Executions [RP log] [Archive: Jan 17, 2011]
[Mindtrips, wheeee!]
It's silent - and bright. Long corridors stretch on and on and on - they look like a poorly rendered depiction of what Wil has witnessed within Moira's mindscapes, but these corridors are twisted. Bent. Curving awkwardly. Something covers the walls, something white - like fresh snow. Uneven, moving, but the woman's eyes can't focus on them for too long, growing blurry.
She frowns slightly, taking a moment to orient herself. She looks down, taking stock of anything she might have entered Wil's mindscape with. Padding softly down the hallway, she reaches towards the snow like substance gingerly, squinting her eyes in frustration. "... Hmn."
She will be as she was there for the very first time - robes, staff, wand. The substance shifts and moves away from the woman's touch. A ripple goes down, then a wave, slowly growing and resonating - soon, Moira's ears will be filled with a billion quiet whispers, shuffling. The wave dissipates - and numerous wings take off from the walls and disappear down the corridor. There - a scream. One, simple scream, then growling. Silence. The walls - now bare of the butterflies - are dark and looming, made of solid and molding stone.
Auspice falls to her knees, clutching at her ears as the whispers crash about her. She protects her head out of reflex. She looks up at the sound of the scream, just in time to see the butterflies flitter down the corridor. Slowly, she stands with aid of her staff. Trailing one hand along the wall, and taking note of any changes in temperature or moisture, she makes her way towards the source of the noise.
It's damp. The air is thick as molasses. If she looked down at the ground, she would notice it becoming increasingly softer, some sort of liquid gathering at her feet. At the end of the corridor, she would approach an opening - it's a field. Dry, yellow, burnt and broken grass stretches as far as the eyes can see. There is a bent, dead tree up ahead - just a hundred steps or so - and there is a figure leaning against it. It's still and unrecognizable.
Her pace slows as the air becomes thicker - she reaches into her sleeve automatically for a vial, but of course, finds none. She brings her fingers up to her nose to see if the moisture was anything more than dew. She dips the butt of her staff into the liquid pooling at her feet as well. Inverting the staff, she would take a look at its end to see what it was as she made her way towards the figure. "Hello?"
The moisture gathering at the walls is simply water - however, that is not true for the pools of dark red liquid underneath her feet. Blood and ichor - mucous and thick, but dripping. It's warmer than the air around it. The figure remains still and silent.
She wrinkles her nose, then dabs a fingertip against it. Without her alchemical playset, she didn't have many options. She brought it gingerly to the tip of her tongue, in attempt to taste what sort of blood it was. She continues to make her way towards the figure. "... H... hello?" She'd broach him carefully, padding around in a wide circle if its back was turned so as not to appear aggressive.
The blood is human, if she could detect as much, fresh. The figure is familiar - it is Wil. Wil's body, to be precise - the pipe in his hand would identify it as the bard. As she circles him (he did, in fact, have his back turned), she would slowly understand why he remained so still. His eyes were open, still glistening like they used to when he chuckled and smiled. His lower jaw was not there. A thick, vertical slash split it in half, tearing his neck open in the process. His head was positioned to lean against the tree. So, this would not be noticeable from the back. He was pale, cold - dead. The blood form the corridor, strangely, appeared only now - it trailed all the way to the silent bard.
She sucks in a quick breath as she sees the scene of the grisly murder. She reaches into her sleeve, fingering the butt of her wand as she approached cautiously. "... nngh." Her efforts last time were for naught, then. Looking about the plain for any other intruders as she approaches, she would make a quick search of the bard's belongings once she determined the coast was clear.
She wouldn't see any intruders - that is, of course, granted that she did not look -up- at the tree. Something shifts and shuffles in the thick and broken branches, crawling upwards and disappearing into the sky. A faint cackling is heard.
The bard's satchel is beside him. It is soaked through with the man's own blood and it contains a few things - a box full of suspicious-smelling tobacco, a notebook with blank pages, a set of knives and a small flute.
She hadn't - she'd probably have been rifling through the dead bard's clothes as she heard the sound. Straightening immediately, she looks upwards. "Hello? You need not hide - it was you who wanted me here, after all. I am honoring our agreement." She slips the notebook into her sleeve.
The bard has nothing on him, nothing in his pockets - except a small locket on his neck. Upon opening it, Auspice would discover a portrait of a woman - but her face was scratched out. All she could see is a mass of light brown locks. A distant cackling is heard once again, then a whisper. "Khlimbb ahpp."
Auspice looks down at the locket, then slips it into her pocket quickly. "I... nngh. You are certainly not making this easy for me." She places the staff against the tree, then looks about for any obvious hand holds. "Why did you kill him?"
A flash of light - a long, dark limb darts form the mess of tangled branches and attempts to grab at the woman's collar and pull her upwards.
