second rune; death; video

[deadelfwalking]

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.

Comments

[theguideless]

I. [gritted teeth talk:] Won't let you do it again.

[deadelfwalking]

[Kid, he never did anything in the first place! He laughs miserably, a sound that's broken up by occasional 'ggrrk' sounds from the pain.]

You know, boy, you and your family remind me of a group of people from my own home. They called themselves the Scarlet Crusade ...

[theguideless]

Don't talk about them. [ISN'T HE JUST THE MOST FEROCIOUS RN.

no not really. he's got his own frayed nerves going on here, morale dropping as he goes.]

[deadelfwalking]

[growling into the netbook.] The Scarlet Crusade was a group of zealots. They hated anything that wasn't human, and even if you were human, they hated you for not being one of them.

[he spits, his voice quaking, ragged.] They tortured and slaughtered anyone they suspected of being evil--and they didn't need a reason to suspect you. They were remorseless killers.

We were trapped in an illusion, and I was trying to protect you. But if you think that was real--if you think your family's behavior in that wretched dream was normal ...

[theguideless]

It was a mistake! [sharply. quickly:] It's not your home, you don't know. You weren't supposed to be there!

[deadelfwalking]

I didn't want to be there. [a wracking pain washes over him, striking every muscle, every nerve. He covers his face, makes a high-pitched, strangled noise. He struggles to maintain clarity and focus, but nothing about the situation--or this conversation--is making that easy. After a few moments, he manages--]

I meant to act only in defense. I had no idea that you would react so poorly to the barrier. It was a shield of protection, against magic.

[Video]

[hornedomen]

Why?

[He asked with resentment. There were more questions he wanted to follow with. Too many questions that cluttered his thoughts and that he could not articulate.]

[theguideless]

[the noises shoot down his nerve all the more, terrifying him. rushed, panicked:]

It, it was a mistake it's not their fault only monsters were out there it's not. Not their fault!

[deadelfwalking]

[oh Jesus. You are definitely equated with the Crusade in his mind, Darkov, because you are clearly a product of severe indoctrination. With perfect, steady calm, using pretty much all of his remaining energy to restrain the agony.]

If you want to kill me for my efforts to help you, and for defending myself against illusions, then fine. Come and do it. I would welcome true death at this point.

[theguideless]

[horrified, scattered:] I...That— I said it was a mistake! I said—!

[deadelfwalking]

[He digs the palm of his hand against his eye. Is this really happening to him right now? SERIOUSLY NOW. He inhales and exhales slowly; it's false breath, but it has a very slight calming effect. Steadily, tired:]

Martin. I hear you. I understand you. You must calm down.

[deadelfwalking]

[IS EVERYONE GOING TO TAKE A SHOT AT HIM TODAY? Is that how this is gonna go. He groans.]

Why what. The deer? I have been hunting them from time to time--[his voice catches as he chokes on another pain-blast. Man, this is getting old.]--though I usually do not use Byfrost to do it.

[theguideless]

[psyching himself out big time. a few huffed breaths, and then he just. slaps the computer closed, because horrifying. SUCH A USEFUL BOY.]

[sacrificar]

[someone needs a time out.]

And if it is not given?

[action]

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan, as much as he doesn't like it, eventually has to stop trying to contact Koltira in order to focus on the road. It was easier before the last mission back in time -- vehicles had been few and far between, and the streets had been empty. Now he actually has to worry about crashing into others.

It's clearer out of the city, at least. He all but stomps down on the gas and roars his way down into the forests, only coming to a halt once he hears the screaming.

Bariyan turns the engine off and scrambles out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. He pauses to get his bearings, to listen, then runs off in the direction that he thinks the screaming is coming from, raising his voice in attempt to make himself heard over the awful noise. ]

Koltira. Koltira.

[totallytrustworthy]

All right, all right. Easy.

What can we do, then? You can't expect the people that brought us here to help you; they're only in it for themselves, trust me. You'll need some other alternative, and you've gotta leave the battle to the death bit behind.

[andhishat]

[She owes him a debt, which is why she's reserving her usual sharp tongue]

I doubt the local wildlife are able to put up a very satisfying fight. What sort of battle do you require then?

[hornedomen]

Not the deer! You…

[He faltered as Koltira was obviously in pain. It was not that he was losing confidence; it was because he could not find a way to word out all his thoughts.

Still, he tried.] Why do you do that? The girl and the battles, why? Why do you need to fight?

permavoice;

[withouthumanity]

Now, now.

You do not want to taunt those who bring you here—do you?

[deadelfwalking]

[he's crouched down in the dirt still, pushing his fists against his eyelids, his mouth bloody from biting into the skin. When he hears Bariyan approach, he gestures frantically, trying to wave him off.]

Go. You shouldn't have come. You must leave.

[deadelfwalking]

[his sheer irritation at this conversation gives him enough willpower to arrange himself more comfortably; with effort, he assumes a cross-legged position on the ground, laughing at Ashraf's remark, because willpower really is the thing here.] Story of my bloody life.

[he shakes his head.] Why are you here, then? When I called you for help with that sniveling kim'jael of a man, you didn't even look at me.

[deadelfwalking]

[he laughs, a little deliriously, in response.] No charm here.

[as for the Initiative, well ... he exhales sharply.] From what I've seen, they are little more than an incompetent mess of humans. They have great power at their command, but little faculty in using it.

[deadelfwalking]

[Barnaby has the right of it, on all counts. Koltira's voice is grim and steady when he replies.]

If I cannot control this pain, I will slip into madness.

[healplz]

[ He watches closely for a moment more, then sinks to a crouch in front of him. Koltira might possibly deserve that much, even if the teachings of the Church vehemently disagree. ]

I am here to ensure no one gets hurt. [ Permanently, at least. Which tends to be his speciality. He stares at him steadily, unmoved by the reminder of his behavior last time. ] Will these feelings fade? Or is battle necessary?

[deadelfwalking]

[No, and he certainly doesn't expect--or want--that from any of the transports. He just wants some follow-through from their keepers.

There's a stilted, shuddering breath. He doesn't want to talk about this, not only because speaking is a trial, but because there's just no way to slice it nicely.]

The relief is ... proportional to the depth of the injury. To the suffering.