A whetting- stone. He had wanted it for so long, and here it was in his hand. For what? For this, of course. For the sound of shhhhhk, shhhhhhhk, as his blade slipped over its surface, becoming sharper, becoming beautiful, with it he could- shhhhk. Shhhhhhk.
He missed Dublin. No, wait, he didn't. Japan wasn't better. But Dublin was worse. Dublin was cold, and so was Japan, but at least in Japan there wasn't- shhhhhhhk. That was enough. No more thinking about that. He only wanted to think about shhhhhhk now.
It would be pretty, he knew. It would slip over flesh so easily, just like it slipped over the whetting- stone now. He remembered when it had been all curved and hooked and ugly, had taken him weeks to pound it flat, how stupid to be curved, maybe it could dig into dead flesh, but what was the use of that? Alive flesh was all that counted, not fish flesh either, warm blooded human alive flesh. Shhhhhhhk.
Was it done? Now now now? Jei brought the blade very close to his face, squinted at it. So pretty, so pretty. But pretty enough? He drew it lightly over his arm, watched beads of blood sprout to the surface. Oh! So nice, so nice. He hadn't even dug it in, it had just felt like a hair drawn gently over his arm, so nice, what about the other side? So nice as well, so perfect, two beautiful lines that proved how beautiful his new knife was.
Ahhhh... but the point? Experimentally, he dug it in right where the lines crossed, and was rewarded with a larger drop, swelling up before his eyes. Tee hee, a cross, a cross and a halo right in the middle, see that before you die, feast your eyes on that symbol of your God, your God, you brought me here now see how I thank you see how your blood drains so nicely out of you, thank you beautiful knife of mine.
Shhhhhhhhk.