Chapter Text
It was never much of a concern to wemmbu, really.
I mean, in the eldritch horrors demons are all kinda of things. Why does everyone look at him so differently when he tucks in?
;×;
The metallic tang still hung moist in the air, the signal of a battle long over. The stench wemmbu was no stranger to, his eyes glazed at the smell. And a desire pooled in the back of his throat It meant something else to him entirely.
It was time to eat.
;×;
Nobody understood his hunger.
Nobody bothered to listen.
Nobody validated it.
Denial is a beautiful thing, though the want to be understood is ever so heavy to those who care for it.
But wemmbu never asked, he never waited for the go ahead, he didn't care.
He loved the whistling of the wind drawing back his hair behind him, rockets exploding, totems popping and finally
Catmanjo56 was smashed by wemmbu using [Gambit]
Catmanjo56 left the game
It was exhilerating.
For him, food was food, a simple equation.
Why couldn't others wrap their head around it?
More for him I suppose.
;×;
His pupils dialated, his greed was inflamed and hungry.
Wemmbu's claws extended, sliding out his nailbeds cleanly with a jittering, familiarised anticipation. That excitement that swelled up in his stomach ever so disgustingly like how the ridges of wounds flayed upwards, jagged.
Copper flooded his senses as a claw, catching the etching sunlight of early morning gleam, glided against the stomach of the bandit, the first of today and the starter for the meal, the rest of them.
He prodded against the stretchy outer layer before breaking skin, tracing the side of the incision with dazed eyes.
Warm, sticky blood beaded around the edges before dripping over the sides, a webbed coating along his claw. Wemmbu melted in the feeling. The sickly sweet excitement clawing it's way up his throat as the bile became more bitter, the slight resistance of sharp against cushioned flesh.
A singular velvet ribbon across the skin.
Another, and another.
Until it felt enough.
Blood gushed from the wounds as if the bandit's own heart sought to pump it out of its body, or it had simply gave up the fight.
'what would egg think?'
His crazed gaze hardened, his half smile twitching and his hands a tremble, barely noticeable but there all the same at the thought of the angel.
Yet hunger is so heavy.
The squelching of his claws against innards as he lifted the flaps of flesh with a wet, obscene drowned out ripping sound. his hands coated in the oozing viscous liquid. Crimson bleeding into the fibres of his sleeves. Even the stone beneath him wept red tears around the dish.
He brought a claw up to his mouth, licking it, swiping his tongue in slow deliberate licks, savoring the metallic taste.
His trousers were already soaked from where he knelt, the blood stained the cobble already, red pooling between the cracks and rising higher in its crevasices, trickling down its structure.
Without a second's thought, wemmbu's claws dug, plunge, into the cavity of the bandit's stomach, blood raised through the gaps of his fingers and leaped into the air before splattering back down onto his arms, his face, his hunger. He gasped in excitement ever so slightly at the feeling, grappling at whatever he could anchor his hands, his claws on.
His claws dug into flesh and tore gashes in organs, his sleeves, blood-soaked, clung to his arms in a warm, sickly mess.
It streamed down his arms as he lifted a fist sypruped with the price of the fight as it pooled beneath him.
Warmth bloomed through his chest as the flesh made it to his stomach. It flickered vibrant warm oranges reds and a dash of sky blue.
His teeth grinded through the toughness of it, almost as if it still put up a fight long past the grave.
The rubbery, disgusting type of fulfillment leaked into his limbs, warm satisfaction rushing through his bloodstream. It infested him from the inside out.
He mashed a fistfull into his mouth again and again, the disturbed sounds of his chewing like a predator who finally caught its prey. It'd be pretty difficult to think with demon canines hounding on your flesh.
He could feel the rotting, he could taste it in his bones yet his excitement, inflamed red and hot, still itched. Shivers down his spine as his skin sweat against his bloodied sleeves. A gross mix of fluids dripping from his body.
Liquid sin smeared across his face for the whole server to see. It coated his chin and reached up his cheeks and nose. His face was riddled with the very thing this server held at its heart, anarchy.
'what would egg think?'
Tearing through more innards, velvet strings of ribbon flying around the field. It looked beautiful in a way. Like a dance.
Desire warped and twisted in his eyes, it festered and settled at the bottom of his stomach. Grinning warily, his frame shook a little more uncontrolled with each advance.
He indulged himself in the red coinage of the bandits. A small price to pay to be on this server.
'what would egg think?'
Violently his jaw gnashed, lapping up the strings, making an example of what meddling with others gets you.
A wrangled contortion of insides.
'what would egg think?'
He slurped and ripped his canines through the next one. His hands ravenged the next, new bursts of velvet and crimson dampening his hair and sloshing around his mouth, trickling down onto his already saturated shirt, heavy with the burdens of the bandits blood, all their troubles leaking out with their insides, intestines still half hanging out.
He left them unrecognisable. A puddle of gore and splintered bones.
'hey wemmbu?'
His head perked up.
He was messy. Gut covered and sticky. His head was light, airy, dizzy with the desire he had fulfilled.
'what would egg think?'
'what wodul dev thjnk?'
'whasy wjdhl egh tsbk?'
'whts wkshf sgv thfjn?'
'hwsh wkdjl ged tshin?'
'whahfnsodjkeggsjdid?"
"I..
Don't know."
Yet he still sought his afterimage in the glistening puddles of decay.
"What the fuck..?"
Flame doesn't think he's ever encountered a pile of human pulp. Trembling hands reach for his sword but they first curl over his stomach as he turns to retch in a bush.