Delirious's Story

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All those denominators that could measure the flow of time meant nothing to the Fallen Tyrfing who continued on his way. The next town was still far in his projections and would probably be camping into the nearby forests once more. Well, Xenith did not mind as he favored the soothing lullabies of the outside world. Moreover, when the darkness would envelope all the travesties of such a mundane life. It was an act he welcomes in his own enthusiastic manner. In addition, he had satiated his thirst earlier so his sleep would be more pleasant than before. All in all, this should be a peaceful evening for him.


Yet, a large surge of wind passed his way. It was not dangerous or cumbersome to face. Regardless, Xenith stopped in his tracks and let strong breeze ruffled his attire and hair. Along with such passing, it brought certain petals that reminded the Tyrfing of blood. The crimson shade was prominent under such a dark illumination and it was such a beautiful sight to his eyes that are most accustomed to the darkness of the night. Reaching out his hand, he had managed to catch a lone petal. It was breathtakingly red that only reminded him of a subtle stirring of thirst from within. It was even more ignited when the scent of fresh blood tainted the aroma of the flowers.

Senses were immediately attuned to his surroundings. Eyes of silver looked at the focal direction where such an enticing scent had come from. Xenith could feel the tug of the beast inside him. He inwardly cursed it for the seemingly endless hunger that it has for the liquid of life. It was during these times he often wondered why he was born in such a way. He in all situations was simply an abomination. A being that should never exist. In any case, his feet began moving towards the area where the faint smell of blood teasingly lingered.

Upon arrival, Xenith witnessed a rather disgusting scene. Despite the sad excuse of a garment, the old man can still be considered naked. The man should be trialed for the crimes of obscenity and fashion. Yet, his attention shifted soon enough to another figure whose blood was like sweet nectar to him. The source was a cut on the left arm of what he could identify as a boy. However, there was a certain feeling that this was not simply a human. In any case, the event transpiring was none of his concern. It would only be right for him to ignore and be on his way. However...

"Human, this is my meal. Scatter."

The old man who was grinning from ear to ear to his seemingly unsung victory now wore a horrified expression on his face. Xenith was now before him with his back facing the degenerate excuse for a human. The Tyrfing used his body as some kind of a support to the boy who was losing the battle for his consciousness. He looked at boy's condition and took in a subtle aroma of poison. It was all he needed to understand what has caused such a weak stupor against a fumbling human. Looking over his shoulder, those silver eyes seemed to glow in an ethereal manner. It was hypnotizing yet at the same time frightening.

Knowing that the large man before him was not someone of his kind, the old man carefully regarded his situation. Yet, the lure of greed was much strong than the call of logic.

"That Kitsune is mine! Hands off you bastard!"

Rushing towards Xenith, the Tyrfing could only inwardly sigh about the ridiculous decision the human had made. The blade which was coated with poison irritated him to a certain degree and before the point of contact could be made to his form, he thrust his free arm forward to the old man. It pierced the human's throat and blood flowed much like water rushing out from a broken floodgate. Such a gesture was not that hard provided by his long limb and in consideration to the rather smaller human. Retrieving his hand, he licked his bloody hand and even his claws that made the transition of piercing effective. As for the man, he tumbled in agony as he panicky covered the injury done to his throat. Yet, there was no resolution for that and soon he dropped to the ground. The fate to be the food to worms awaited him.

When the blood staining his hand was taken care of, Xenith turned his attention to the boy who was still leaning on him. He could chose to abandon him right here, a Kitsune like him could try to test the fates once more. The stories surrounding such an existence had been passed to the Tyrfing for quite a long time. Yet again...

"Troublesome."

It was the last word that left Xenith's lips as he carried the Kitsune over his shoulder much like a sack of potatoes. But before leaving the area, he went towards the now lifeless corpse of the human. Examining for any pockets, he found one and inside was a small vial for the antidote. It was common logic for those who used poisons to bring the drug that would counteract with the toxin in case of an event, where they could be harmed by their own trickery. After doing so, he took his leave with the Kitsune in tow.

