the danger is i'm dangerous

[respired]

CHARACTERS: Koltira et al

DATE: Jan 27 - onwards

WARNINGS: violence; blood; general gross (dead things and decaying things etc)

SUMMARY: Blood frenzy.



GENERAL PROMPT: THE OUTSKIRTS, NEAR THE WOODS;

[It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts--

It's his only sensible thought, a continuous scream in his mind that never quiets; never stops. He just wants to stop. The pain, the noise, the press of life and energy and movement that surrounds him. His own body. He'd give anything for exhaustion. For sleep. But a death knight was not designed to yield. No matter the depth of his injuries, no matter the blood smeared on his face and armor and across the long curtain of his bone-white hair, he does not fall. No matter the cracks in his armor, his split lip, his wounds. He is relentless, because he has no other choice.

Koltira staggers among the fields that border the woodlands; they are silent, and largely abandoned.

Eventually, he presses into the woods, thinking--thinking nothing, still, really. His mind is static and incoherent whispers and begging. Animals cross his path: a rabbit dances away from him, but a deer is not so quick. He lets Byfrost linger in its belly for too long, watches the corpse rapidly decay into so much meat and slime.

He leans against an oak, and plague seeps from his fingers, steals past the bark and down to the root. The wood begins to hiss and melt beneath his palm.]


[ooc: individual starters are below! the above is a general prompt for encounters in the woods or the outskirts. if you would prefer something else, or even a thread set AFTER this whole mess, let me know. you can grab me on plurk at runehallow.]

Comments

[winces]

Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?

[ given her overall expression of exhaustion, it's hard to tell if she's being serious or not... ]

[respired]

[He raises an eyebrow.]

I don't sleep. Sing for yourself.

[She looks like she's ready to fall right over. He wants to ask where she's been--whose blood that was--but it's hardly his business, is it?]

[winces]

I do, but it's not nearly as fun.

[ she sighs a little, and perhaps it's due to her reluctance to turn away from him — as if that might somehow say more than her other actions have, and imply a fear of him, or a distrust — but a moment later she is leaning against his shoulder, letting her head come to rest there. ]

Another friend of mine said he didn't sleep, either. But I wrote and performed a bedtime story for him, and he finally did... I can do that for you, too...

[ "another" friend ]

[respired]

Sleep is not enjoyable for me. It isn't restorative.

[So popular, Olivia, but--what is happening right now? He stares straight ahead, feeling discomfited, uncertain. He fights an urge to recoil, because she's certainly too tired to know what she's doing. But he doesn't want to shove her to the ground, either. Paralyzed with indecision, he just stays right where he is.]

But I wouldn't mind a song.

[winces]

[ omg the point is she considers YOU a friend, you big emo elf >:'ccc ]

Mm. Are there any songs in your world that you can remember?

[respired]

Yes. Are you asking me to sing?

[Ugghh.]

[winces]

Are you asking me to fall asleep?

[ so yes, yes she is. ]

[respired]

[His ears flatten. He's about to make a comment about how it isn't safe for her to sleep here, but he's not sure she's going to make it back to civilization alone. So. Fine.

He looks up at the canopy, his eyes unfocused. He sings, quietly. He'd sung this song before, when he was drunk and stumbling over the mistletoe, but he's completely sober now. His baritone, eerie voice echoes among the quiet trees.]

Anar'alah, anar'alah belore

sin'dorei

shindu fallah na ...

[winces]

[ it isn't the happiest song to fall asleep to. but at this point, it would be pretty remiss to be picky.

she can tell it means something, though, from the heavy weight of his voice, the way it croons and lilts in the air, like the steady sway of a funeral procession. it fills her heart with a solemnity she can't quite place or understand, but it settles there nonetheless, a feeling she drags with her to unconsciousness. ]

[respired]

[Once he feels her breath even out in sleep, Koltira falls silent. He doesn't move immediately. She's a warm, soft weight against him, and she apparently--after everything--trusts him enough to think that she was safe.

He's not sure what to make of that. It's foolish, one part of him thinks.

But another part of him thinks that it feels like grace.

He lifts his hand again, as he had earlier. Gently, he touches the top of her soft hair. She doesn't stir.