She makes a strangled sound as she is pulled upward, kicking her legs out in attempt to gain her own foothold - just in case. Her hands tug at the collar of her robe to avoid being strangled in it.
As this happens, since she did, in fact, allow herself to be grabbed and pulled, the grassy plain shifts, blurs, disappearing. She wouldn't feel the branches or see them, though they definitely pass her by. This lasts for a few long moments - like she was being pulled out of a deep well. The limb releases her and throws her down, unceremoniously. The familiar stone-clad room with a single chair in the middle appears. There is a male figure in this chair. Something - something that pulled her in on the first place - lurks behind.
Auspice catches herself on all fours, taking the brunt of the fall on her elbows. She whips her head quickly about, trying to locate where she had entered this room and possible routes of escape. She remains on the ground though - without aid of her staff, it would be a waste of precious energy trying to stand. She doesn't speak, glowering up at the seated figure.
The figure lets out a quiet moan. A dark shape darts towards it, reaching out and pulling. Something snaps. Wet, sickening sounds. Moira would note a circular hole to her right, it is dark, deep - she can't see the bottom. The figure on the chair hisses in agony. A pair of dimly glowing yellow eyes dart up towards the woman and turn into thin slits.
She stands up quickly, sucking in a pained breath and stumbling - barely catching herself before she falls back onto her palms. "What the fel are you doing?" She hobble crawls towards the seated figure, "Stop it. Why are you doing this?"
The dead, decayed face stretches into a smile. A pair of large and tapered hands curl around the head of the man on the chair, and the executioner puts his chin on top of the man's head. "Ahhhhhtention."
He twists the head around. A loud, nauseous crack - and now she can see the man on the chair clearly. Dark hair, brown eyes, it appears to be the Wil she first met, one from ages ago. The scribe.
Auspice would continue her approach until she was at the foot of the chair. "Why? You've been content enough stay within the sha - " She sucks in a quick break, whipping out her wand this time. "You can't do this. You -helped- me. They are a part of you as you are a part of them."
The thing lets out an odd, loud sound, something faintly resembling a chuckle. He lets go of the head which just hands down onto the man's chest, lifeless. the body's abdomen is ripped open and held up by an series of hooks and odd contractions. Things dart in and out of the exposed innards. The executioner turns, leaning over. He's huge, hulking - spine permanently bent. "Bechausse he nehhhrded themmm ghone."
Auspice looks over the desiccated corpse - morbid curiosity taking a hold of her. She peers inside the open chest cavity, looking for any insects she might recognize - keeping the executioner in the corner of her eye all the while. "He needed them gone? Why."
A centipede-heart pump. A few odd, coiling worms burying their way through the man's lungs, the ribs are bent and broken - and mended together with something alive and sticking. The executioner lets out a quiet hiss. "Hhhe is... chhhhanghing. Aaaahnd eyhe ahkm the ohne thahhhhrt dhoes the dhhirty wohrk. Aaaaalhways. Aaaaaaah thought it whold be ffffhrkhaair for yhouuu to skheee it."
The thing pulls its rotting lips back, as if attempting to smile. "Thhhirss is what he dhrkhhhdid for theeeern yeaaahrs."
Auspice glances over her shoulder at the hulking man. "... Stay where you are." She prods at whatever was holding the ribs together with her wand. "This may have been in his past, but you are correct about one thing. He is changing." She straightens. "I suppose the biggest question would be, then - who executes the executioner? All these personas, dead - and you, the most repressed, still alive."
The thing's eyes dim. He pulls his lips backwards and lets out a loud, ear-splitting growl. The tendons on his neck tighten to the point of snapping, pieces of blight and fresh blood flying out from the dark, gaping mouth. His lips slowly close, the growl turning to a hiss, and then cackling. He cracks his neck side to side - a disturbingly familiar gesture - and inquires. "Whhhould thaaakhrt be yhouu?"
Auspice looks up from the corpse, then moves to place it as a barrier between herself and the executioner - in case he decided to take the initiative. The back of the chair also helped her stand with minimal effort. "I am not certain. I was hoping you would have more of an idea, since you claim he was the one who wanted them dead. What does he want with you?"
The executioner's lips part and a long, dark shape runs across the remains of his lips. "HHhhrkhe wahhnts me ghhrone - bhhut he dkhooes nohrt undkherssstand thahhhrt I am imphhortant to khim. Skho I theach him... lkhessons." He chuckles, taking a step forward. "I am unkhable to khhhurt you - only khee cahrn. Though I charnn be... khonvinsing. Dhhhid you khsee hkris fiankhssce shkhortly affkhter...?"
Auspice stands her ground as he steps forward, gripping the back of the chair tightly. She straightens and looks down to him. "These lessons need to stop. Whatever worth you are to him - I am the one that you need to convince right now." She shakes her head slowly. "What of her?"
