hasar x xer part 1

Hasar felt drained. He had just written prose of the like no one, perhaps even the Lord Himself, would ever suspect he was capable of even imagining, and for good reason. The very thought of the words written down made him... uncomfortable.

Pulse racing? In strictly violent aggression, perhaps. It was true he marveled at the recipient's combat prowess, if only because it astounded him that the man managed to survive his own incompetence long enough to die at the hands of some enemy. Sometimes several times.

He still felt something was missing. Something about the horrendous work of beautifully grotesque art before him was scratching at his very soul like talons on a chalkboard. His very being could not allow it in its present state. Something had to be done. Oh, yes, it was almost bearable if only to see the look on Xer's face when he received it... as unlikely as it would be that he would receive that pleasure.

Oh Lord, not that word. Another one. Fuck.

As unlikely as it would be. There. That is all that needs to be said. Likely, he'd hear about it later.

Yes, that was more neutral. He'd already written far too much about completely false feelings and pleasures, it was starting to make him physically ill to even think those words for the briefest of moments. Well, he was already feeling ill, but it was certainly making the feeling worsen.

Back to the subject at hand, something was still missing. Ahah. It must be signed. Yes, Snarflbutt shall do. Oh, do it shall.

With his letter complete, he could only imagine Xer's smooth, graciously flawed face. Er... the look on it. Not the face itself. Who cares about that man's face? Really? No one did. Certifiably, he was sure.

It would be a priceless look on an otherwise worthless face, though. Maybe if he timed it just right, he could get a glimpse. Not that he needed to. Not that he wanted to. He decided against it. He would just mail it, that's all.