Big Book Of Parvill One Shots

What's Yours Is Mine (S)

TW: Spoilers For Blood And Chaos #48, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Vague Suggestion of Ineffability

He danced with mortals.

He was a dark, chaotic beast and they were bright wild things, energetic and bursting with such life that was glorious and strange to him. His very presence whittled them down and dulled their light, but still he was drawn to that moment before the dusk where they shone with glory.

They called him cruel, and they hated him, and they feared him.

He didn't know why they did that.

He wanted to know, though.

So he vivisected them.

___________________________

It had been a joke.

Parv was blubbering away, putting on the fakest of sobs and crossing his arms in actual annoyance. He kept going on and on and on about that damned demonic pickaxe and that demon that happened to just trip and fall into the lava. It had gotten past the point of believable sadness and was now just not funny anymore.

The mock prayer that Strife had offered to the gods was filling him with fey trickster feels, and he was feeling a bit naughty. Naughty enough to break one or two of his self imposed rules, set so very long ago.

He grasped around for some strange feelings that he had not felt for a very long time, grabbed onto a few threads of- of magic, and pulled. And he had beckoned Parvis up to him-

And reached into his chest-

And pulled out his heart.

It was still beating, pulsating to the song that was Parv's miserable life. Wow, human hearts looked weird with those tubes sticking out and that pinkness was just plain disgusting. Strife stared at it, turning it this way and that way.

Parv looked a bit like a dead fish, his mouth opened in a perfect little 'o' as the initial shock overtook him. "Wow," he said, "that's- that's horrible." But already, the emotion had drained from his voice and he sounded slightly interested as he said, "you're horrible."

Strife shrugged. He knew he was.

"You know," said Parvis, "I do feel better now. I'm above emotion now."

What?

"I don't have to be trapped in this mausoleum of sorrow. I'm free now, Will. Not constrained by these irrational emotions." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Strife blinked. Was this how humans reacted to being heartless?

Did they feel that burdened by their emotions?

Parv was pacing now, constantly moving in a suspiciously sharklike manner. "I can just get on with whatever needs to be done. This is amazing. I'm not- I'm not there anymore."

To himself, Strife muttered under his breath, "What have I done?"

"There's no Parvis anymore," and Parv turned to him, dark eyes shining. "Yeah, I still look like this 'Parvis', and I have flesh and skin and all that other junk, but there's nothing here."

Strife had had enough. He marched up to Parvis, who was slyly asking him if he wanted to 'compare business cards', and he plunged the bloody heart back.

Immediately, Parv's face contorted into a strange kind of horror as he had realised what he had done. He sobbed for a bit, blubbered about how he had turned into a 'Patrick Bateman', and Strife thought-