The yellow orbs dim. "Ahhhkh- hkhhhe broke kherr. Thakkhrt was a valid lkhesssorn - hhhhkhe was pkhrone to ikhhht withoukhhht my involvment. Ayheee made ssssure khee nevekhrr doekhss it aghhain. Fkheearrr is a ghreakht instrrumkhent."
She shakes her head slowly. "I don't understand - how were -you- able to stop him from doing it again? And if you did, why ... do all this?"
Cackling. "Ahhhi ghave him a lihhtle pukhshh. Hhhkhe isss a... makhhhn of moralkhsss. Uphhhhon realisssing whkhat he has dokhnee, he wakhhhs too afkhraid to rephhheat it. I phhhrotekhted him. I am wkhhhat kheepsss him ghowinghhh wkhennn he issss overkhhhlemed. I am khisss limikht. Ssssstrengthhh. Aghhhression. I shhhapkhe him, I rkhhhaise hhhim. Bhhhut I lhike a lihhhtle... fkhun." A smile.
Auspice frowns, glancing to the side. "I... see." She slips her wand back into her sleeve, but keeps her fingers on it just in case. "I would ... hesitate to remove such an asset from the picture -if you were speaking the truth. Have you finished... 'having your fun', yet? I still don't quite understand why you needed me here, outside the promise. If, there was a reason beyond that."
He stretches out a hand, fanning the long, tapered fingers to mimic the woman's form. "Thhhisss is hkhow I ghhhhot his attthhhension. Khhhhhilling thhhhhkhem was necessskharry, but I khhhhhad... opkhtions. I dhhhhessssided to infkhlikhhht pain - and this whhhhhkhorked. Hhhhhhe rekhmemmbered the..." Another gesture. "Phhhromisssskhes. Ykhesss. Wkhhhy dhhhhid you pkhromissse? Ahhhhhye wakhsss... alkhone."
"I... promised because I was alone." She looks about the bleak mindscape, feeling the texture of the wood against her thumb. "I was lost in a place where I had no right to be." She looks up to the hulking man. "More importantly, I promised because I thought you were part of him." She inclines her head towards the dead scribe. "Like he was. I thought you were all a necessary part of him."
The executioner smiles, taking yet another step forwards. He's only a few feet away from the woman now. "Thhhhkhey wkhhhhere. Nhot..." He cocks his head. "Ahhhnymkhore. Itkhhhhs just you, ankhhhhd-" He parts the decaying lips. "Mkhhhhe. Indhhhhulge mkhhhhe... Wkhhhhat should we khhhdo withhh the mhhhan? Thhhhe one whose hhhead you skhhhem to lhhhike so much." Chuckling - like wet gurgling.
Auspice stands her ground, her expression placid. If the executioner was attentive though, he'd notice a slight nervous tensing in her forearms as she prepared for combat. "I do not wish to do anything. Not here. Not without his consent." She looks up at the executioner, silent for a few moments. "I would like you to ... stop -your- indulgences, though."
He leans forward, eyes narrowed. "Okhhhr what? If ykhhho hurrrt me you khhhurrrt him. Ahhhhnd, khhhonsiderrringhhh that I am thhhe lashhht ohhhne, it mighhht jhhhhust breakhh him. Ahhhh donhhht thinkhhh you wakhhhhhnt that." Faint chuckling. "Ahhhh am ssssimply khhhhurious - and ahhhlone. Ahhhh wahhhnted adhhhvice." He licks his lips again, something dark dripping down its chin. "Whhhere shhhhkhould I ghhho with the man?"
Auspice frowns. "I am not going to hurt you. If I did, I would have done so long ago." She makes an effort to relax. "You wanted to ask me for advice?" She purses her lips slightly, looking down to the desiccated scribe's corpse. "Which man are you talking about? What ... 'go' are you speaking of? Growth? A place?"
The executioner shakes his head. "Thhhekhre chhhan only be ohhhne mahhhn in khwessstion. Hhhhkhhhe is chhhahnginghhh - fassssst. I khhhhan hardly khhhep up, ahhhnd the rehhhcent inhhhcident withhhhh thkhhhe throublessome ghhhost phhhroves mkhhe rkhhhight. Ahhhth thisss pkhoint you chhhan ssssee ahhhnd khnow hkrim bhetterrr thhan mhkhee. I mkhhhight bhhhe somethhhhingkh hhe hhhasss no deskhhhhire to bhhhe - buhhht I am khhhere mostly to phhhrotect." He lowers his head in a sort of a bow.
