barbarism (dreamnoblade)

chapter six

"How long have we been walking for?"

'We've been wandering for a few days, you should find us a place to sleep.'

Ah that's right, he was tired. The pinkette's feet stumble with every step and his stinging eyes keep fluttering shut. Sometimes he loses feeling in his body, but luckily the Blood God would remind him when he needed to sleep or even eat. He uses his sword to sweep the hanging branches to the side, eyes surveying the forest for shelter. Birds tweet above and crickets croak underneath. It was simultaneously loud and silent, grass sticks to the bottom of his hooves and the pinkette grunts in disgust.

A flicker of a lamp light to his left catches his attention as he turns to see a small brick house. It seems inhabited, most likely by humans.

His bloodied sword trembles in his palm, he feels icky. Dried blood coats his body like another layer of skin, dirt sticks to his hooves like socks. Maybe he would be able to clean himself once he breaks inside, but what if there were people inside?

'You kill them. You can't trust anyone.'

He hesitantly nods to himself and walks to the front door, peering through the window. It seems empty so he gently tugs the door open and shuffles inside. Multiple senses tingle with life as he struggles to pinpoint where they were coming from. A sudden scent of meat and vegetables drifts through the air, he can feel his mouth water at the smell. Someone must be cooking dinner.

He tiptoes through the rooms, following his nose until the last wall he peers around reveals a kitchen with people inside. The bright lights in the room make his eyes squint, human lights were annoying to deal with, they sting his eyes.


The pinkette locates the people talking, two kids, one adult. His vision clears and immediately sends panic bells ringing in his ears. The adult male has two giant wings that curl around his body like a robe, the pinkette feels his breathing heavy. It reminds him of the bad humans at his old home, the ones that stuck the voice in his head. The people who tortured him and prayed to him.

His gaze snaps to the younger children sitting at a bench, were they experiencing the same pain he was put through? They were giggling and talking amongst themselves, looking like they were having a swell time. That means they must be happy. The Blood God teaches him about many emotions and what they were called, some are indescribable but the voice calls them worthless.

"Who's there?" A gruff voice interrupts his thoughts and he ducks behind the wall, had the blonde hybrid seen him? The noises from the kitchen quieten and footsteps begin to head in his direction.

'Threaten them. Killthem! Spill their blood and loot their home!"

The voice compels him to leap out from behind the wall, but instead he turns tail and tries to run for the door. He couldn't kill them, they seem like a happy family. They had what he wanted, but if he couldn't have it then it was better that they did.

Multiple paintings and photos hanging from the walls blur around him as he dashes around the corner. A sudden hand on his shoulder pulls him backward and he feels his back collide with the wall, sword flying in the opposite direction. Panic courses in his veins. His mind far too slow to catch up to the pounding of his heart. He swiftly lets himself crumble to the floor and tries to roll towards the weapon, but the hand grabs his collar and pulls him backward.


"Who are you and why are you in our home?" The voice is stern, but the boy doesn't sense a desire to kill in it. The pinkette peers up at the tall, blonde man towering over him. Two giant wings block out the light and cast long shadows on the ground, he looks big and scary. He doesn't feel safe anymore.

Why is life being so mean to me? I just want a family, I want to feel loved.

He begins to tear up while trying to squirm out of the man's grip and towards the sword. The grip tightens and more fear rushes into his brain.

"Are you homeless?" The man asks softer than last time, but it still fills him with a shivering fear- the kind of feeling when nails scrape down cobblestone, "can you understand what I am saying?"

He hears murmuring from behind them and sees two blurry silhouettes observing what was happening.

He's going to kill me-

'Killhimkillhim! Grab the sword! Let me kill him!'

He struggles more and considers letting the voice take over, but when it does that everything gets fuzzy. He needs to be awake! He needs to survive and fight back-

Tears pour from his eyes, he can't see anymore. Everything is blurring together in a wobbly grey.

The hand on his shoulder pulls him forward and he feels two arms wrap around him. He wasn't sure what this was, why was he being so gentle? It felt warm and safe.

I don't want to kill him...

'Kill him! Kill him killhimkillhim...'

The boy closes his eyes and curls into a ball. Sleep finally arrives at his most vulnerable state.