N A M E . X z e n o n ( Zee-Non)
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G E N D E R . M a l e
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P E R S O NA L I T Y . X z e n o n . i s . c a o t i c . h e . h a s . f a c i n a t i o n . w i t h . c e r t i an . d a r k n e s s . w h a t . m a n y . c a l l . d e a t h.
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G E N D E R . M a l e
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P E R S O NA L I T Y . X z e n o n . i s . c a o t i c . h e . h a s . f a c i n a t i o n . w i t h . c e r t i an . d a r k n e s s . w h a t . m a n y . c a l l . d e a t h.
Darkness, yes darkness that is how it all became, it is all I remember cold, awful, and yet so thrilling. Killing, yes that is all I know, the screams of terror and the sounds of ripping flesh a music in its own chaotic beautiful way. The Screams, of the screams how defying and amazing, like a dark creature in the night, not fitting, unbelievable. The blood, yes the smell of rust, no it was blood. Yes blood, sweet and salty, the scarlet red trickling, splatting, tasty and the most fabulous smell. Accelerating, the feeling dangerous and thrilling. Plunging for the kill, the powerless wimpy unknowing kill, just flesh and bone. Crackling, oh the pure magnificent cracking and crackling of the bone, the marrow fun the scrape of with another bone. Their faces, I love to see their faces of terror, the face they reveal when they realize their time is up. The soul, the most delicate part, the best part. Gone. Gone the second I slash through them. I will wait, and I am waiting, for the next one, for the next kill.