"I... see." She looks to the side. "You, as his unconscious, are appealing to /me/ for aid in how to run his life?" She shakes her head, then turns to the side. "I'm sorry. I can only see this in one way - my hands are tied. Anything I tell you may irrevocably change the man I've come to love. I ... cannot exact this sort of control over him. I haven't even the fraction of a right."
The faintly glowing eyes bright up and look up at the woman. "....lkhhhove?" He takes a step back, shaking his head. "Imphhhosible, I- thhhisss... khhhaaaar!" Cackling - loud, maddening cackling. "Bhhhhrilliankht. Thathhhsss why- thhhhe idiothh." He shakes his head once again. "...fkhhhine thhhen." His eyes lock on the woman. "Thhhen I will be thhhe one ghhhiving you advisssse. Whhhould you lhhhike thhhhat?"
Auspice draws her lips into a thin line at his cackling, the looks down. She felt ridiculous telling him such a thing - it must have slipped out in the moment. At length, she looks back up to meet the glowing orbs that were the man's eyes. "I'm listening, but you will not catch me making any hasty promises, this time?"
The executioner smiles. He rolls his shoulders, long limbs darting to his back and pulling out a pair of rusted axes. "I whhhon't. I khhhhave only ohhhhne phhhiesssse of adhhhvice if 'lkkkkrove' isss whhhat bkhhhrought you khhhere." He cracks his neck, taking a step back, another - and now there is a distance of at least twenty feet separating the two. Lips part, jaws snap open, and the decaying man barks out, slowly turning it into a loud howl. "RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhUUUUUUUUUUUUN."
Auspice 's grip on the chair tightens as the man draws his axes. She shifts her weight to her right foot, ready to twist her body about in one quick motion and spill the chair's contents in the hulking executioner's path. However, the sudden gulf created between the pair renders the tactic useless. She draws her wand, casting her gaze quickly about the room for any distinguishing features that may aid her. For now, she stands her ground - she's not going to be able to outrun him, staff or no. "Why? I want to know /why/." Her muscles are tense, ready to throw her from harm's way.
She only gets a loud roar in response. The executioner starts to advance, slowly, swaying side to side as he walks. "Bekhausssse he khhhhurrrtsss." Step. "Thhhossse." Step. "Thhhahhht." Step-step. "Hkhhhe." Step. "Lhhhhovess." Step-step. Stop. The executioner is breathing heavily. He's shaking - but unmoving otherwise.
Auspice remains standing, though ready to throw the chair in his path if he decided to endanger her. "Ridiculous. I know about his history - but I would never allow myself to suffer at either his hands, nor yours." She narrows her eyes slightly. "Whatever your concept of 'love' is, I assure you that mine is not so foolish."
Thin, webbed lips part to reveal a smile. He stretches out his arms to either side - and drops them, axes falling with a loud 'clank'. "Khhhhleverrrr ghhhhhirl." A nod. The executioner cups his chin and cocks his head to the side. "Hhhhkhhhe isss... in ghhhoood handsss afkhhhterrr akhhhl. A wasssskhn't sssssure lahhhhssst thhhime ykhhhew inthhhruded. Ykhhhhew arrre differrenhhht. Whhhell dhhhkrone." Cackling.
Auspice winces slightly, grimacing at his harsh cackle. "Then you've misjudged me. I've not changed at all - my independence comes first, and it always will - despite my crippled exterior." Her grip on the chair back is as tense as ever - she wasn't to let her guard down in front of him. "Is that all you wanted to see, then?"
Another nod. "Ikhhht mahhhy not ssssekhm imphhortankht to yhhhou - bhhhut it isss. Ihhhhndephhendensssse. Somethinghhh I khhhan rehhhspekhhhht." Another bow. "Bhhhhut you've outhhhlivhhed your whhhelcome." He points to the gaping hole on the floor.
"Ahhhhh- dhhhho thhhry to asssskhhh him whhhhat rkhhheally khhhappened to hissss younghhhhest sssson."
Auspice makes her way towards the hole, teetering at its edge to peer down - trying to see what lay at its terminus. She glances back over her shoulder suspiciously. "Why? Is this something you will hold me to?"
He shakes his head. "I dhhhonkhht wahhhnt anyone hhhherrre anymhhhore, akhhhnd I will bhhhe buildhhhing up the dekhhhfences. Thhhat is thhhough- ssssomethhhingh yhhhhou mighhhht find khhhurioussss."
She would not be able to see anything as far as the hole went - just branches, more branches, spiraling downwards - seemingly, endless.
Auspice looks back down towards the hole. "I'll ... hold -you- to that." With that, she sucks in a quick breath, closes her eyes, and hurls herself down into it.
She wouldn't see it - but the executioner, back in the room, stretches out a hand and catches a small, quivering butterfly into it. His hand curls and crushes the insect. Moira, in turn, would feel her head spinning - the fall slowed down and transitioning, softly, to pushing her out of the man's consciousness.
