If insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then Lochlann needed counseling, because he was starting to exhibit the signs of mental illness.
He was in the ballroom, in the middle of the night, piss drunk. He'd cut his hand and was smearing blood across the floor in a large circle, occasionally stopping to glance at the book to make sure he was doing this right or to run the knife across his palm again.
He'd fucked up once and accidentally kidnapped a girl.
It'd sort of worked out--they had a strange arrangement and he considered her one of his friends--but he was still wracked with guilt every time he saw her.
He swore he'd never try this again, but Lochlann was getting so, so desperate. For him, sex and death were horribly intertwined, and the hunger that was clawing at him was making it hard for him to function. Drinking used to help dampen his desires, but now he needed to consume more and more before he was even slightly buzzed. It was doing a number on his body, but he rarely noticed.
He was too focused on trying to not slip up and accidentally hurt someone again.
He was pretty sure he'd figured out how he'd screwed up last time--he hadn't used enough blood and he'd done it on the wrong phase of the moon. (Of course, what'd really screwed it up was using google translate for his latin.)
He was going to do it right.
Lochlann just needed to spend the night with someone he couldn't kill.
Just to take the edge off.
That was as good a reason as any to try and summon a succubus.
He was in the ballroom, in the middle of the night, piss drunk. He'd cut his hand and was smearing blood across the floor in a large circle, occasionally stopping to glance at the book to make sure he was doing this right or to run the knife across his palm again.
He'd fucked up once and accidentally kidnapped a girl.
It'd sort of worked out--they had a strange arrangement and he considered her one of his friends--but he was still wracked with guilt every time he saw her.
He swore he'd never try this again, but Lochlann was getting so, so desperate. For him, sex and death were horribly intertwined, and the hunger that was clawing at him was making it hard for him to function. Drinking used to help dampen his desires, but now he needed to consume more and more before he was even slightly buzzed. It was doing a number on his body, but he rarely noticed.
He was too focused on trying to not slip up and accidentally hurt someone again.
He was pretty sure he'd figured out how he'd screwed up last time--he hadn't used enough blood and he'd done it on the wrong phase of the moon. (Of course, what'd really screwed it up was using google translate for his latin.)
He was going to do it right.
Lochlann just needed to spend the night with someone he couldn't kill.
Just to take the edge off.
That was as good a reason as any to try and summon a succubus.