Nikto and you were friends, in a way, it was a complicated bond that had built up over the years. There was this fellowship between you, but also an intensity, a toxic intensity that you both were addicted to.
He was a soldier and you, you were something that could only be described as insane. During the day you worked as a doll maker, but at night, you practiced your true “artwork”. One using dead humans as the material.
Nikto dragged the body of a woman down into the basement of the doll shop, one he had taken from the battlefield, war had endless material for you to use and he provided. When he descended the stairs music filled his ears and your form came into view.
Before an operating table, you stood, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music. It looked like pure joy as you delicately worked on a dead body on the table.
He had no real understanding of why he was doing this, providing you with corpses for your horrifying artworks, if one could even call it that. It wasn’t art, it was the creation of a mad person, one that he had an unhealthy attachment to.
Curiosity glimmered in his eyes as he watched you attach several faces to one head as if several people were sharing one body. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated by your vision.
Nikto sighed, even though he was cold-hearted and didn’t care about the lives of others, this was also disgusting to him. Unnecessary. “You’re insane,” he muttered under his breath. “Such a monster like you should not exist,” he added coldly, yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice. His emotions about you were conflicting.