Kohaku | royal violinist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
violined) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
afterliving2014-02-14 09:54 pm
violined) wrote in afterliving2014-02-14 09:54 pm
8th Concert - [ audio/action ] my bloody valentine
[ There was nothing more suited to be the last straw than this. Kohaku was always walking a thin line between sanity and the deep abyss of his mind and past. Even his annoyed and violent normal self was not all of the cruelty he was capable of. When there was real hatred involved, Kohaku finally became a kind of monster himself.
Tolerating the NPCs had always been hard, but he managed, limiting himself to occasional kicks and pushes and punches. That was until they started approaching him this day. Even mere approaching might have been something Kohaku could handle, but out of all things they told him they loved him... they wanted him.. dead, possibly. None of these things were things Kohaku dealt very well with. Crazy possessive lovers are unpleasant, but not as awful of the entire idea of these... these... horrible artificial dolls trying to lure him in.
As the first one pulls a knife, he's only too happy to respond in fashion. That he turns on his phone's recording function as he reaches in his pocket goes unnoticed. ]
Love? Don't fucking make me laugh! [ Noises of movement and a scream, doubtlessly not from Kohaku. ] Gahahaha! That's what you deserve, artificial piece of shit! Feelings? You? You're all as fake as it can get, dolls, empty shells, pretty playthings for a sick puppeteer.
[ Yuri may have told him to not injure or let alone kill the NPCs, but right now Kohaku lost any ability to control himself. For anybody walking by it's a gruesome scene. The NPCs may be armed themselves, but Kohaku is skilled at throwing knives and he shows no mercy this time. Just injuries aren't enough anymore. He needs to see them bleed, bleed, bleed out, their blood tinting every card and every package of chocolate they may have brought. ]
What are you screaming for? It's not like you were ever alive to begin with! Gahahahahahahaha, just die, filthy imitations! Oh wait, you can't!
[ Maybe he's enjoying this a little too much. There is just so much pent up frustration from all the last months inside of him and now finally, finally he lets loose completely, acting on all his hatred and sheer paranoia. He is scared of them, terrified to the bones. There is nothing more horrifying than dolls pretending to be alive and as such there is also nothing more despicable. It's as if by erasing them, he could also erase his own inner hell.
He can't though. There is no cure for these feelings and even if there was, it would not relate to causing a blood bath. Still, the hall in front of the music room is a mess now. Blood splattered everywhere and corpses... Some of them with their throats slid expertly, others otherwise injured or also murdered. And then there's Kohaku, grinning insanely in a tense way that makes him look about to cry just alike, chucking every other second, kicking the bodies violently. ]
Tolerating the NPCs had always been hard, but he managed, limiting himself to occasional kicks and pushes and punches. That was until they started approaching him this day. Even mere approaching might have been something Kohaku could handle, but out of all things they told him they loved him... they wanted him.. dead, possibly. None of these things were things Kohaku dealt very well with. Crazy possessive lovers are unpleasant, but not as awful of the entire idea of these... these... horrible artificial dolls trying to lure him in.
As the first one pulls a knife, he's only too happy to respond in fashion. That he turns on his phone's recording function as he reaches in his pocket goes unnoticed. ]
Love? Don't fucking make me laugh! [ Noises of movement and a scream, doubtlessly not from Kohaku. ] Gahahaha! That's what you deserve, artificial piece of shit! Feelings? You? You're all as fake as it can get, dolls, empty shells, pretty playthings for a sick puppeteer.
[ Yuri may have told him to not injure or let alone kill the NPCs, but right now Kohaku lost any ability to control himself. For anybody walking by it's a gruesome scene. The NPCs may be armed themselves, but Kohaku is skilled at throwing knives and he shows no mercy this time. Just injuries aren't enough anymore. He needs to see them bleed, bleed, bleed out, their blood tinting every card and every package of chocolate they may have brought. ]
What are you screaming for? It's not like you were ever alive to begin with! Gahahahahahahaha, just die, filthy imitations! Oh wait, you can't!
[ Maybe he's enjoying this a little too much. There is just so much pent up frustration from all the last months inside of him and now finally, finally he lets loose completely, acting on all his hatred and sheer paranoia. He is scared of them, terrified to the bones. There is nothing more horrifying than dolls pretending to be alive and as such there is also nothing more despicable. It's as if by erasing them, he could also erase his own inner hell.
He can't though. There is no cure for these feelings and even if there was, it would not relate to causing a blood bath. Still, the hall in front of the music room is a mess now. Blood splattered everywhere and corpses... Some of them with their throats slid expertly, others otherwise injured or also murdered. And then there's Kohaku, grinning insanely in a tense way that makes him look about to cry just alike, chucking every other second, kicking the bodies violently. ]