Crimson Skies [Flashback]

[After almost four months of hiatus, it feels good to write something again. Even if it is something short and lacking in detail.]

"Candy!" she said, exasperated at the sight of the diabetic death trap of a cane striped red and white in spirit of the festivities of the worlds grandest marketing scam, Christmas. It never ceased to amaze him the extent to which the human psych would delude itself for no reason other than petty amusement, denial of reality which stung so painfully and excuse itself from the most cumbersome of their duties; jobs. What purpose did it serve to make merry over the birth of a non-existent being, an entity designed purely to place ones faith upon, to purge one of responsibility by granting them with a purely fictitious reason; fate. The weak who fret the burden of being held accountable for their own lives placed their faith upon those above them, and they in turn do the same towards their own superiors till a realization dawns that not all of their misfortunes could be attributed to those above them, and thus at the apex of this fabricated hierarchy of faith comes the savior; the almighty, god. How utterly pathetic he mused as he sauntered over to the designated bar to attend an event purely out of social obligation, comforting his realist self with such cynicism, a stark contrast to the persona he'd donned for the night to guise his dread.

While being surrounded by the company of friends would generally comfort one, Loki found himself shrinking to the shadows in his best attempt to avoid being noticed and engaged in pointless jabber which would do nothing but only dampen his spirits further, perhaps even infuriate his already annoyed self to the point of indulgence. And both he and his better half knew how that would transpire, a half he would've rather left home. But as expected she'd insisted to tag along, the word 'no' falling upon deaf ears as he uttered it for the hundredth time earlier that evening. And being as overbearing as she was she expected him to humor her small talk, a small price to pay in his opinion, for the pros of having her around. Even if it didn't make her any less intolerable, it did find him a reason not to slit her throat the first chance he got. But then again, how many bodies would have piled if it weren't for his timely interventions? How many would have needlessly lost their lives due to his own weakness? His own inability to contain himself? For that he was truly grateful and all anger drained away as he watched her flash that brilliant smile; the only one that could make him feel connected. The anchor that kept him from being swept away by his own tides. Sis... his thoughts trailing away towards the only memories he considered of value, the memories of his sister, he found himself drifting away from reality, steadily yet surely, to the point where all he did was walk. Walk like a sheep in its herd, so contained within his own mind that he didn't even notice the door in front of him till it hit him smack in middle of his face, leaving his nose swollen red as crimson trailed along the side of his mouth and finding him considering the pros versus cons of killing all those who'd witnessed this goof up.

Returning to full length by the helpful hand of his sister, he looked at her with those estranged eyes trying to understand. Trying to comprehend the reason she didn't laugh like the rest, but looked so kindly upon him. Wasn't it human nature to derive amusement from the embarrassment of others? To get off on the misery of others? But then again, he hardly considered her human. Rather, she was something transcendent beyond the concept of humanity. It wasn't that she was particularly kind or compassionate, or something along those lines. She was no saint. But she was above the flaws that defiled the rest of their race. Some philosopher had once said that the way we are all the same is that we are absent something common. A piece of our hearts and souls which would leave us forever insatiable. But as far as he knew, his sister was absent that void itself. There was something divine about her, in an ominous sense of the word. Something surreal. And it was that something which kept him anchored. Kept him connected.
Dusting the snow off his clothes, he did what he did best. Faked humility by smiling sheepishly at the rest of them, his gesture returned in kind. As he slowly caught back with reality, he realized that they'd already reached their destination. A wooden cabin near the outskirts of town, a guest house of sorts. Quaint to say the least, radiating a homely vibe from it, as if a family had lived there since the day it was made. The swing set hanging by the branch of one of the many healthy specimens sprawled across the vast expanse, a barbecue set-up complete with a 'Kiss the Cook' apron and rusted grills, and finally the many scars it'd acquired over the years which now seemed to present an intricate design of some sort.

