Cerberus.~

Okay. Randomly felt like typing something up because my Cerberus muse is everywhere.~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sit in my corner, alone. A corner of solitude, I like to call it.

People bustle all around me. There are many different sounds. Feet sloshing through the muddy street, the rustle of cloaks, the constant hum of car engine’s and many different voices, all blended together. As I sit here, I hear many laughs, and the occasional cry.

There are smells, too. The filthy stench of human waste emanating from a sewer grate just to my left. The smell of methane gas from the cars I mentioned previously. And then the scent of sweet roses from a nearby flower shop, blending with the smell of crispy, freshly baked bread from the bakery right next to it.

Some think the smells and noises are chaos. They never stop. I… I find it to be a comfort.

The scents and the emotion from the voices surrounding me make me feel human. The brush of wind through my hair, the feel of silk against my outstretched palm, and the pining fingers of the many street prostitutes in this city also make me feel human.

Because all of those- I can feel. All of those sensations. A kiss, a stroke, and a hug… to me, they are precious.
But they are precious to all people, you might say.

And I would reply saying that- yes. You are indeed right. But they are more precious to me than to any regular person. For to me, just a little stroke is ecstatic.

I suppose you could say I am addicted to touch. The smells and sounds around me are all beautiful, but touch is what I truly crave.

You must wonder why.

I myself, am not sure how to explain it. My mind is an enigma.

I can not feel emotion. At least…I assume I can not. I have a few brief memories of when I was happy, once…but as quickly as those memories come, they leave just as fast.

Maybe this lack of emotional feelings is why I enjoy touching and being touched. Because, in that moment, I feel connected to another person. And I realize that I am indeed still human. I still have humanity. I am no monster. I am not, I cannot be. I feel sensation. I might not feel pain or emotion…but I am not completely numb.

He has not taken that away from me. At least, not yet. Though every day I feel myself slipping.

That is why I come here often. Sit down in this corner, when I am not busy. The noises, the many scents, and the emotion on the faces of people around me serve as a pleasant distraction.

Their voices block out his voice. Falco’s constant voice. Bantering, degrading.

Constantly drawling.

Telling me to kill.

To hurt.

To drag the innocent to him.

To see the blood.

To relish in their tears.

To enjoy the screams.

…

No.

Stop.

I will not.

He might make me slip every once in a while, but I will not let him take complete control.
I close my eyes.

”Why not.” the voice comes to me in my mind. It is a question, but the way the voice asks it is so blunt. I feel my lips tug into a small frown, and I cover my face with a hand so no one is startled to see the struggle on my features.

”…”

I hear a chuckle in my mind because of my silence. It is dark and deep- exactly like my own chuckle.

”No one loves you. Cerberus. No one. You. Alone. Listen. Blood. Tears. Pain. Death. You enjoy those things. Enjoy them with me.”

I frown more. He is right, of course. I do enjoy them. I am not proud of that fact. But my mind is twisted. I am a monster. He has made me so. I am his puppet. …How could someone be capable of loving me? Especially when I am uncapable of loving them back?

The chuckle grows. He can read my thought process, even though I did not think of anything direct to send him as my retort.

”Cousin.”

The word reverberates through my mind. I feel my body give an involuntary twitch.

Then the heavy presence of him in my mind is gone. The world crashes back to me, the roaring sound of a city rapidly returning. He tends to do that. Often slithering into my mind like a coiled snake ready to strike, just to offer some insight, and then leaving me without even a goodbye.

I drop my now clammy hand from my face. I can feel that my expression is empty, as usual, and even though I just had an encounter with Falco, I am oddly calm. How am I so calm? Hmph.

I stand. Correct my scarf. Pull the sleeve on my right arm further down to hide the mutilation there. Then blend in with the people on the street. Many of them give me dirty looks. Some of them hoard away their little children, woman tucking toddlers to their bosoms. And, just a few of the people smile at me, and I offer a forced smile back.

I suppose you could say I have a reputation. Some see me as a monster who occasionally is with no control. And some seem to respect me, for when my mind is not cluttered with Falco’s voice, I am supposedly kind.
It does not matter. They can think of me as they wish.

Whether or not they see me as a kind listener or a heartless killer is their choice.

I am Cerberus, an assassin for The Order. That is the price I pay.