It's silent - and bright. Long corridors stretch on and on and on - they look like a poorly rendered depiction of what Wil has witnessed within Moira's mindscapes, but these corridors are twisted. Bent. Curving awkwardly. Something covers the walls, something white - like fresh snow. Uneven, moving, but the woman's eyes can't focus on them for too long, growing blurry.
She frowns slightly, taking a moment to orient herself. She looks down, taking stock of anything she might have entered Wil's mindscape with. Padding softly down the hallway, she reaches towards the snow like substance gingerly, squinting her eyes in frustration. "... Hmn."
She will be as she was there for the very first time - robes, staff, wand. The substance shifts and moves away from the woman's touch. A ripple goes down, then a wave, slowly growing and resonating - soon, Moira's ears will be filled with a billion quiet whispers, shuffling. The wave dissipates - and numerous wings take off from the walls and disappear down the corridor. There - a scream. One, simple scream, then growling. Silence. The walls - now bare of the butterflies - are dark and looming, made of solid and molding stone.
Auspice falls to her knees, clutching at her ears as the whispers crash about her. She protects her head out of reflex. She looks up at the sound of the scream, just in time to see the butterflies flitter down the corridor. Slowly, she stands with aid of her staff. Trailing one hand along the wall, and taking note of any changes in temperature or moisture, she makes her way towards the source of the noise.
It's damp. The air is thick as molasses. If she looked down at the ground, she would notice it becoming increasingly softer, some sort of liquid gathering at her feet. At the end of the corridor, she would approach an opening - it's a field. Dry, yellow, burnt and broken grass stretches as far as the eyes can see. There is a bent, dead tree up ahead - just a hundred steps or so - and there is a figure leaning against it. It's still and unrecognizable.
Her pace slows as the air becomes thicker - she reaches into her sleeve automatically for a vial, but of course, finds none. She brings her fingers up to her nose to see if the moisture was anything more than dew. She dips the butt of her staff into the liquid pooling at her feet as well. Inverting the staff, she would take a look at its end to see what it was as she made her way towards the figure. "Hello?"
The moisture gathering at the walls is simply water - however, that is not true for the pools of dark red liquid underneath her feet. Blood and ichor - mucous and thick, but dripping. It's warmer than the air around it. The figure remains still and silent.
She wrinkles her nose, then dabs a fingertip against it. Without her alchemical playset, she didn't have many options. She brought it gingerly to the tip of her tongue, in attempt to taste what sort of blood it was. She continues to make her way towards the figure. "... H... hello?" She'd broach him carefully, padding around in a wide circle if its back was turned so as not to appear aggressive.
The blood is human, if she could detect as much, fresh. The figure is familiar - it is Wil. Wil's body, to be precise - the pipe in his hand would identify it as the bard. As she circles him (he did, in fact, have his back turned), she would slowly understand why he remained so still. His eyes were open, still glistening like they used to when he chuckled and smiled. His lower jaw was not there. A thick, vertical slash split it in half, tearing his neck open in the process. His head was positioned to lean against the tree. So, this would not be noticeable from the back. He was pale, cold - dead. The blood form the corridor, strangely, appeared only now - it trailed all the way to the silent bard.
She sucks in a quick breath as she sees the scene of the grisly murder. She reaches into her sleeve, fingering the butt of her wand as she approached cautiously. "... nngh." Her efforts last time were for naught, then. Looking about the plain for any other intruders as she approaches, she would make a quick search of the bard's belongings once she determined the coast was clear.
She wouldn't see any intruders - that is, of course, granted that she did not look -up- at the tree. Something shifts and shuffles in the thick and broken branches, crawling upwards and disappearing into the sky. A faint cackling is heard.
The bard's satchel is beside him. It is soaked through with the man's own blood and it contains a few things - a box full of suspicious-smelling tobacco, a notebook with blank pages, a set of knives and a small flute.
She hadn't - she'd probably have been rifling through the dead bard's clothes as she heard the sound. Straightening immediately, she looks upwards. "Hello? You need not hide - it was you who wanted me here, after all. I am honoring our agreement." She slips the notebook into her sleeve.
The bard has nothing on him, nothing in his pockets - except a small locket on his neck. Upon opening it, Auspice would discover a portrait of a woman - but her face was scratched out. All she could see is a mass of light brown locks. A distant cackling is heard once again, then a whisper. "Khlimbb ahpp."
Auspice looks down at the locket, then slips it into her pocket quickly. "I... nngh. You are certainly not making this easy for me." She places the staff against the tree, then looks about for any obvious hand holds. "Why did you kill him?"
A flash of light - a long, dark limb darts form the mess of tangled branches and attempts to grab at the woman's collar and pull her upwards.
