exsilium | second rune; death; video

[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.

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[ Now he registers words, meanings, more besides. He hears the uneasiness in Koltira's voice and raises his hand to Koltira's shoulder, in what might've been a reassuring gesture if it weren't for the shakiness of his fingers. With his other hand he clutches at his own throat, hard.

With the minutes passing by and no new assault upon his person, Bariyan deems it safe to attempt sitting up. ]

Koltira. [ His voice is weakened, barely intelligible. He tries to ask are you done?, next, but it sounds like a death rattle. ]

I'm sorry--I'm so--terribly sorry--

[his words are quick, high-pitched, ragged. Still holding onto Bariyan, he leans over the man, shaking. This is agony.]

Why? Why didn't you leave? I told you to leave.

[ Bariyan shifts his grip on his throat, trying to hold it together. Goddammit, he wants to talk. ]

Don't-- How a-- [ Words dissolving into coughs. No, it's no good. Damn it.

Bariyan grips the string in his fingers and yanks, hard. Something inside screeches at him to stop. But he goes only far enough to tighten the stitches that remain in-place, pulling them as secure as he can before he dares to let go. That done, he places his free hand against Koltira's chest, again. Fingers curling in just slightly. Stop. It's fine. ]

[he shakes his head 'no', because it's definitely not fine. This is the complete antithesis of fine.]

You are badly wounded-- [because of me.]--you need help.

[he would carry Bariyan back to the city himself, but he's still not in the best state to be around other people. Instead, he looks around frantically for the netbook. Surely he can call the hospital or the clinic or something.]

[ Bariyan stops trying to talk. He does shift the hand on Koltira's shoulder off, to lay against Koltira's jaw instead -- stop. Stop looking. The most help Bariyan needs is a needle and thread.

He forces himself up, off the support of Koltira's arms, and winces as he's forced to fully face the mess of gore that he's sitting in. All right, then. Needle, thread, and a knife to trim off his entrails. He has no desire to walk around with a couple feet of intestine dragging along after him.

No matter. Bariyan turns his gaze upon Koltira. He's changed, again. That terrible, uninhibited sadism has all but vanished.

But for how long? ]

[Koltira catches Bariyan's eye, and sees the question there--the uncertainty. That, more than anything else, makes his gut curdle. He struggles to his feet, even as more pain shoots up his arms and legs. Misery falls over him like a drape.

He doesn't want to leave Bariyan in such a state, but the man doesn't seem that worried about his own condition. He seems focused on Koltira, on what he might do next.

Clutching his chest as he feels the discordant voices inside him start to rise in volume, Koltira turns away.]

... I will leave you, then.

[ If Bariyan had full control over himself, he would have refused. Would have realized that Koltira was still hurting, known that he couldn't leave until he'd done all that he could for the man. That might've left Bariyan in shreds, but surely it would have been worth it.

But Bariyan is shaken by the change he'd seen in Koltira, by Koltira's ability to seize ahold of the few things that did give Bariyan cause for concern. He is not unsettled to the point of horror, but it is enough to quell him. So he does not protest.

He does grab on to Koltira's arm one last time, though. ]

Your. Blade.

[ Bariyan just barely manages to choke the words out. Somewhat hesitantly, he grabs a fistful of his own viscera and yanks, pointedly. His gaze turns back upon Byfrost.

It'll be too hard to drag himself back to the city like this. Better to shed the excess now. ]

[Koltira winces at his own handiwork. He surely does not want to take Byfrost to Bariyan again, but he understands the request well enough. He nods, picks up the weapon, and brings it down swiftly on the spare section of entrails. This is done with great effort--the sword and his body are both calling, begging for more--but Koltira manages to step away quickly after the job is finished.

He murmurs.]

You shouldn't have come. I would have torn myself apart rather than do this to you.

[And then he breaks into a run, disappearing into the trees shortly thereafter.]

second rune; death; video

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