Killing

[annwfyn.livejournal.com]

The aftermath is never as good as I think it will be.

I mean, I like killing. Don't get me wrong. I love the build up, I love the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I love the moment I step out, when I wonder for the first time whether I'm actually coming back this time. I love that feeling of not knowing and, I love, more than anything, that single beautiful perfect instant where it all hangs in the balance, and then tips over and someone falls into the velvety sleep of death.

But somehow, in the afterwards, when it's all done, it never feels as good as I think it will.

The peace doesn't last. The quiet gets drowned out by the rest of the world, laughing, or talking, or crying, or shouting. I don't feel as happy as I should, I can't celebrate, and instead I'm left with this odd flatness inside. I'm left wondering, over and over, whether what I've done really mattered.

Tonight it's especially bad. What the fuck did I do? I killed a dragon? Was that thing even real? Or just some kind of metaphysical construct? Fucked if I know. Everyone else is shouting and celebrating and I feel...nothing. Well, except for a bit sore where the motherfucking dragon burned me.

I don't feel anything.

Maybe I'm getting old. I go outside and I see Eliza for a bit, who seems pretty tired too. It's been a rough year for us, hasn't it? What with David and Reuben both dying and all. She hugs me for a while, and for the first time in years I just don't want to let go. But it's late and she has places to be, and so I walk away, back into the brightly lit room where all the Kindred are still laughing over the glorious death of something as utterly fucking ridiculous as a dragon.

Daniel's there. He's obliging enough and puts his arms around me, like he's just a boy and I'm just a girl or some shit like that. God knows why we pretend. Even in life, he was a malevolent little shit and I was a psychotic junkie. Still, it's nice to have a bit of companionship for a moment.

I killed a dragon.

So why doesn't that mean anything any more?

A writing challenge

[annwfyn.livejournal.com]

So, for everyone, have a challenge!

Killing.

How does your PC feel about killing? Have they killed? How does that make them feel?

It's quite a big part of our game world really, and I think in some ways the bit we shy away from properly analysing the most.