After nearly slipping on the layer of frost that'd settled at the porch, and pricking himself with a piece of chipped off wood, he decided that the fates were not indicating a change in their moods. They'd mounted their menstrual cycle and were out to be bitches. So it would be in his best interest to sit at the back, spare an occasional laugh at the series of pathetic and cliche'd jokes sure to follow, and enjoy the food which he knew from experience was a truly mouth watering. And while at the time it sounded like a good plan, he was to realize that something entirely else was in store for him. Something that would change his life forever and leave him twisted and broken beyond redemption. For the first time, his instincts would betray him. What he'd felt would be an uneventful evening would turn out to be the turning point of his life. But for the time, he knew nothing. He sat not-so-blissfully ignorant of the events that were about to transpire, listening to the poorly fabricated tales of a girl midst a futile attempt to impress the lad, wondering if anyone would notice her missing the next day.

Kariforaniya, land of the barbarians as the demon thought, had once more tainted more lands in their influence. Spreading a seed of stupid destruction and terror. In other words, they invade other villages which they call tourism, and flood the place in dozens, destroying property and getting away with pulling off crazy shit.

The monster was very vigilant, his eyes were calculated and precise, looking around with not a vision spared on missing out a single detail around the cabin. Wearing a Kabuki demon mask with horns as they had mistaken him for the Kabuki actor, if there were a presence around. His sword drawn out and stained with red as his black clothing had contrasted and made him visible in the snowy background. Wearing a cuirass which has red metal, making him seem monstrous if anything.

Blood stained his katana is what provided the dye. His steps were silent to the inattentive, making subtle rustles for every step he took on the layer of snow. A demon that paced towards the pair, the girl and the lad which was met with a sudden 'urk!' escaping their throats as they had fell limp. Dead. Heads rolled.

"TARGETS ELIMINATED, KARIFORNIYAN INFLUENCE REDUCED TO NINETY SIX PERCENT, NEW TARGET... ACQUIRED."

The masked figure says, taking slow steps, as if what he is wearing is weighing down on his figure, slowing him down, that, or he is just fucking dramatic.

His hate for Kariforniyanun influence is certainly unrivaled. Just as it is his justification to kill. Personal and religious.

His sight was set and locked on the girl, Loki's sister, who has been playfully taking her time in skipping over the snow, chuckling innocently only to see a towering black figure staring her down to her side, as she was in front of Loki who was waning off the distance, too far to in fact do anything on time to reach her.

The man raised his sword above his head, unempathetic as it is the blood festivities of Shibito, not a time where females have their periods, but a time where Jashinists must make an annual murder in the name of their cult deity.

"[Insert something most likely said by Loki's sister here]"

"SILENCE! THIS VIRGIN SACRIFICE WILL SEAL THE RITES OF SHIBITO PASSAGE. MAY HER DEATH PROVIDE PROVIDENCE AND SUCCESS IN FUTURE ENDEAVORS." The demonic visage of a man says from his hidden lips, before bringing his sword down, his blade inclined to her head.

Blood poured down to the snow as the blade was parted in between her breasts, pulling out as her corpse fell, devoid of every sign of life, save for a reflexive twitch on her fingers. Blood staining the snow as her corpse was stomped on her head, splattering it into gory pieces in a curb stomp.

It was as if the man had not acknowledged Loki to be worthy of killing, a pebble in the presence of a monstrous beast. His head lingers to give the impression he is now looking at Loki, his mask obscures the smile he gives out to the brother of this insignificant insect. PATHETIC. She hasn't even shown resistance, or even ran away. A prey not worth anything, but the deed is done.

He has satisfied his faith. The very antithesis, the thing Loki hated most [as elaborated in Liozen's post]. Staring outwardly with a semblance of pity to the boy. If anything, a speck of pity. Nothing significant lest it remains a weakness.

His blade drenched in the blood of his sister, dripping red down to stain the white of the snow.