3, A Lovely Night for a Murder
Who: Guy Cecil idkmybffluke, Luke Fon Fabre idkmybffguy, and later Fon Master Ion daath_vader
Where: Luke's bedroom
When: Wednesday August 17th into Thursday August 18th (middle of the night/very early in the morning.)
Rating: PG 13 for violence and potential language.
Summary: The Curse Slot that has been slowly infecting Guy's mind is finally brought to light thanks to all of the emotional strain happening in Adstring at the moment. Way to go Lucifer.
Later if one would ask Guy what was going through is mind as he stood over his best friend's bed, sword in hand, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Or rather, he wouldn't want to. It was almost like watching a terrible movie and knowing that it was bad and just wanting it to stop but somewhere inside also willing it to go on even though it is oh so wrong. But for now he barely felt the prickle of the glowing Curse Slot on his arm as he shifted, moving so his blade was pointing down towards the sleeping form of the young man he had learned to care for.
But none of that really came through to him now. All he could see was the flames, the blood soaking into the ground of his home town, bodies everywhere, and just that crest, that man. The one that this sleeping person shared blood with. The family that took absolutely everything away from him. He would have his revenge. Their blood would run like rivers and they would feel every last bit of pain that he did if it was the last thing he did on this earth. And he swung his sword down in hopes of dying the white sheets sanguine.
Where: Luke's bedroom
When: Wednesday August 17th into Thursday August 18th (middle of the night/very early in the morning.)
Rating: PG 13 for violence and potential language.
Summary: The Curse Slot that has been slowly infecting Guy's mind is finally brought to light thanks to all of the emotional strain happening in Adstring at the moment. Way to go Lucifer.
Later if one would ask Guy what was going through is mind as he stood over his best friend's bed, sword in hand, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Or rather, he wouldn't want to. It was almost like watching a terrible movie and knowing that it was bad and just wanting it to stop but somewhere inside also willing it to go on even though it is oh so wrong. But for now he barely felt the prickle of the glowing Curse Slot on his arm as he shifted, moving so his blade was pointing down towards the sleeping form of the young man he had learned to care for.
But none of that really came through to him now. All he could see was the flames, the blood soaking into the ground of his home town, bodies everywhere, and just that crest, that man. The one that this sleeping person shared blood with. The family that took absolutely everything away from him. He would have his revenge. Their blood would run like rivers and they would feel every last bit of pain that he did if it was the last thing he did on this earth. And he swung his sword down in hopes of dying the white sheets sanguine.