exsilium | sixth rune; death; audio; dated to saturday morning.

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sixth rune; death; audio; dated to saturday morning.

[Koltira's voice is even more guttural than usual, thick with gravel and pain. The strange reverberation is more pronounced, too; it's as though some other spirit hisses in echo of each word he says.]

I ask you--for my sake--for yours--do not come near my lake right now. [he pauses, exhaling raggedly.] Best ... best, in fact, to avoid the area around it in a several mile radius. For several days, at least.

Please.

[another short, gasping breath, and he's done.]

[OOC edit: koltira is now in his blood frenzy. you are free to approach him, action-style, but please keep in mind that the content of such threads may be triggering. death knights are sadists, and their view of violence is inevitably sexualized. OK? OK <3]

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You here alone, like this? Don't think so.

[All right, so it's starting to look familiar now-- she's seen him like this before. Right when she'd first arrived in Exsilium, come to think of it. And like hell does she have plans to watch anyone else lose their goddamn mind. Not again.

Consider her the Immovable Object, Koltira.]

You pulled yourself together last time.

[It's too late, baby girl; his mind is already half-gone. He crawls towards her, slowly, wretchedly, willing himself to stop. But she's too close, and he can't.]

's --not like last time--'s worse--please--

[he reaches for her, his hand trembling. Don't take it, girl.]

[Unfortunate that it looks more like a plea for help than a request to leave, because with her own guilt at an all time high, she won't walk away from an outstretched hand. Particularly not one belonging to a friend.

Chloe drops down to kneel beside him, takes hold of his hand with both of her own. ]

Easy, darling. You're gonna be just fine.

[As soon as her hand closes around his, he grabs her, tugging her down, pushing her into the dirt. Horror passes over his features as he pins her--horror at himself, at what he wants so desperately to do--but it doesn't stop him from driving his claws into her collarbone.

He growls.]

No. I'm not.

[Oh god. It's worse than she'd expected. He's not sane-- not close to it, even-- but you don't go into her line of work without getting a few serious wounds along the way, and he saved her when she'd fought him off tooth and nail. She's not about to give up on him yet.

So there's a brief moment of pain when his claws find their mark, stomached with a hard wince and the grip of her fingers on his coat. Her foot finds its way to his midsection as insurance, settles there as a promise that she'll kick him right off if it goes too far. Chloe wants him to pull through, but she'd also like to live to see it.]

--come on, mate. Don't do this. Listen to me, okay? You don't want to do this.

[Koltira buries his face in the dark curtain of Chloe's loose hair, breathing in deep. There's so much warmth in her body, so much life. Her heart is a siren's song to him, her blood a rushing river. He drags his claws across her bare chest, slices through the exposed skin, smiling as the lines well up red. He murmurs against her ear, his voice soft and as cold as the dead, rime-coated grass under his boot.]

I'm afraid that I do want to do this, Chloe. This and much worse.

[This time she jolts sharply, significantly less composed beneath his fingertips, particularly when the chill settles in over her torn skin. She needs him focused on her and not the damage he's causing, and with his breath on her neck that's not about to happen. Hell, with him tearing into her, even she's not focused enough.]

I know this is him controlling you, isn't it? Making you go off the deep end.

[Chloe's heel presses up into his side, attempts to put at least a small amount of distance between then, but even using as much leverage as she can muster, he doesn't seem to budge in the slightest.]

Don't give up on me, Koltira.

[Koltira doesn't even seem to hear her. He digs a nail into one of the open cuts, twists it around like a knife.]

You shouldn't have come here. You should have left.

[His voice is high-pitched and manic; his blue eyes wide with the agony coursing through him. He wraps his claws around her throat with his other hand; presses a circlet of small, red wounds into the skin. Come on. Give us a scream.]

[Well that does it. Chloe chokes back a cry of pain when he gouges deep into the wound, instinctually giving up on being patint and aiming to pull him off with a fistful of his hair instead.]

Don't--!! Come on, mate, don't...[Because the Defender strapped to her thigh is the last thing she wants to use, because even out of his mind, she still sees the face of her friend and not an enemy.]

[He does not at all like that tug on his hair. Angrily, he slices another set of livid, red tracks across her chest with his nails, gouging the skin more deeply than before. His grip on her throat tightens. He leans in close, speaks by her ear, his teeth scraping the lobe.]

Scream.

[The surge of pain has her dizzy even without the press of his fingers-- his sharpened claws-- on her throat. It's not a response to his demand, just one to the agony, to the regret tearing away at her for what she's done.

And what she plans on doing.

Chloe screams just as she shoves the muzzle of her gun to the center of his chest and tugs the trigger blindly. Three times, point blank.]

[At point-blank range, not even his dreadplate can fully protect Koltira against the high-impact bullets. They drive right through the steel and into the flesh and bone beneath, shredding whatever soft muscle they find--including a chunk of Koltira's heart.

Unfortunately, that organ is nothing but a lifeless chunk of meat in his body, and injury to it does not stop him. As blood pours from the new wounds, Koltira feels only pain and a sudden, violent burst of rage. Growling hatefully, he grabs Chloe by the hair and yanks, hard, nearly hard enough to snap her neck (but not quite). Koltira covers the barrel of Chloe's gun with his other hand, and ice flows from his palm, coating the weapon--and Chloe's body, too. A chilling, debilitating fever comes with this frost, sinking beneath Chloe's skin and into her veins as the ice crawls over her chest, her neck, her mouth.

He speaks softly as he watches his spell take effect.]

That was hardly sporting.

[It's too quick to give her a chance to even register what's happening with her neck craned back at so sharp an angle that she can see the darkened forest treetops against the star-spotted night sky. But the cold-- that completely debilitating chill that crawls up her body before she has enough time to scream-- she can feel stab into her right down to the bone. Has her shaking and shivering as involuntary systems try to keep blood coursing through frigid veins.

And it's a small, distant thought that isn't entirely there, but she's glad to hear the sound of his voice-- to know she didn't kill him. ]

[He can't quite say what it is. Perhaps it's the violent shaking of her body in his arms; perhaps it's the terror on her face; perhaps it's just luck. But, in any case, clarity returns to him in that moment, and he drops Chloe, horror clear on his face.]

No----Chloe--!

[It's awkward, thanks to the ice coupled with heavy bleeding, but she's aware enough not to linger for more than a few moments once she hits the ground. Scrabbles at it enough to crawl away and stagger off without a glance over her shoulder. Not because she doesn't care to see him, or that fear has overridden her attachment, but that her mind is a tangled mess of pain and heat and cold. Getting away is the only single thought she can manage with fever settling in.

Less than a minute, and she's gone.]

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sixth rune; death; audio; dated to saturday morning.

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