The body had to be disposed of. Sorian ran his hands along the axe handle. There was only one thing you could do to get rid of a corpse in the frigid north. Burn it. But before anything could be burnt, it had to be moved somewhere you could start a fire. He positioned his axe over its shoulder and removed its arm.
Vendelain watched, shaking his head. “Don’t you think this is a little extreme?”
“This is practical. If we do not relocate the body, then it will freeze over. Segmenting it is merely the most efficient means of transport.” Sorian dropped the ax down onto the dead man’s hip, severing the corpse’s thigh. One day, he hoped there would be a very different black-blood under his blade, preferably one who grew feathers. He leveled his axe at the body’s throat.
“I worry for you, sire.” Vendelain sighed. “This is growing into an obsession.”
“I would not classify my actions as ‘obsession,’ Vendelain. I simply accomplish the goals that I set.” Sorian raised the axe above his head and let it drop. The loosened head rolled sideways. He picked it up by the hair, letting the black blood drain onto the snow.
“Nonetheless, I still care, and I still worry.”
. - 071/100 Themes.
Ha! Sadists don’t listen to voices of reason! It's anyone's guess who the body is.Other Work Featuring These Characters:
Sorian Aljannen and Vendelain Feyr belong to Grace Fong,