jermastrat: Helmless Headcanon! (11)
[personal profile] jermastrat
He'd barely been in this place for longer than a few weeks. Just a few weeks out of an immortal life, something that was comparatively a single drop in an endless ocean, a span of time he could blink and miss, an absolutely insignificant speck in the infinite march of time. And somehow, someway, he was already really sick of it. Gabriel could sit here and question this line of thought perhaps. Spend some time doing some actual introspection for the second time in his entire life.

But why would he need to do that when the problem was technically, obvious? He didn't need to ponder his feelings in regards to this, even as his mind drifted back to the mortal he'd found hiding in the woods during that blasphemous festival. It was obvious why he'd be so opposed to it. Just how many mortals were felled during that hunt? How many that simply lacked what was the same stupid luck Hans had when he'd stumbled across him? It had been within his power to do more, he could have done more. Should have done more.

The fact that death was cheap did nothing to assuage that guilt, it didn't make the pain any less real. ... Gabriel had told himself he wouldn't be introspecting and yet-

And yet here he was, pacing like a caged tiger in his room, picking at a wound not because he felt it could be soothed if he did but out of the sheer familiarity of the pain. Better than thinking about other things, he supposed. A feeling he could only pretend was unknown to him swam in the back of his head, a shrouded leviathan who's shape was far more recognizable than he'd be willing to admit. Suggestions sounded in the mire that was his mind, step out for some air, find someone to speak with, but he knew what the Devil sounded like when he spoke. There was no way those idle, innocent suggestions would end well, either for himself or for any soul he happened to stumble upon.

This would pass, and his thoughts would calm eventually. They always had, they always would.

4 solas

Nov. 10th, 2024 03:20 pm
sarcastass: (this is how you die)
[personal profile] sarcastass
The concept of interdimensional travel and teleportation wasn't at all a new one to Szel. Why would it be, after everything that had already happened, after all? It may as well have been just another Saturday at Velvet Lust at this point, right? Ho hum, just another instance of dimensional displacement, same as it ever was every other week, la dee da.

Except no, it wasn't, and no, he isn't going to act like he isn't interested. At least, not when no one was around to call him out on that. The second he was sure he didn't have an audience, he was invested in this situation, slipping away into more empty areas of the club for a little investigating. It was a task easier said than done; Velvet Lust attracted more than just Azrael's and Camael's attention, the place was almost immediately swarming with curious fae and even the odd intelligent undead and ghost. It almost acted like a magnet for them, something he honestly shouldn't have been all that surprised about but he was going to be cranky in regards to it anyway.

In any case, here he was, hunting for anything even remotely different about the club after it's unexpected jaunt. Midge's eyes darted over every single feature as the two of them moved through the empty hall, the sound of one hell of a party thumping loudly in the rooms adjacent to them. At least everyone else would be preoccupied, he'd just have to tolerate all the goddamn noise.

The demon paused suddenly as a difference in the hall caught his attention like a blazing, bright red beacon; a loosened brick. … Alright, not exactly what he was looking for, actually, and his disappointment was practically palpable as Midge glared at the thing, almost accusing. How dare this shitty little brick get his hopes up for something interesting? Fuck this brick in particular, honestly.

… Not hard enough to do anything destructive about it, but fuck this brick, fuck it right back into the wall where it came from actually. He lifted his cane and pressed it down upon the corner of the loosened brick, carefully nudging it back into place. It was still Tannusen's place here, after all, displaced or not. Szel wasn't in any hurry to break Tannusen's things, not anymore anyway, and he may as well do the absolute bare minimum by making sure it all stayed unbroken. With a disappointed huff, he turned his back on the wall, and was immediately greeted by a door on what he damn well knew had been a blank wall just moments prior. He didn't see the door appear, but then again, wasn't that just how Tannusen's magic worked anyway?

Made as much sense as anything else, and Midge only took the briefest moment to look around before Szel reached out and grabbed the door knob, sticking his head through first before slipping in the rest of the way. Dark in here, where's the light swi-

Where's the door. No, actually no where's the door? He let go of the handle for just a second to fumble for a lightswitch before Midge's eyes adjusted, but in an instant no light was necessary, and no door knob was available. Here he stood on a singular floating slab of earth, surrounded on all sides by the discombobulated rubble of a building? Maybe? Or maybe just a previously very well articulated mountainside, those definitely looked like they might have been stairs once. Maybe.

