04-22-2018, 04:04 PM
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[shadow=darkblue,right]KILLUA[/shadow]
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Numb. The pain had been a huge factor for him while he was growing up. At a very young age, he was given the rundown of what he would be doing for practically the rest of his life. He had agreed to what they were doing at the time because they had even said that it was going to beneficial to him in the end. Which it had been, but at what cost? He wondered what it would be like to have all of his emotions flow out of his body like water from a drain. What other's would think of him if they realized how broken and vulnerable he actually was when it came to the aspects of life. It sounded pitiful to even think about, but he knew that he wasn't all-powerful anymore. His family had made sure that he would never be and always made him feel weak when he was around them. Except for a couple of his siblings, he knew that he couldn't win in a fight against his oldest brother, as that would be suicide. He had tried time and time again, and the tiger had been the one to torture him to his near-death experiences over the months that he had been alive. Even with something as extreme as that, Killua began to become used to the pain that was dished out toward him. If other's were able to see a large number of scars that were underneath his fur, they would probably think of him as being grotesque. Yet, he had didn't receive any scars from the likes of a clanner, the scars that he either made himself or had gotten from his brother. No one else in his family had been the one to torture Killua for his training, as his mother and father were barely involved. They just told Illumi what to do, and like a good son, he followed whatever he was told. Actually, that was a lie, as some of the butlers had been tasked with punishing him based on his actions toward the rest of the family. The lashings didn't start till later in his life when he started to rebel against his family as he realized that they were lying to him and trying to manipulate him. They didn't care about him. They didn't CARE. The pain wasn't a feeling that he really felt all that often, at least physically. It was almost impossible to hurt the wildcat physically and try to make him scream out in pain. If any other group somehow captured him and tried to torture him, he probably wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain. Resorting to just grunting as his limbs would be broken. Now if someone tried to target his eyes or try to cut off his tongue, then, of course, he would start to feel pain in that regard. There was no way to torture one's eye without making them go blind and the Zoldyck's couldn't afford to have Killua go blind in one eye during his training. Killua had his bones broken over and over again in his life, which meant they weren't as brittle as one would think since due to his young age he was able to heal pretty quickly. Although maybe not as quick as some animals that lived in the clans, he was able to heal himself up quite well either way. The assassin wasn't magical after all, and he was just basically a serval that had experience and modifications that helped him in life. If a tiger or lion were to grab hold of him, there would be little that Killua could end up do to get out of that situation. Relying on his speed was obvious thanks to his lithe form. Killua knew that he should be glad that he couldn't feel any sort of pain. But having watched clanners go through the pain that they went through, he wasn't sure if he could relate to what was happening to them. Sure, he could go back to think about the time that he was practically skinned alive thanks to his brother, but that pain would be different than what they were going through. Most of the aspects of his training usually fogged itself over in his head, as it was due to the repetition that his training had all of the time.
He should be glad that he didn't remember every aspect of the training that he had to go through, because if he did he might go insane from the thoughts that would creep into his mind. Killua felt numb when it came to the marks that he usually inflicted on himself. Self-inflicted wounds weren't exactly rare when it came to the assassin. Some of the wounds were created by accident, which happened if he woke up after a night terror and accidentally claw up his arms while he was flailing around in his sleep. There were still plenty of times where the wounds weren't created by accident, and instead for a purpose. He wanted to FEEL. He wanted to know what it felt like for him to be injured just like the blood that he had spilled over his life. Maybe he deserved to know what pain it felt like, or what it felt like to lose someone out of consideration that he had never lost anyone that he cared about. The assassin's claws were perfect for making clean cuts that he could stitch up and hide in between his fur without making a scene. He could also hide the scent of blood that would ultimately come off of his body thanks to the wounds. Part of him knew what he was doing was wrong. Ad yet, he didn't know what else he could possibly do. He had to atone for the things that he had done in his life, and every time he had a chance to laugh or even have fun in the clans, he was rushed with a feeling of guilt. He didn't DESERVE this. He was a killer, and shouldn't know what it was like to have feelings and emotions that he couldn't identify spring up. He was glad that he was numb because he could sometimes push his emotions to the back of his head. Killua refused to talk to other's about what he was going through, and that meant that he was bound to just be a bomb that was waiting to go off. The cuts that he had made himself were mementos for the tragedies he had committed, even if it wasn't really of his own actions. He had believed that he was doing what was right for his family. Killua was told that family was everything at a young age, and he would do everything for his family to make sure that they were proud of him. He was there to appease to their wishes, to make them happy, while sacrificing his own life in the process. Cuts ran along his arms and his shoulders. The pain was the only distraction from the voices in his head, and he felt sick. He was sick. He knew this, and still, what could he possibly do? He couldn't cry out for help. He refused to. He pushed other's away from him so that they didn't get to close. Having someone close to him just meant that they were probably doomed to die potentially by his own claws or the claws of another clanner. You are nothing but a puppet of darkness. You only feel happy when you kill someone. Killua visibly flinched as the words entered his head. He knew that he was being manipulated, and his body would still continue to listen to the commands that his older brother would give it. Killua wanted to figure out if the other's words rang true. Did he only feel joy when killing? That had to be a lie. His recent kill had almost made him want to vomit the shame he had of the crime that he had committed. Killua forced himself to look back toward Argus, who didn't seem to be upset with the situation at all.
