Stress Relief

And now for something completely different.


She dipped fingers into flesh and didn’t flinch as her mark's burly hand wrapped around her arm. His skin ripped almost easily. Already the small metal blades that adorned Zephyrus’ fingertips pierced the barrier of his vital organs. His eyes, steely with an animalistic fear, would not let go of the blood. It streamed from the little wounds and traced over her own veins before gravity caught it and brought it, in tear drops, to the earth. She was the shadow that, before, swayed among a sea of other shadows. In the sun’s glare he couldn’t tell her apart from the treetops. Now she was corporeal, standing in front of her prey, hand lodged into his chest. The numbness in him began to waver, made way for the more prominent throbbing. And the world stood still. Then, the flexing of fingers and she felt for the bone. Touched the final membrane before her goal. He groaned.


The man released her arm and reared back in a futile attempt to separate himself from the pain. Adrenaline coursed through his blood, and into her senses.

Zephyrus kept her head lowered as she reminded herself, Don’t look into his eyes. Don't show him compassion, and concentrated on the goal. She wrapped her hand around his heart. Its pace matched her own heart’s, and the warmth she held was almost welcoming.

Quick. No more pain.

It happened in one rapid motion. With a cry she pulled the source of his life from the cage that held it. The muscle pulsed, the line was cut, and she held the slowing heart away from its owner.
He reached out to her with a sticky crimson hand, pleading with his eyes for her to mend the pain, repair the wound. Only, she didn’t, and her victim collapsed against the cold forest trail as his remaining blood seeped into the earth.

Zephyrus clenched her fist around the man’s heart as it slowed. With each beat she tightened her grip a little more; a snake coiled against its prey. Finally the beating stopped, the nerves quit and the deep red that stained her arm began to grow cold.

Behind her, Zephyrus heard a slight chuckle from her companion.

Elloro made his way out of the underbrush and onto the trail, “Very nice,” he stopped beside her and looked down at her work, an eyebrow raised and an unsure smirk across his lips. Already the man’s blood had soaked through the thick fabric of his tunic and vest. Elloro eyed the organ in Zephyrus’ hand and she held it out to him, as if it were to be tossed aside without another thought. Her eyes were still fixed on the corpse in front of her.

“Are you sure this was the man?” Elloro questioned, tentatively taking the heart from her.

Zephyrus crouched beside the body and began sifting through the pockets and crevices of his clothing for her prize, “Well, if it wasn’t, there’s not much we can do to rectify that now, is there?”

Elloro stopped for a moment, considering, “You’re a very positive person, you know that?”


No idea who the characters are, no idea what time-frame, etc . . . It's just been one of THOSE days . . .


No comments: