Sep 19, 2011 16:23
murderhound and murderhorse,
aw yeah agility stat,
perfectly well-adjusted individual,
family issues,
i own a horse,
murderhound's a-stabbin',
fuck everything,
break out the loaded dice,
why we can't have nice things,
shit is gonna get real
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[If anyone that had known Lancer when he was alive said that he had cried on the days he'd killed Ferdiad and Connla, he would have denied it to his dying breath. He would have insisted otherwise, because knights didn't have the luxury of being so emotional.]
[It would have been one of the few lies he ever told.]
[There had been something building up in the back of his mind for a long time in Mayfield, something he couldn't give a name to. He didn't know if it started with Bazett's droning or with the nightmares that accompanied his human body, but there was some inexplicable and intangible weight that just kept getting heavier as things got worse.]
[He should have been able to handle it. Culann's Hound was no weakling. But ever since he'd been forced to mercykill Rin he knew it was getting to be too much. Diarmuid's death had just made it that much worse.]
[But now? Now that history repeated itself, now that he'd done for a second time the one thing that ever made him feel actual regret? That weight made something in the back of his mind snap.]
[But no, he wasn't crying.]
[Lancer slowly dropped to his knees beside Connla with an uncharacteristic horrified look breaking out across his face, but the sound that left him wasn't anything like crying. What left him in that one moment when everything broke down and fell apart was a near-inhuman scream of heartbroken agony and absolute rage.]
[Someone was going to suffer for this.]
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Lancer...
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[When Connla had died the first time, Lancer didn't remember how he'd reacted. Because he had immediately blacked out and gone into a berserk rage that killed gods only knew how many.]
[He felt a small sense of frustration once he realized that for the first time in his life, he was both enraged and completely lucid.]
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Rin is still out there, making a stand. I know the pain you feel right now. I have felt it, slaying so many of my kinsmen. But... you must endure. You have your oaths. Now... Get up and help me kill these beasts!
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[He was up in a flash, looking more than ready to murder something undead or otherwise.]
When you've killed your only son twice?! When all you've ever wanted for yourself was a kid?! Then you can talk like you know what the hell you're saying!
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[It was so strange to him, being this angry. For thirty years he'd tried in varying degrees of success to let the worst of things just roll off because he knew what he was capable of. He still remembered waking up on a battlefield at the age of seventeen, covered in the blood of hundreds he didn't know he'd killed. Self-control and composure were vital, when anger led to a warp spasm.]
[Trying to fully comprehend being enraged, conscious, and completely lucid was a difficult thing. Too difficult, when he was in this much pain.]
[So he would deal with this in the most obvious way he could. Lancer turned to face the shuffling horde that was advancing on him, lance securely in one hand--with the other he reached out and inscribed a rune in the air without bothering to hold back on how much prana he put into it. Rin could afford it, at least.]
[The fire that overtook the undead creatures was sudden, powerful, and only just weak enough to not spread to the entire town.]
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... Keep going, we're not there yet.
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[Lancer had put some distance between himself and the horde--about fifty feet, entire body low to the ground with the look of a wildcat eyeing it's prey.]
Preferably somewhere behind me.
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