Obviously, she didn't want to tell him everything, but he probably didn't want to know everything that she had done. She had probably been like him, but more ruthless than he was when he was just a kit that laughed hysterically when killed someone. The thought made his gut twist slightly as his sapphire blue eyes looked over her the entire time in a calculative way. He wasn't one to miss small details, and in a situation like this, he couldn't afford to. Then she started to talk about a memory that he couldn't remember. He had returned her child and had tried to stand up for him. And yet, why hadn't he stopped the one that was torturing him if it meant that much to him? It sounded like a poor excuse to just save his own ass instead of actually taking the blame for what had happened to her son. The white wolf said that he had helped her. Something that Killua couldn't exactly come to terms with, as he rarely tried to help others. Killua lowered his gaze to look down at the snow that was between his slightly pink paws. He could help. Why had that memory been erased though? Static started to feel his thoughts and made a scowl of frustration pass across his features. He wanted to know what he had lost. What his family had taken away from him. Was there any point trying to chase the past though for something that he couldn't have anymore? He wasn't sure anymore, but it was worth a shot as some sort of closure for what he had done. When the other said that an assassin was trying to protect the peace in the likes of a clan, he couldn't help but let out a light chuckle from his jaws. "Sounds pretty ironic and hypocritical." Killua stated, trying his best to maintain a joking tone. While at the same time keeping his voice from shaking from the emotions that were running through his body. Killua wanted to say that there was no need for her to return the favor. She had lost her child and didn't have to fight anymore to make amends for something that he couldn't even remember. Killua needed the help though, and the other seemed to have at least some knowledge of what was going on and maybe an idea how to fight it. The white wolf was obviously strong all things considered, and maybe he could use that to his advantage. But was she as strong as her brother? He wasn't sure. He would have to document all of her powers and fighting styles. Not like it mattered because his brother used poison needles so she would probably be dead as soon as she was struck by one. The other seemed to be confident in her skills though, which made him raise his head again, his shortened tail swaying from side to side as he considered his options. Did he even have any? Then he was given a choice, that surprised him a little bit, causing his sapphire blue yes to widened slightly. A choice. He hadn't had one of those for a while. Talk now, or talk later. He wanted to talk now because there was so much that he didn't know. But it was obvious that his brother didn't want him to stay with the feeling that blossomed in his chest began to increase, making it hard for him to breath. Fear. His air elemental's kept the scent from permeating through the air for the meantime. He hated this. God, he hated this. He sucked in a breath as silence passed through them for a couple seconds. "Fine, I'll answer some questions. Just... give me a second." Killua would then start to look around, his metal claws flexing into the snow. He then looked at the tree that was next to him and the low hanging branch He walked over toward the tree, and the serval crouched down, bunching up the muscles in his back legs. He focused on the way that his body was working instead of thinking about the fear that was coursing through his body. Finally, with the ten-foot leap that the serval was capable of manage, he was able to sink his claws into the branch with ease and hall himself up with almost what seemed to be grace. Now ten feet above the ground, he laid himself down on the branch, the fear that he had being so close to the wolf lessoned some. Which had been the point of gaining some distance between him and the canine. "Distance... helps. But you're asking questions I get to ask some of my own. What's your name?" Killua questioned, a question that he was pretty sure that he had asked before when they first met and the female had refused to answer him. Which was strange because the other knew now that he wasn't capable of remembering who she was in the first place. He was just tired of constantly referring to her as the white wolf than anything else. His gaze was directed downward toward the canine, and with the distance that he had gained, he seemed to have to calm down soon, but it would only last for a short time.