The scent of blood still lingered and teased his senses. Xenith inwardly seethed at this. He would need to do something about the Kitsune's wound and to create a good distance from the field where the pungent odor of the human's blood now filling it. When that was done, he would need to find a good place to serve as a camp site. Regardless, this night was not as peaceful as he hoped it would be. As he walked away, the faint light of the moon occasionally covered by the dark clouds shone upon the two of them. As if knowing, a secret destiny the two would soon share.

A plethora of ideas which involves of disposal and abandonment entertained the Tyrfing's trail of thoughts. Yet, there was a vague fragment within the depths of his existence that dissuaded such thinking into mere humorous whispers. If truth be said, he would have wanted to pluck the said shard and grind it to dust. As such, he would be able to throw the sack of trouble on his shoulder to some nearby water way where the fishes would have better use of his luggage as a means of nutrition. Still, he used such meaningless complaints as melody which could only be heard by him. Xenith continued with his stride which had created great distance. It was not much of surprise as he has long legs to make it happen. Although, the lingering action he had done on a whim will be a bloody epitaph for any one who would casually prowl to the scene.

Ironically, the idea soothed the Fallen Tyrfing akin to a mother's lullaby. Soon enough, Xenith had found a reasonable place to set up a makeshift camp for the evening. It was a small alcove shaped by the natural shifting of both earth and wind. The depression on the side of the mountain would be a good shelter against unlikely predators and dreary weather. Upon entering, he did not waste time placing down the baggage who had dared to fall asleep on the mossy and rocky flooring. He did not care if it made the Kitsune uncomfortable or such. After all, he had already carried the dead weight, dirtied his claws with the unsavory blood of a delusional human, and tormented by the sweet scent of this fox spirit's life liquid. This was quite the inconvenience to him in more ways than one.

What is done had been done. All the Tyrfing could do was to ensure that the night would pass without anymore interruptions. With that, he left the slumbering Kitsune for a bit of time to collect some dried branches which would serve as light and warmth. The breeze was rather chilly than what was normally expected. For Xenith, it was not really important. However, his unlikely roommate required such a necessity especially in such a poisoned state. Doing such mundane chores, he was soon done and a small hearth was created with little effort really. Although, he convinced himself it was done for his own needs and not for anyone else.

Looking at the flying embers, it reflected beautifully in those silver moonlit eyes of his. Xenith mediated on the idea what prompted him to interfere in the matters of others. Usually, he would have no hesitations of simply moving on and letting such events to transpire without a hindrance. As long as it does not concern him personally, he sees no need to bother. Perhaps, it was the thirst that manipulated him to do certain gestures that he would never do when comes to push and shove. Yet, there was the possibility of a completely different matter that spurred him. Perchance, it was due to that one word.

“... Broken.”


This existence had something faintly familiar to him. It was wonted for he was also the very essence of that word. For all one knows, it was not just the snare of the Kitsune's claret. With one swift stride, Xenith loomed over the still slumbering fox. Those resplendent white eyes of his reflected the mere representation of a boy. It was about time for him to cure the fox from his toxic state. First, he looked at the alluring source of such a delicious smell. The wound inflicted by a haphazard human on the Kitsune's arm. He tore a portion of his baggage clothes and used it as a bandage. When done, he licked the ends of his claws which was marred a little bit with blood traces.

Then, Xenith took out the antidote he had procured from the man's corpse, it was in liquid form. This only meant it should be taken via drinking or injecting directly to the veins. Judging by the fox's situation, the boy was still sleeping and was wandering in his personal nightmare. There was only one viable option and he truly did not mind. Drinking the antidote, the Tyrfing instantly disliked its horrid taste. Fortunately, it was not meant for him and there was no need for him to swallow it. Lowering himself to the ground on one knee, he cradled the Kitsune without any finesse and placed his lips over the boy's. When Xenith was certain that none of the drug remained, he removed his lips from the Kitsune and went to a far corner of the alcove. A respectable distance was between him and the fox spirit. It was better that way as he had done what is to be expected from him. Now, he would take his sleep which eluded him for the past days. As for the kiss, it was nothing more as such a gesture never hold any meaning for him to begin with. Closing his eyes, a voice from a distant memory echoed through his fading consciousness.

"For you a kiss is you're way of feeding... but to me Xen... It's..."

