Epic Scenes I've Written in the Past

Obsession Is a Helluva Drug

(A Non-Canon Evil Within 2 Roleplay Starter written by our Partner System's Stefano Valentini and posted with his permission.)

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That girl that ran into him a time ago... What was it now? A month or so? No, it's been a few years, is that right? It didn't feel that way, but it was- That girl, no... No, that young woman who helped him in his work; even giving him a new perspective on it all...

Acquiring materials- No, it was... Art. His victims, they became Canvases... Each scream became a symphony; why must his final work, his finished product be the only thing to be admired? Why can't the entire process be entertaining?

Why not? It is his work after all... Might as well enjoy it to the fullest, yes?

That young woman who appreciated his craft that night- Those storm-filled blue eyes with a haze of grey... He easily recalled how they witnessed his rage, how a familiar horror glistened through them as lightning would through darkened clouds; how curious fascination danced through them in glimmering wonder...

How contentment wondered that youthful face of unblemished curiosity; he recalled easily as her delicately gloved hand held his own crafted knife of nightmares past with no fear of the pain and shock that very knife left in itself... Her parted lips of innocence gracing his ear with words of possibility, laying upon his wounded mind notions of greater beauty than just the lovely crimson that had pooled below that canvas they created together; as easily as ink from a encumbered fountain pen onto parchment, her naïvely elegant form caught his aspiring eye.

Its very potential... Its posterity and youth, its untarnished grace... Or so he saw that night- the similarly wounded mind he witnessed, he found interest in that most of all; of those unseen wounds he knew well.

She was like a mosaic formed by eclectic shards of normalcy and yet completely foreign-like, gathered together in a wonderful work of existence... A piece of art forged in the most perfect medium; not of marble no, too harsh a substance and difficult to shape.

But also not of clay, no... That's far too malleable and easily ruined- not of wood either, too rigid in its like...

Ah, but wait! To think of flesh and blood itself... It is the perfect mix of sturdiness and malleability, of conformity and defiance- that is what she was, not a work of Art; no, that was too mundane and insulting, frankly. No...

She was a Masterpiece.

She is a masterwork, crafted to perfection as she was. He couldn't possibly let her disappear from his life so swiftly, no- not after that night. Not after what he came to realize among their brief time in each other's company.

He would find his thoughts shifting to her from time to time- night to occasional night...

How was that young woman fairing now? Was she alone? Had she found a place to call home? Had she been discovered in what she helped him with? Had her... "Father" discovered her? Oh, he hoped that wasn't so-

Wait... Was he worrying about her?

No, he couldn't be. Was it even a worry or was it something more? Something less? Something horrid? Something not?

Ugh, it didn't matter what it was... For time between time he'd see her, think of her, hear her... Obsess over her...

Something about her was just... A dose of something he simply had to have, whatever it was!

He couldn't put a finger on it but... It was absolved as long as he could see her; when she left his sight even for a moment, a creeping withdrawal would slowly take hold of him.

He tried taking photos of her to try and abstain this grasping need of her, but to no avail... She couldn't possibly know of this, of what he had been doing; he was careful enough to keep her unaware- staying away for a time, keeping himself hidden and at a fair enough distance...

But as of now? Now he couldn't keep himself away from her any longer; he had to see her again! It had been a week, or so he thought... He was starting to lose count of the days since he last saw her; so tonight, he sought her again.

~<🥀>~

As she walked along the streets, that stranger she once met stood a far distance behind her, simply watching her as she wondered of him. After a few more moments he would follow; much like he had several days ago, keeping his distance and yet being close enough to forget of his painful obsession of the very sight of her for a while.

He didn't care where she was headed or with whom she stayed with, those details were meaningless in this moment!

Simply knowing that she was in the sight of his visible eye and that he could watch her as he had been doing for longer than it is perhaps healthy to do without her knowing about it... He simply followed her as a ghost would after mortal remembrance; distant yet insistent, his eye following her step as she walked, his ear taking in her melody she sang and its words.

It was a song he may not find himself familiar with; yet it was welcomed, such a voice of her practiced ease and accuracy- it truly appeased his state of being yet, eroded it in blissful indulgence.