He should be glad that he didn't remember every aspect of the training that he had to go through, because if he did he might go insane from the thoughts that would creep into his mind. Killua felt numb when it came to the marks that he usually inflicted on himself. Self-inflicted wounds weren't exactly rare when it came to the assassin. Some of the wounds were created by accident, which happened if he woke up after a night terror and accidentally claw up his arms while he was flailing around in his sleep. There were still plenty of times where the wounds weren't created by accident, and instead for a purpose. He wanted to FEEL. He wanted to know what it felt like for him to be injured just like the blood that he had spilled over his life. Maybe he deserved to know what pain it felt like, or what it felt like to lose someone out of consideration that he had never lost anyone that he cared about. The assassin's claws were perfect for making clean cuts that he could stitch up and hide in between his fur without making a scene. He could also hide the scent of blood that would ultimately come off of his body thanks to the wounds. Part of him knew what he was doing was wrong. Ad yet, he didn't know what else he could possibly do. He had to atone for the things that he had done in his life, and every time he had a chance to laugh or even have fun in the clans, he was rushed with a feeling of guilt. He didn't DESERVE this. He was a killer, and shouldn't know what it was like to have feelings and emotions that he couldn't identify spring up. He was glad that he was numb because he could sometimes push his emotions to the back of his head. Killua refused to talk to other's about what he was going through, and that meant that he was bound to just be a bomb that was waiting to go off. The cuts that he had made himself were mementos for the tragedies he had committed, even if it wasn't really of his own actions. He had believed that he was doing what was right for his family. Killua was told that family was everything at a young age, and he would do everything for his family to make sure that they were proud of him. He was there to appease to their wishes, to make them happy, while sacrificing his own life in the process. Cuts ran along his arms and his shoulders. The pain was the only distraction from the voices in his head, and he felt sick. He was sick. He knew this, and still, what could he possibly do? He couldn't cry out for help. He refused to. He pushed other's away from him so that they didn't get to close. Having someone close to him just meant that they were probably doomed to die potentially by his own claws or the claws of another clanner. You are nothing but a puppet of darkness. You only feel happy when you kill someone. Killua visibly flinched as the words entered his head. He knew that he was being manipulated, and his body would still continue to listen to the commands that his older brother would give it. Killua wanted to figure out if the other's words rang true. Did he only feel joy when killing? That had to be a lie. His recent kill had almost made him want to vomit the shame he had of the crime that he had committed. Killua forced himself to look back toward Argus, who didn't seem to be upset with the situation at all.
Obviously, she didn't want to tell him everything, but he probably didn't want to know everything that she had done. She had probably been like him, but more ruthless than he was when he was just a kit that laughed hysterically when killed someone. The thought made his gut twist slightly as his sapphire blue eyes looked over her the entire time in a calculative way. He wasn't one to miss small details, and in a situation like this, he couldn't afford to. Then she started to talk about a memory that he couldn't remember. He had returned her child and had tried to stand up for him. And yet, why hadn't he stopped the one that was torturing him if it meant that much to him? It sounded like a poor excuse to just save his own ass instead of actually taking the blame for what had happened to her son. The white wolf said that he had helped her. Something that Killua couldn't exactly come to terms with, as he rarely tried to help others. Killua lowered his gaze to look down at the snow that was between his slightly pink paws. He could help. Why had that memory been erased though? Static started to feel his thoughts and made a scowl of frustration pass across his features. He wanted to know what he had lost. What his family had taken away from him. Was there any point trying to chase the past though for something that he couldn't have anymore? He wasn't sure anymore, but it was worth a shot as some sort of closure for what he had done. When the other said that an assassin was trying to protect the peace in the likes of a clan, he couldn't help but let out a light chuckle from his jaws. "Sounds pretty ironic and hypocritical." Killua stated, trying his best to maintain a joking tone. While at the same time keeping his voice from shaking from the emotions that were running through his body. Killua wanted to say that there was no need for her to return the favor. She had lost her child and didn't have to fight anymore to make amends for something that he couldn't even remember. Killua needed the help though, and the other seemed to have at least some knowledge of what was going on and maybe an idea how to fight it. The white wolf was obviously strong all things considered, and maybe he could use that to his advantage. But was she as strong as her brother? He wasn't sure. He would have to document all of her powers and fighting styles. Not like it mattered because his brother used poison needles so she would probably be dead as soon as she was struck by one. The other seemed to be confident in her skills though, which made him raise his head again, his shortened tail swaying from side to side as he considered his options. Did he even have any? Then he was given a choice, that surprised him a little bit, causing his sapphire blue yes to widened slightly. A choice. He hadn't had one of those for a while. Talk now, or talk later. He wanted to talk now because there was so much that he didn't know. But it was obvious that his brother didn't want him to stay with the feeling that blossomed in his chest began to increase, making it hard for him to breath. Fear. His air elemental's kept the scent from permeating through the air for the meantime. He hated this. God, he hated this. He sucked in a breath as silence passed through them for a couple seconds. "Fine, I'll answer some questions. Just... give me a second." Killua would then start to look around, his metal claws flexing into the snow. He then looked at the tree that was next to him and the low hanging branch He walked over toward the tree, and the serval crouched down, bunching up the muscles in his back legs. He focused on the way that his body was working instead of thinking about the fear that was coursing through his body. Finally, with the ten-foot leap that the serval was capable of manage, he was able to sink his claws into the branch with ease and hall himself up with almost what seemed to be grace. Now ten feet above the ground, he laid himself down on the branch, the fear that he had being so close to the wolf lessoned some. Which had been the point of gaining some distance between him and the canine. "Distance... helps. But you're asking questions I get to ask some of my own. What's your name?" Killua questioned, a question that he was pretty sure that he had asked before when they first met and the female had refused to answer him. Which was strange because the other knew now that he wasn't capable of remembering who she was in the first place. He was just tired of constantly referring to her as the white wolf than anything else. His gaze was directed downward toward the canine, and with the distance that he had gained, he seemed to have to calm down soon, but it would only last for a short time.
snowbound -- snowseeker -- male -- 8 moons
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Tags | Updated 03/26/17:
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ASSASSINATION THE FAMILY TRADE
WE ALL TAKE IT UP
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albino serval | extreme difficulty | BIO