Beast. An animal juxtaposed to a human. To be human is to be
humane, rational, and capable of compassion.
A beast, on the contrary, is mindless and instinctive: it will kill pointlessly. But, in
truth, it seeks prey only out of hunger, or fear.
To do any more would waste its energy uselessly. A rational decision.
On the contrary, humanity commits seneseless acts of violence, driven by nothing more
than the boredom of the mind.
The powerless, scapegoats for the failures of the powerful.
Contradictory as the world is, where there is compassion, therein lies the infinite
humane potential for malice.
No more than a foul thing sprouted from the Wildmother's entrails, Maehriel's twisted
existence begs this very question.
At the end of the day, would you rather accompany a wild beast, who attacks only in
necessity, or your fellow human, who kills for no more than sport?
I bite. For as long as it can remember, its maw has run dry. In humanity's refuse,
it has made its treasure,
knowing to accept all which may allow it to survive. Such is the law of this
domesticated world: the individual above all.
To kill, or be killed. To will an ugly struggle, or die like an abandoned dog.
Born hanged into this jilted existence, if its hunger will not sated in compassion, then
it shall be in their demise.
There is no release, no respite, no peace. No place for a wretch like me.
NAME. Maehriel Farkasova. CODENAME. Subject 1705-1509. AGE. It does not know. Estimated at 26 to 28-years-old. HEIGHT. 6'5" ft/195 cm. WEIGHT. 122 kg/269 lbs. SKIN TONE. Dark brown. ACCESSORIES. Pierced tongue, ears, nipples. MARKINGS. Nettle tattoo on neck. DESCRIPTION. Its voice is deep and rumbling. Its physique is broad and sinewy,
far above human average.
It does not appear to care much for societal customs, but appears capable of vanity, in
its
own perspective.
When its deep, stormy grey eyes scan over your figure, and its lips contort into a
sickening, sharp grin, you will know to flee.