Well. Shit.

He would never ever, not in a million years, not even before the heat death of the universe, say he was scared. Not under pain of torture nor fear of death would he ever say that awful shit out loud, he'd scarcely even allow himself to admit that. He's not scared, he's perturbed. He is inconvenienced. He is really starting to perhaps maybe get somewhat concerned at the growing noises and increasing feelings of not being entirely alone here maybe he should consider drawing a weapon. Or doing the rough approximation of that.

The awful, wretched shrieks and screams of the less pleasant denizens of this weird liminal world would be ringing out soon enough, any demons lured in by the promise of a fat and delicious meal finding the tables ironically turned the instant they came upon the mutilated monster making his stand right here in the Fade. Tattered and broken wings spread wide, just like his eternally torn and bleeding mouth lined with needle-like teeth, the spider-demon sat now within a whipping frenzy of rusty and blood slicked living steel cables. What better way to soothe rage and fear than with a bit of a binge, after all? Sure nothing here tasted good, but he couldn't think of a more permanent solution to his current problem.

Down the fucking hatch, he'd address everything else once he'd earned a little peace and quiet.

Bad End

Mar. 22nd, 2021 08:37 pm
lerouge: (Corps-à-corps position one)
[personal profile] lerouge
It was... in retrospect... a terrible idea. He should have fled thefirst chance he had, he knew beneath all that bravado and confidence that he had bitten off more than he could chew. He should have never come this close to the Castrum, he should have bolted when he was sighted. So many should haves and could haves and would haves.

All for nothing now. Of course the place would have been well guarded, absolutely brimming with the empire's best soldiers, what with the newly crowned emperor within. He assumed of course that he'd merely be killed. After felling so many a man, fighting until he'd used up every last bit of aether he could spare, until his arm grew too heavy to lift and his footwork clumsy and slow, he only imagined he'd be shot dead right here upon this very field. In all honesty, he'd have preferred it, meeting a death so glorious, to die here and find himself reunited with long lost comrades. Finally absolved of twenty years worth of guilt.

Instead, bruised, exhausted and ragged, he found himself locked away and bound. Arms manacled behind him, unable to rise from his kneeling position on the floor due to the shackles upon his legs, he was left to ponder if perhaps there was a grander end meant for him. Twenty years a thorn in the side of the empire, after all. The last living member of the Crimson Duelists, what else could possibly await him other than death? Public execution seemed likely, one last humiliation before the end.

A... depressing thought, one he didn't consign himself to so quickly in spite of his fatigue. His fingers scraped against the manacles, seeking out any sign of a keyhole to pick as his head cocked towards the door, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. If he could but have a moment, just a few moments... Perhaps he could still yet turn this all around.
popotopirate: (shut yer gob gaius i swear)
[personal profile] popotopirate
The sounds of the enraged, newly arrived paladin's shrieks could probably be heard for miles, frankly. Well, at least he'd tell anyone who asked him, if he lived through this, that they were out of anger. But people didn't usually care too much about the exact emotion behind a scream, he'd found.

It was a long, winding, and hazy story, how he came to be in this neck of the woods on this godsforsaken, miserable, undead infested, tree ridden spit of land, most of which he probably didn't remember nor care to attempt to. All that mattered was that he was here, was not in Ishgard, and was up to his ear tips in undead offal and limbs. By the time anyone might come along, perhaps attracted by the sounds of the Lalafell's incensed cries, it'd be clear that he, or at least someone anyway, had been a very busy, very violent little bee.

Not all that blood was his, not even a majority of it in fact, who knew dead men still bled so much? He'd managed to scramble back to an old, gray willow, panting and gasping for air as the once noisy and... perhaps lively wasn't the right word, highly populated clearing finally lay still. The blade of his mythrilite Katzbalger, the sword nearly the same size he was, was stained a rusty, brackish red, and reeked of rotten flesh just about as much as the rest of him. If he lived through this, he'd need a fucking bath, numb fingers fumbling through his things for a single flask of elixer. Had he none? Surely he had one left?

