Information

Nithael
Legacy Name: Nithael

The

Darkmatter Telenine
Owner:

Dragons

Age: 6 years, 8 months, 1 week

Born: August 5th, 2017

Adopted: 6 years, 8 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: August 5th, 2017

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 1
Books Read: 1
Food Eaten: 6
Job: Unemployed

"I wasn't sure what to make of Mr. Holmes if I'm perfectly honest. Seemed like a bumbling country fool who had walked into something entirely out of his league. When I looked up the shire he claimed to hail from, it didn't even show up on Google Maps! Hah! A town so small even the world doesn't care to locate it. He would just be another thorn in my side like that Vale character who's shown up. Stay still now, I can't do my best with you if you continue to squirm! Now, where was I... oh yes! Icarius. Always smiling and flitting about like a moth to a dozen flames. I've never seen such unorthodox practices before in my life and yet... and yet..." He trailed off with a frown, the blade wavering in his hand for a moment. "He solved every case that the chief gave him. Impeccably so. Quickly, efficiently, as if it were mere child's play! I had always been the sole detective in this precinct. Vale came along and I don't even count the fool. He's always running off on secret missions and the like. Supernatural ones I believe. Ones I have no time to waste on. So then came Icarius... Mr. Icarius Holmes. Such an interesting character. Surely even uncouth trash like yourself have heard of the rising detective in the city?"
He continued to carve his way down the writhing figure, blood mixing with tears as he focused intently on his work. Flesh raised from the tip of his blade as he carefully sliced it free from muscles with the calm one would take scales from a fish. The crinkle of the bag was the only sound besides the muffled screams and sobs blocked by a crude gag he'd used countless times before. He was unsure what the color of it used to even be now.
"I'm sure you've heard of him," he continued. "He's brilliant. One of the finest minds I've ever encountered. What he could do if he would share this hobby of mine...! Oh he's fabulous. Simply beautiful to watch in action. He likes my work, you know. I've even been forced to step up my game for my darling detective. Something I've not had to do in years! I almost felt I would get rusty and yet he has come and lit a flame in me I scarce can describe! I feel it in my very bones you see. The need to do better, to get his attention on my work, hear him mutter compliments under his breath at the work... Oh I shiver at the memory he first mumbled a compliment of my work though I could tell he was loathe to do so! He calls me the Engraver. Isn't my detective cute?"

He pulled the skin free from its host and carefully set it in a mason jar with all the rest of the curling skin he had managed to free. The body beneath him had gone unnaturally still and yet he continued to talk, wiping blood off his canvas before continuing, slipping the blade into the belly and carving his way up.
"So if he calls me such, well I must comply? Of course, I won't always keep this same MO. It'd be too juvenile, and boring to do the same thing over and over. I can't wait to see his teeth grind on this one. He's gotten close to me you know, but never enough. It's a fun dance he and I do. You understand don't you? The thrill of sweeping in close to your partner only to whisk away~! The joy of chasing them down to hold them close again..." He made a particular savage thrust into their jaw, splitting it open in the process. "Yet now there's this woman! She waltzes in from some unknown, worthless police precinct and steals all my detective's attention from my cases to her case. One I'm sure given time he could solve in mere hours yet will she relinquish it? Of course not! She only wants to monopolize his time, steal him away from me and our precinct because she wants what she used to have! Well... this will gain his eyes back on me won't it? It's taken time, but I have finally found the perfect end to our beautiful Ms. Amy. It had to be perfect you see? Or else he wouldn't fall the way I want. He must break as I've seen him do over the most gruesome of cases, that little flicker of pain and fear that's covered up. I want it exposed completely, bared down to his very soul. If I capture his soul, his heart is surely of no importance. The soul is where his metamorphosis will begin. His mind is already mine, ensnared in the web of murders he can't solve, the threads I continue to weave through his thoughts until the failure haunts him. His intelligence turns against him, devours him, from the inside out. Not even that Amy woman will be able to pull him from me."
He removed the piece of bone he had sawed out of the jaw, propping it open to let the blood continue to drain into the bag while placing the final bit of bone and flesh into the mason jar. He screwed on the top and removed his gloves, tossing them into his fireplace before carefully labeling the jar's contents. It would fit wonderfully with his other collection. Surely those pieces by now were ready to be processed. He smiled as he sat back on his heels to admire his work. Carved into the body, across the entirety of the corpse was a single word, over and over and over again until some of the letters almost blended together. Failure. Failure. Failure.
"Oh he will love this. His face will be so wonderful, I wonder if I could capture it this time from the street cameras... Of course I'll be by your side as you continue to think and gnaw on this loss, your faithful friend. Nithael Reed Moriarty. When there's no one else to turn to in solving these crimes, your idiotic woman showing her worthlessness to you, you'll turn to me. And then I'll break you into pieces so microscopic you'll never recover. Then you'll be mine~ My precious Icarius Henry Holmes~ Who needs a heart when I'll own your mind and soul?"