An abyss that never ends surrounded his form as if a blanket to remind him of a lost warmth. The forbidden allure of a fragile rose filled him with temptation. A hypnotizing flurry of blood-stained petals burned him to such a sin. There a woman imprisoned in his arms laid. Holding to such delicate existence, it seemed this person was his retribution. Ash-bronze locks played by the empty winds reminded him of a wilting blossom. Supple skin so soft to his touch was losing its glow of life like the falling sands of time. Eyes that were closed will never open again to gaze at him with spite. This woman in his arms was a memory that had been swallowed by the green vines of torture that coiled around him. A woman now lost in the realm of the dead. It then dawned on him, the lingering feelings of attachment were encasing him in such a colorless world. Furthermore, the name of this woman was a mystery. Perhaps, the name was forgotten in the midst of his despair. Yet, she knew him once upon a time.

"Xen, will you love me if I die?"

There was an answer. He was certain as his lips moved. However, the sound never materialized. His mind never recorded such a possibility. It was an illusion drowned in the sea of never-ending doubt. Why can he not remember? Or perhaps, he had inwardly wished it to be so? Then, the poison of his curse had infested him entirely. No light of salvation could pierced through the heart of a sinner. Yet, he knew he had desired it to be in such a manner. There was no turning back from the sorrows and regrets of tomorrow. Truthfully, he was a slave to such a thought. A punishment that he could only understand and see. There was no need to restore what was broken by a torrent of deadly passion. For there are objects in this world, no amount of fortitude and will could retrieve what he once wished to hold dear. Or, his want had become a vicious disease which would lead to a demise not foretold by fate. If that was the case, he will ravage his desires into these desolate world. So, he would regain the semblance of his tainted and broken self.

“Creature... You shall pay for saving me...”

As if waiting for the hammer to strike the anvil, the world immersed in his darkness crumbled into fragments of glasses. All that remained was the creeping emptiness of his twisted soul. His consciousness returned to him from an unlocked chest. Twin silver moons revealed itself as its curtains were raised. A gaze much like of a lifeless puppet filtered through yet only for a fleeting second. It was soon replaced with amusement. The source was yet to be ascertain. Could it had been from the diluted dreams? Or the magic word that ripped him apart from the inner delusions? There was a chance that it could had been both. Yet, it was a secret on he knows well.

"What payment would that be Kitsune."

Words ended in an indifferent manner. It was not equipped with the tone of inquiry. There was no hint of humor as well. His eyes did not gaze at the now awake Fox. The gleaming crimson took his attention with its swaying colors. Apparently, it was more interesting then a fallen Kitsune who clings to a pride that is close to nonexistence. Thinking about it, he was quite the same in that regard. If he had the ability to laugh, he would have in such an ironic situation. However, he was incapable of such a simple gesture described by others. The only thing he could do was the slight upturned from the right corner of his mouth. Even then, it disappeared much like a mirage in a hot desert.

"Another kiss. If you want."

Once more, it held not even an ounce of emotions that could betray him. One of his clawed finger lightly tapped on his lips. As if to remind the Kitsune, he resembled those infamous fairy takes about sleeping princess awaken with True Love's Kiss. On the contrary, he was much certain that for the Fox who seemed to share such broken existence like him. The kiss was a sentencing for eternal damnation. If that was the case, he would not mind doing it again. It was not his concern anymore if the Fox was well or feel uncomfortable. His responsibility ended when the Kitsune woke and seeing that his excess baggage was rather healthy enough to make such daring statements. The antidote did its job quite remarkably.

"This time let it be your death."

At this time, his eyes of white-silver which seemed to reflect that fluttering embers finally gazed at the Kitsune who took the form of a pathetic-looking boy. It was the only movement that he had done. His head still placed firmly against the rock wall of the alcove. His arms placed lazily upon on one of his raised knee. The only source of the illumination inside the makeshift camp made him glow in an ethereal design. His black clothes and coal black hair emphasized his deathly pale skin and those decadent silver eyes. He was much like the night embroiled only to reveal the slight ray of light. Even then, it is not certain whether it would be warm or devastating to feel.

"I would not mind for as I see it. You are mine already. All of you belong to me, Kitsune."

