his eyes closing before he shook his head "but I grow tired of this. Good bye, Dustin." With that said, he jammed the dagger into the young man's throat, slicing the flesh easily, being bathed in the crimson life liquid.
After the young man had stilled completely, Kyndeyrn stood and stared at the body.
"If you knew that this is what would become of you, would you still have asked for immortality?"
With a soft sigh, Kyndeyrn shook his head once again "Look at this," he said, holding his arm out slightly, displaying the bloody dagger to the unseeing amber eyes of the one that was Dustin, "doesn't your blood just make the blade shine beautifully?" He asked, almost as if he were expecting an answer from the corpse of his once beloved. Giving a soft, almost cheerful seeming laugh, the sliver haired man kneeled once again, but only to wipe the blood from the blade onto the other's dark clothing. "Don't want it to fuckin' stain the blade," he explained to himself.
Before long, there was a sound just outside the warehouse, something akin to rustling and moving though bushes, despite the fact there were no foliage present. Kyndeyrn stood slowly; already aware of what caused that sound.
"Isn't he beautiful, Alasdir? The way his face pales in comparison to that which he had in life?"
The sound on metal scraping on metal filled the small room before a soft gasp sounded. Though it didn't cause Kyndeyrn to turn his gaze away from the crimson stained Dustin, he did tilt his head lightly to the side as to await the other's thoughts on the situation.
"So you really killed him?" Came the soft reply before the sound of footsteps echoed against the walls. "I suppose that I'm not surprised. He had been acting a bit off lately anyway."
Finally, Kyndeyrn's silvery gaze shifted to rest on the one now standing beside him. Not long after that, an absent smile formed on the longhaired man's bloodstained lips, almost as if he did things like this every day, when in fact it was only every hundred years or so.
Odd dark white-less eyes seemed to laugh as the silver haired man turned on his heel and placed his dagger back in it's sheath. Where Kyndeyrn looked like the light, even angelic, Alasdir looked as if he had just crawled from hell, though he still managed to keep a human form. Running black-gloved hands though his shorter ebony locks, he smiled slightly.
"Shall we get going, Kyn?" He asked using the nickname he had become attached to over the years of their friendship.
"Sure, lets get the fuck outta here."
Alasdir laughed softly before he nodded and followed the other out, not at all worried about the body left behind. The lesser demons would get it.