She makes a strangled sound as she is pulled upward, kicking her legs out in attempt to gain her own foothold - just in case. Her hands tug at the collar of her robe to avoid being strangled in it.
As this happens, since she did, in fact, allow herself to be grabbed and pulled, the grassy plain shifts, blurs, disappearing. She wouldn't feel the branches or see them, though they definitely pass her by. This lasts for a few long moments - like she was being pulled out of a deep well. The limb releases her and throws her down, unceremoniously. The familiar stone-clad room with a single chair in the middle appears. There is a male figure in this chair. Something - something that pulled her in on the first place - lurks behind.
Auspice catches herself on all fours, taking the brunt of the fall on her elbows. She whips her head quickly about, trying to locate where she had entered this room and possible routes of escape. She remains on the ground though - without aid of her staff, it would be a waste of precious energy trying to stand. She doesn't speak, glowering up at the seated figure.
The figure lets out a quiet moan. A dark shape darts towards it, reaching out and pulling. Something snaps. Wet, sickening sounds. Moira would note a circular hole to her right, it is dark, deep - she can't see the bottom. The figure on the chair hisses in agony. A pair of dimly glowing yellow eyes dart up towards the woman and turn into thin slits.
She stands up quickly, sucking in a pained breath and stumbling - barely catching herself before she falls back onto her palms. "What the fel are you doing?" She hobble crawls towards the seated figure, "Stop it. Why are you doing this?"
The dead, decayed face stretches into a smile. A pair of large and tapered hands curl around the head of the man on the chair, and the executioner puts his chin on top of the man's head. "Ahhhhhtention."
He twists the head around. A loud, nauseous crack - and now she can see the man on the chair clearly. Dark hair, brown eyes, it appears to be the Wil she first met, one from ages ago. The scribe.
Auspice would continue her approach until she was at the foot of the chair. "Why? You've been content enough stay within the sha - " She sucks in a quick break, whipping out her wand this time. "You can't do this. You -helped- me. They are a part of you as you are a part of them."
The thing lets out an odd, loud sound, something faintly resembling a chuckle. He lets go of the head which just hands down onto the man's chest, lifeless. the body's abdomen is ripped open and held up by an series of hooks and odd contractions. Things dart in and out of the exposed innards. The executioner turns, leaning over. He's huge, hulking - spine permanently bent. "Bechausse he nehhhrded themmm ghone."
Auspice looks over the desiccated corpse - morbid curiosity taking a hold of her. She peers inside the open chest cavity, looking for any insects she might recognize - keeping the executioner in the corner of her eye all the while. "He needed them gone? Why."
A centipede-heart pump. A few odd, coiling worms burying their way through the man's lungs, the ribs are bent and broken - and mended together with something alive and sticking. The executioner lets out a quiet hiss. "Hhhe is... chhhhanghing. Aaaahnd eyhe ahkm the ohne thahhhhrt dhoes the dhhirty wohrk. Aaaaalhways. Aaaaaaah thought it whold be ffffhrkhaair for yhouuu to skheee it."
The thing pulls its rotting lips back, as if attempting to smile. "Thhhirss is what he dhrkhhhdid for theeeern yeaaahrs."
Auspice glances over her shoulder at the hulking man. "... Stay where you are." She prods at whatever was holding the ribs together with her wand. "This may have been in his past, but you are correct about one thing. He is changing." She straightens. "I suppose the biggest question would be, then - who executes the executioner? All these personas, dead - and you, the most repressed, still alive."
The thing's eyes dim. He pulls his lips backwards and lets out a loud, ear-splitting growl. The tendons on his neck tighten to the point of snapping, pieces of blight and fresh blood flying out from the dark, gaping mouth. His lips slowly close, the growl turning to a hiss, and then cackling. He cracks his neck side to side - a disturbingly familiar gesture - and inquires. "Whhhould thaaakhrt be yhouu?"
Auspice looks up from the corpse, then moves to place it as a barrier between herself and the executioner - in case he decided to take the initiative. The back of the chair also helped her stand with minimal effort. "I am not certain. I was hoping you would have more of an idea, since you claim he was the one who wanted them dead. What does he want with you?"
The executioner's lips part and a long, dark shape runs across the remains of his lips. "HHhhrkhe wahhnts me ghhrone - bhhut he dkhooes nohrt undkherssstand thahhhrt I am imphhortant to khim. Skho I theach him... lkhessons." He chuckles, taking a step forward. "I am unkhable to khhhurt you - only khee cahrn. Though I charnn be... khonvinsing. Dhhhid you khsee hkris fiankhssce shkhortly affkhter...?"
Auspice stands her ground as he steps forward, gripping the back of the chair tightly. She straightens and looks down to him. "These lessons need to stop. Whatever worth you are to him - I am the one that you need to convince right now." She shakes her head slowly. "What of her?"
