10 → [ video | backdated to Shadows event, right before dawn. ]
[ Everything is the strangest grey.
It's a thick grey, thick and soft and odd-inexorably curling and unwinding across the screen in lazy tendrils, but there's more to it than just the Mist. Grainy lines of static run routinely up and down across it, and there is absolutely no sound. Altogether an unremarkable, inconspicuous scene.The Forge broadcasting this is clearly on its last legs.
The view trembles once, twice, and then the deafening silence gives way to a faint rasping noise, interspersed with a thin, quiet whistle that tunes in and out. The rasping is halted, faint; slowly, the Mist unfurls back enough to solve this mystery-
Breathing.
It's only barely recognizable as such because of the shallow rise and fall of the battered chest of the winged man sprawled not two yards away, eagle-spread against a backdrop of the sort of crumbling rock found in the Ruins, one enormous wing lopsided over his shoulder at an odd angle. One it shouldn’t be in. His head lolls onto the other shoulder, dark hair mussed and matted with crimson, hanging into bleary, half-lidded eyes. It's obvious he cannot see the Forge in front of him. ]
[ static ] death of a monster.
[ It's Angeal's voice, coming mutedly from somewhere behind, the words mingled with static, but the pale lips of the man lying some yards away, those lips part only to drag in his next rattling breath- ]
[ static ] being ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as [ static ] around here unarmed. After all [ static ] end like this. It never did.
[ An idle tap-tap-tapping of fingers, and the Forge screen flickers, but Angeal does not stir, not even when the camera suddenly pans forward, so swiftly that it’s evident that it has just been cast at him. The view flickers, goes black and then returns, still hard to make out for anyone not paying proper attention, this time showing a diagonal view of the crooked wing above. The clearest sound now amid the static is a dull, rhythmic thudding that grows slower with each passing moment. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. ]
What you were made to [ static ] just threw it away [ static ] weak [ static ] killed your-
[ The static grows heavier and for the next few moments, there is only the visual: a sudden jolt that signals agitated movement beneath the Forge. The view tilts so that it is facing the sky. ]
[ static ] knows you don't lie.
[ Another longer pause, and the previous agitation dies down suddenly as the sky fizzles into a brief grey before giving way to black. And now only sound remains. ]
[ static ] honest man, after all [ static ] honourable [ static ] a good man. But in the end…
[ Footsteps. Walking away. ]
...just a man.
[ (Unseen, Angeal Hewley smiles one last time; the Forge catches the last few heartbeats before they melt into silence and static, and the sun rises.) ]
[ ooc: yup, Angeal's just been (apparently) done-in by Shadow!Angeal. ergo, no responses, folks. ]
It's a thick grey, thick and soft and odd-inexorably curling and unwinding across the screen in lazy tendrils, but there's more to it than just the Mist. Grainy lines of static run routinely up and down across it, and there is absolutely no sound. Altogether an unremarkable, inconspicuous scene.The Forge broadcasting this is clearly on its last legs.
The view trembles once, twice, and then the deafening silence gives way to a faint rasping noise, interspersed with a thin, quiet whistle that tunes in and out. The rasping is halted, faint; slowly, the Mist unfurls back enough to solve this mystery-
Breathing.
It's only barely recognizable as such because of the shallow rise and fall of the battered chest of the winged man sprawled not two yards away, eagle-spread against a backdrop of the sort of crumbling rock found in the Ruins, one enormous wing lopsided over his shoulder at an odd angle. One it shouldn’t be in. His head lolls onto the other shoulder, dark hair mussed and matted with crimson, hanging into bleary, half-lidded eyes. It's obvious he cannot see the Forge in front of him. ]
[ static ] death of a monster.
[ It's Angeal's voice, coming mutedly from somewhere behind, the words mingled with static, but the pale lips of the man lying some yards away, those lips part only to drag in his next rattling breath- ]
[ static ] being ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as [ static ] around here unarmed. After all [ static ] end like this. It never did.
[ An idle tap-tap-tapping of fingers, and the Forge screen flickers, but Angeal does not stir, not even when the camera suddenly pans forward, so swiftly that it’s evident that it has just been cast at him. The view flickers, goes black and then returns, still hard to make out for anyone not paying proper attention, this time showing a diagonal view of the crooked wing above. The clearest sound now amid the static is a dull, rhythmic thudding that grows slower with each passing moment. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. ]
What you were made to [ static ] just threw it away [ static ] weak [ static ] killed your-
[ The static grows heavier and for the next few moments, there is only the visual: a sudden jolt that signals agitated movement beneath the Forge. The view tilts so that it is facing the sky. ]
[ static ] knows you don't lie.
[ Another longer pause, and the previous agitation dies down suddenly as the sky fizzles into a brief grey before giving way to black. And now only sound remains. ]
[ static ] honest man, after all [ static ] honourable [ static ] a good man. But in the end…
[ Footsteps. Walking away. ]
...just a man.
[ (Unseen, Angeal Hewley smiles one last time; the Forge catches the last few heartbeats before they melt into silence and static, and the sun rises.) ]
[ ooc: yup, Angeal's just been (apparently) done-in by Shadow!Angeal. ergo, no responses, folks. ]