Those eyes of silver moons did not reveal the inner workings of the Tyrfing as he looked at the Kitsune. His stare was as empty as those who have ceased to exist without the knowledge of their fate. He remained unyielding in his steed and silent through a great ordeal of time. Inside the makeshift camp, the only melody that could be heard was the flickering dance of the flames which devoured the wood that served as its food. Even breathing was much like a distant memory than of reality and despite the presence of two individuals who were still part of the living, they appeared to be unreal in every meaning of the word. They were like a painting etched in the pendulum of nothingness that even the colors used to emulate their life were unattainable in the realm of truth.

"Fantastic. It may bully my pride, but I will still keep whatever I have left of it.”

If it was possible for him to smile in pure amusement, he would have done so. However, it was an ability that had been taken from him since long ago. In any case, Xenith found this pathetic fox spirit interesting at best. The boy's words flamboyant yet meaningless in the vast expanse of understanding. He would praise the Kitsune for his bravery for labeling him as a pervert or even denoting that he would not succumbed to the fallen Tyrfing's will. Perhaps, it was not the mere scent of his blood that attracted him. However, this was much better than saving a being so futilely useless in every sense of the word. He regarded the fox's words with either arrogance or apathy. Yet, it played in his mind like a riddle of worthless conjectures.


"Good."

Thus, the painting of two ephemeral creatures had finally given the breathe of life with the power of one word. A silent breeze entered the alcove as the fire quivered at its touch. His hair of coal black swayed like feathered leaves in an unsung hymn. It pronounced the allure of his eyes even more like a never-ending void that threatened to devour all that would be placed in its gaze. His lips elegantly moved to continue a string of words that seemingly explained or even put more mystique in relation to the actions of the Tyrfing.

"Then pledge your life to me, I did say you are my food."

Standing from his position, Xenith looked at the horizon which could be seen from the opening of the alcove. The dark skies revealed itself to the embrace of the light. Another sunrise was evident and this was the endless cycle of the world. How mundane and repetitive yet, he finds it a charming sight regardless. Perhaps, those who are broken find pleasures in things that are complete. It is also why he desires to break such objects or being apart to resemble himself. With that lingering thought, the Tyrfing was now before the Kitsune. His steps were calculated and seemingly invisible as he bridged the gap between them with his aforementioned kiss.

A piercing sensation radiated on the Kitsune's neck as Xenith placed his fangs on such fragile skin. He did not even soften his kiss with a few licks or pleasurable nips to introduce a euphoria he never intend to understand. Breaking the flesh on the neck, blood flowed from the hole it created. He did not linger long enough as there was no need to satiate his hunger or to weakened the fox to his knees. He only did it to emphasize the meaning of their possible relationship of Predator and Prey. Making sure that no blood was wasted, he licked the pierced skin in a rather sensual manner which hold no meaning for him. Perhaps, it is why people often mistake his actions that for him was the most natural thing to do. When done, he placed a good distance between him and the fox. His face still held no form of feeling or even satisfaction.

"It seems you have recovered well enough. Your blood held the spice present in your words."

The flames that had been a source of warmth and illumination suddenly fizzled out of existence. This phenomenon was not done by the natural order of things. A proof of a magical hand was the scent of the elusive night which delicately filled the alcove. He then proceeded to leave the place not caring whether the Kitsune would follow or not. For him, there was no need to linger in a place that held no purpose for him from the very beginning. However before fully stepping into the light, Xenith looked over his shoulder to gaze at the tormented yet prideful fox who was still attached to a past that had been shattered into a tiny fragments of glasses in the guise of a reachable hope. It was ironic as hope was the only factor that makes despair plausible.

"Your choice Kitsune. I have no time for sentimentality that you only choose to view in dreams."

After saying that, Xenith finally exited the alcove allowing the rays of the sun which disrupted the evening sky to day to bask on his form. Skin of white glowed in a certain way as if the river that sparkled under the summer season. He held an ethereal glow that provided an unspoken knowledge that he was a creature revered by the light and ruled by the night. His frame perfect as if the Gods held no contest against him. It is why there would be no surprise if the fates would submit to all of his whims despite how utterly ridiculous it might be. This was the presence he exuded. In that way, he continued on his way. He did not look back to see if the Kitsune followed or not. At the moment, all he was thinking was the destination in mind and the taste of the blood that continued to linger within his lips.