The yellow orbs dim. "Ahhhkh- hkhhhe broke kherr. Thakkhrt was a valid lkhesssorn - hhhhkhe was pkhrone to ikhhht withoukhhht my involvment. Ayheee made ssssure khee nevekhrr doekhss it aghhain. Fkheearrr is a ghreakht instrrumkhent."
She shakes her head slowly. "I don't understand - how were -you- able to stop him from doing it again? And if you did, why ... do all this?"
Cackling. "Ahhhi ghave him a lihhtle pukhshh. Hhhkhe isss a... makhhhn of moralkhsss. Uphhhhon realisssing whkhat he has dokhnee, he wakhhhs too afkhraid to rephhheat it. I phhhrotekhted him. I am wkhhhat kheepsss him ghowinghhh wkhennn he issss overkhhhlemed. I am khisss limikht. Ssssstrengthhh. Aghhhression. I shhhapkhe him, I rkhhhaise hhhim. Bhhhut I lhike a lihhhtle... fkhun." A smile.
Auspice frowns, glancing to the side. "I... see." She slips her wand back into her sleeve, but keeps her fingers on it just in case. "I would ... hesitate to remove such an asset from the picture -if you were speaking the truth. Have you finished... 'having your fun', yet? I still don't quite understand why you needed me here, outside the promise. If, there was a reason beyond that."
He stretches out a hand, fanning the long, tapered fingers to mimic the woman's form. "Thhhisss is hkhow I ghhhhot his attthhhension. Khhhhhilling thhhhhkhem was necessskharry, but I khhhhhad... opkhtions. I dhhhhessssided to infkhlikhhht pain - and this whhhhhkhorked. Hhhhhhe rekhmemmbered the..." Another gesture. "Phhhromisssskhes. Ykhesss. Wkhhhy dhhhhid you pkhromissse? Ahhhhhye wakhsss... alkhone."
"I... promised because I was alone." She looks about the bleak mindscape, feeling the texture of the wood against her thumb. "I was lost in a place where I had no right to be." She looks up to the hulking man. "More importantly, I promised because I thought you were part of him." She inclines her head towards the dead scribe. "Like he was. I thought you were all a necessary part of him."
The executioner smiles, taking yet another step forwards. He's only a few feet away from the woman now. "Thhhhkhey wkhhhhere. Nhot..." He cocks his head. "Ahhhnymkhore. Itkhhhhs just you, ankhhhhd-" He parts the decaying lips. "Mkhhhhe. Indhhhhulge mkhhhhe... Wkhhhhat should we khhhdo withhh the mhhhan? Thhhhe one whose hhhead you skhhhem to lhhhike so much." Chuckling - like wet gurgling.
Auspice stands her ground, her expression placid. If the executioner was attentive though, he'd notice a slight nervous tensing in her forearms as she prepared for combat. "I do not wish to do anything. Not here. Not without his consent." She looks up at the executioner, silent for a few moments. "I would like you to ... stop -your- indulgences, though."
He leans forward, eyes narrowed. "Okhhhr what? If ykhhho hurrrt me you khhhurrrt him. Ahhhhnd, khhhonsiderrringhhh that I am thhhe lashhht ohhhne, it mighhht jhhhhust breakhh him. Ahhhh donhhht thinkhhh you wakhhhhhnt that." Faint chuckling. "Ahhhh am ssssimply khhhhurious - and ahhhlone. Ahhhh wahhhnted adhhhvice." He licks his lips again, something dark dripping down its chin. "Whhhere shhhhkhould I ghhho with the man?"
Auspice frowns. "I am not going to hurt you. If I did, I would have done so long ago." She makes an effort to relax. "You wanted to ask me for advice?" She purses her lips slightly, looking down to the desiccated scribe's corpse. "Which man are you talking about? What ... 'go' are you speaking of? Growth? A place?"
The executioner shakes his head. "Thhhekhre chhhan only be ohhhne mahhhn in khwessstion. Hhhhkhhhe is chhhahnginghhh - fassssst. I khhhhan hardly khhhep up, ahhhnd the rehhhcent inhhhcident withhhhh thkhhhe throublessome ghhhost phhhroves mkhhe rkhhhight. Ahhhth thisss pkhoint you chhhan ssssee ahhhnd khnow hkrim bhetterrr thhan mhkhee. I mkhhhight bhhhe somethhhhingkh hhe hhhasss no deskhhhhire to bhhhe - buhhht I am khhhere mostly to phhhrotect." He lowers his head in a sort of a bow.
"I... see." She looks to the side. "You, as his unconscious, are appealing to /me/ for aid in how to run his life?" She shakes her head, then turns to the side. "I'm sorry. I can only see this in one way - my hands are tied. Anything I tell you may irrevocably change the man I've come to love. I ... cannot exact this sort of control over him. I haven't even the fraction of a right."