Ye Gods, he wasn't going to die in this forest, he'd make it through out of pure goddamn spite if he could, uttering slurred curses over a tongue that felt like it was growing thicker and clumsier by the second.
sarcastass: (dull)
[personal profile] sarcastass
There's a cat outside. Well... No there's two cats outside. Normally not such an unsettling sight, even if both of them were comfortably sitting side by side, just barely beyond the fence before the house.

It was the appearance of them that might be unsettling.

Pitch black the both of them, but while one kept it's massive, reddish golden eyes locked dead upon the door to the house, the other... didn't seem to have eyes at all. A pitch black silhouette of a cat, like someone managed to conjure a shadow into a full three dimensions, the only motion being an occasional, sharp flick of its long, thin tail.

Right outside Alley's house, just right there. Really it was just a matter of time, heaven knew how the pair had sussed her out so quickly, but it was still inevitable.

At the very least, he wasn't just wafting in as a fucking spider anymore, where's his award for being a nice guy?
inquisitor_lavellan: you haters ain’t shit to me (all my friends are heathens)
[personal profile] inquisitor_lavellan
"Noooope."

That was Alleyana, of course, having just stepped into an elevator with Lotor. She'd been mentally braced for a floating box with solid walls, but this place had stepped the bullshit up a whole other level that she hadn't known was an option.

The doors slid shut behind her as Alley just stared in horror at the amount of glass this particular box was made of. When the transparent floor lurched as the elevator began to move upward, she did a heel-turn and leaned her forehead against the closed doors; the only opaque part of the box. Gauntlets raised to either side of her face against the doors, trying to block herself in against something 'solid'.

"Nope nope nope. This is bullshit--! Masal din'an! How high up does this go?!"
magus_majere: (shh)
[personal profile] magus_majere
"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.

Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.

"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.

Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"

"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."

That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"

"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."

Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.

And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.
thornmage: (okay this one is different)
[personal profile] thornmage
He'd wandered, for how long nor how far he did not know. Far from the green fields of Britain, from the snows of the Netherlands. Past the mountains, across deserts, the shadow wandered, aimless. He did his best, of course, to avoid meeting anyone. While it might have been safer to travel in a more... permissible shape, the glamour would only work to a certain point.

Heaven only knew when a child might spot him and give it all away.

Onwards, across rivers and lakes, through forests, and then deeper into those yet still, eating whatever slow, simple beast he happened to run into. There'd be more than a few farms near the area that would be missing pets and livestock, no doubt, and more than a few frantic stories of a hulking, shadowy beast with glowing red eyes making off with squealing pigs and bleating goats.

Upwards now though, as if heedless of the mountain in his way. It was only when the scent of humans reached his nose that he finally faltered again, pausing just short of the line of trees that opened to... what looked to be some sort of temple.

Ah... no, he wasn't interested in running into any holy men, he'd dealt with that before. Hunger though, as ever, chewed at his innards, and he stalked just behind the treeline, hoping to spot something edible to steal.

RIP

Dec. 15th, 2018 01:16 am
trickking: (Yeah it's fanart shoot me)
[personal profile] trickking
It'd all gone by in a blur, a mash of events that he could not clearly remember. Even his death... had he died...? Even his death was something he'd not be able to dredge up, as if something actively rose to block the memory each time.

How he'd arrived here, how he'd gotten from that bus stop to this place now, none of it he could recall. Like an animal, he'd followed mere instincts, only aware of one thing: he didn't want to be seen right now. He didn't wish to speak to anyone, see anyone.

He'd died alone, he'd be alone. He needed to be alone, perhaps forever, really. He wished only to not feel anything, not be anything, surely that was what death would be and yet... Here he was.

Being.

Regardless of his mental state, it wasn't as if he was being clumsy about staying hidden. In the end, brilliance was brilliance, it'd take a keen eye and a genuine interest in what the hell was going on in those woods for someone to actually find him. Sequestered as far back as he could manage, back, back towards the caves. Out of sight, out of mind.
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