"Heartrendingly spicy."

Tergiversation had never been an integral machination to the Tyrfing's disposition or even to the evanescent fancies that he seemed to invoke without much of a solicitude towards other existences in this world that the Gods seemed to have abandoned in forlorn. His gait was steady along with unyielding steps that kissed the earth floor as he traversed the road which he took without any symbolic meaning to it. Yet if one had closely observed him from the very beginning of his journey, there was a negligible care in his stride. Could it be possible that he had show such manner due to the creature whom he had granted the title as his food? This said creature in the guise of a prideful yet broken Kitsune who had followed the intangible being veiled with the scent of night had chosen to repay this undefinable savior based on a flawed perception of debt.

No matter what the conclusions for this trifling development, he never looked back or called the attention of his newest stalker. He moved on as if there was a definite purpose to every land fall of his feet. Ignoring the fox spirit's accompaniment, he did not even acknowledge the boy when it was once more time to sleep. Creating his own resting place, he did not bother inviting the Kitsune. Peculiarly at the same time, he did not also dissuade the creature in debt to share a lodging with him. Such events continued on in the span of travel to the next town. It would not be described as a mundane activity between the two creatures who has a bond that had been orchestrated by the humor of the universe. However, this monochromatic tale would gain another color as the town came within sight.

A nauseous feeling of grief filled this hamlet that was supposedly to be a bustling locality in a distant memory of his. The eerie silence invited him to enter and he answered its call without a moment of a doubt. In distance, he could hear hushed murmurs and wails. There was also smoke rising through the air which could only lead to his one credence. A funeral was underway. It tickled his whim to join among the amassed grieving crowd as such he did so. Once there,his presence was noticed yet ignored due to the sorrow of passing. He gazed at the pyres that continually burned the now corpses of who were once beloved to someone. The pain of being left behind will never wane even as time progresses. Its sting will forever remain. As he could see it, there are a total of five persons being incinerated. The cause of death judging by the whispers of the talkative locales was a monstrosity lingering beyond the mountains.

Mortal hunters whom had faced a challenge that they inevitable lost. This was the strength and the ultimate flaw of humans. Their unquenchable belief in hope that will soon lead to certain despair. Xenith was not certain if he was sensing pity creeping within him or disgust as the stench of the burning corpses enveloped the winds. No, it was not like that. He was not feeling anything but the empty acceptance of how futile were those tears and deaths. In the end, it was meaningless and worthless. This was a certain matter that he was well-aware of for he had experienced it. The ultimate defeat which rendered him pathetic. Yes, he was pathetic and a disappointment. Although, he would never admit that to anyone but himself.

Quickly, he lost his interest and decided to move on. However, it was during his aversion from the funeral pyre did he cast finally a glance towards the fox spirit. The reason unknown as nothing of sort could reveal it even the eyes that had been said to be the windows of the soul. No words were spoken and it only lasted for a fraction of a second. For the attention of the Tyrfing had been taken by another puzzling scent in the distance. Dictated by his natural curious nature, he went towards it and time was not an issue as he reached the source quite quickly with his long legs. There he found a far fields of flowers of various kinds. Its heady scent embraced anyone who would come upon them. The oddity, there was also the lingering smell of a rotten flesh. It was hardly detectable yet there was no denying of its presence. Moreover, the thing which attracted him the most was the salty tinge much like the lost scent of his home.

It did not take long for him to notice that a person was there as well. A woman judging from its frame along with long cherry red hair, her back was turned from him as she seemed to be sitting on the ground. Even then, he could sense the faint scent of tears. Her shoulders seemed to tremble but no sounds of mourning could be heard. Still, it was evident that this woman was crying. There is a great chance that someone she cared was now being burned in that funeral fire. This scene reminded him of someone... He stood there much like a statue while looking down at her in silence. A strong yet gentle breeze passed by them. In that field flowers, the only thing that took his interest was the bloom which was wrapped with the scent of rot and salt. A peculiar combination yet it had pierced through his indifferent consciousness and before he knew it, words had already left his lips.