The faintly glowing eyes bright up and look up at the woman. "....lkhhhove?" He takes a step back, shaking his head. "Imphhhosible, I- thhhisss... khhhaaaar!" Cackling - loud, maddening cackling. "Bhhhhrilliankht. Thathhhsss why- thhhhe idiothh." He shakes his head once again. "...fkhhhine thhhen." His eyes lock on the woman. "Thhhen I will be thhhe one ghhhiving you advisssse. Whhhould you lhhhike thhhhat?"
Auspice draws her lips into a thin line at his cackling, the looks down. She felt ridiculous telling him such a thing - it must have slipped out in the moment. At length, she looks back up to meet the glowing orbs that were the man's eyes. "I'm listening, but you will not catch me making any hasty promises, this time?"
The executioner smiles. He rolls his shoulders, long limbs darting to his back and pulling out a pair of rusted axes. "I whhhon't. I khhhhave only ohhhhne phhhiesssse of adhhhvice if 'lkkkkrove' isss whhhat bkhhhrought you khhhere." He cracks his neck, taking a step back, another - and now there is a distance of at least twenty feet separating the two. Lips part, jaws snap open, and the decaying man barks out, slowly turning it into a loud howl. "RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhUUUUUUUUUUUUN."
Auspice 's grip on the chair tightens as the man draws his axes. She shifts her weight to her right foot, ready to twist her body about in one quick motion and spill the chair's contents in the hulking executioner's path. However, the sudden gulf created between the pair renders the tactic useless. She draws her wand, casting her gaze quickly about the room for any distinguishing features that may aid her. For now, she stands her ground - she's not going to be able to outrun him, staff or no. "Why? I want to know /why/." Her muscles are tense, ready to throw her from harm's way.
She only gets a loud roar in response. The executioner starts to advance, slowly, swaying side to side as he walks. "Bekhausssse he khhhhurrrtsss." Step. "Thhhossse." Step. "Thhhahhht." Step-step. "Hkhhhe." Step. "Lhhhhovess." Step-step. Stop. The executioner is breathing heavily. He's shaking - but unmoving otherwise.
Auspice remains standing, though ready to throw the chair in his path if he decided to endanger her. "Ridiculous. I know about his history - but I would never allow myself to suffer at either his hands, nor yours." She narrows her eyes slightly. "Whatever your concept of 'love' is, I assure you that mine is not so foolish."
Thin, webbed lips part to reveal a smile. He stretches out his arms to either side - and drops them, axes falling with a loud 'clank'. "Khhhhleverrrr ghhhhhirl." A nod. The executioner cups his chin and cocks his head to the side. "Hhhhkhhhe isss... in ghhhoood handsss afkhhhterrr akhhhl. A wasssskhn't sssssure lahhhhssst thhhime ykhhhew inthhhruded. Ykhhhhew arrre differrenhhht. Whhhell dhhhkrone." Cackling.
Auspice winces slightly, grimacing at his harsh cackle. "Then you've misjudged me. I've not changed at all - my independence comes first, and it always will - despite my crippled exterior." Her grip on the chair back is as tense as ever - she wasn't to let her guard down in front of him. "Is that all you wanted to see, then?"
Another nod. "Ikhhht mahhhy not ssssekhm imphhortankht to yhhhou - bhhhut it isss. Ihhhhndephhendensssse. Somethinghhh I khhhan rehhhspekhhhht." Another bow. "Bhhhhut you've outhhhlivhhed your whhhelcome." He points to the gaping hole on the floor.
"Ahhhhh- dhhhho thhhry to asssskhhh him whhhhat rkhhheally khhhappened to hissss younghhhhest sssson."
Auspice makes her way towards the hole, teetering at its edge to peer down - trying to see what lay at its terminus. She glances back over her shoulder suspiciously. "Why? Is this something you will hold me to?"
He shakes his head. "I dhhhonkhht wahhhnt anyone hhhherrre anymhhhore, akhhhnd I will bhhhe buildhhhing up the dekhhhfences. Thhhat is thhhough- ssssomethhhingh yhhhhou mighhhht find khhhurioussss."
She would not be able to see anything as far as the hole went - just branches, more branches, spiraling downwards - seemingly, endless.
Auspice looks back down towards the hole. "I'll ... hold -you- to that." With that, she sucks in a quick breath, closes her eyes, and hurls herself down into it.
She wouldn't see it - but the executioner, back in the room, stretches out a hand and catches a small, quivering butterfly into it. His hand curls and crushes the insect. Moira, in turn, would feel her head spinning - the fall slowed down and transitioning, softly, to pushing her out of the man's consciousness.