Koltira exhales slowly. He can't leave her here. After another minute, he disentangles himself, setting her gently down so that he can gather her back up. He carries her out of the woods, towards the outskirts.

The goblins don't meet his eyes, and that's just fine with him. He finds an inn, gives the proprietor gold and a look that brooks no discussion, and brings her up to a room.

Koltira leaves her there, resting on a bed. He returns to the woods. He makes himself lost. For whatever time remains on Chantes, he does not emerge.]

[hellshaped]

[That would be an ideal solution, yes. But Hellboy's certain they'd both get cut down before they got five yards away from here. Whatever's wrong with Koltira has apparently messed with his ability to hold back because, unlike the time he fought snowmen with him, there is a whole lot more going on right now. Decay and bones and disgusting, worm-like creatures.

Hellboy really hates disgusting, worm-like creatures.]

Probably. [This is a terrible, horrifying situation, but Hellboy can't help but give in to the adrenaline, his teeth baring in something between a grin and a grimace -- he is overdue for beating on somebody trying to kill him.]

But I take stupid risks all the time.

[With that, Hellboy steels himself and then just unceremoniously charges forward. Once he hits the border of the miasma, it's an outrageous amount of pain eating at his flesh, but he doesn't stops -- it just spurs him forward, bellowing, his stone fist held aloft and ready to slam into Koltira.]

[respired]

[Her magic does revitalize him--the blinding color of his runes are proof enough of that--but it's not his goal. Ever since this all began, Koltira has consistently maintained but one train of thought. Stop. Stop. Please, stop. He shudders with the wracking pain even as his razor-sharp nails bite into the soft flesh of her throat, even as he watches the jewel-bright blood trickle down between his fingers. His eyes widen at the sight, and at her quick, shallow gasps for breath. She's suffering, and to him, it is a balm.

But he's unfocused, myopic. He doesn't catch it when her hand claps over his face, and the spell knocks him back, sends him staggering away from Rin with an enraged howl. He claws at his own eyes with one hand; with the other, he brandishes his sword. Now nearly seeping magic, Byfrost seems to shake as it leeches heat from the air, from the ground, from whatever else it can reach. The power bursts from the sword as an arc of frost, meant to sweep over Rin, to form crystals over her feet and legs and hold her in place.]

[defenceless]

[a burst of heat and force of ether ricochets her blindly to the ground, sailing over a distance, and rin smashes against the hard earth and rocks with a thump but it's forgotten in favor of the fresh, crisp air she pulls into her lungs. her neck is bleeding terribly. she cups a hand at her throat, and she groans to herself as she crawls across the grass inch by inch, wasting precious seconds waiting for magic circuits to reactivate and contaminated nerves to heal.]

Stupid... [she pants. her voice is faint, but even now it sounds like she's complaining.] Stupid...

[it's more a cursing of her than of him. she thought she could handle this. —no, if she thinks she can't, she's as good as dead already. fortunately, she's alone and nobody else seems to be in the vicinity to distract him. rin glances at the white back of her bare hand stretched out before her and spies the red of her command seals.

archer.

she needs to call archer. but he's busy, possibly murdering that bastard michel, and she's not so stupid she'd prioritize her life over an entire population of people. still, she could let him know— it's at that moment biting frost sticks to her legs beneath the skirt of her dress, freezing her, and she reluctantly swallows one of her own jewels, for the energy, the healing, something.]

[respired]

[There's a tempest building around Koltira. Fierce, bitingly cold winds kick up around his body; the wind howls as it gathers speed and intensity, rising in a funnel from Koltira's boots, up over his body, and then beyond, into the sky above him. The tempest moves with him as he walks slowly forward, his runeblade dragging in the dirt road. His eyes are wide and unfocused, burning with pain, with a madness that cannot be denied.

He can see her blood, but it's the scent that spurs him forward. The salt-copper taste is already on his tongue, and he wants a true taste; wants to feel that heat in his mouth. It will help. It will help stop the pain.

Plague energy runs up and down the length of Byfrost's blade; a pale, green magic that radiates decay. The ground turns black beneath Koltira's boots as he walks. Thin, pale limbs reach up from the cracked, dark earth, grasping for whatever they can touch.

Koltira says nothing. He approaches.]

[defenceless]

[she settles on calling on her mastery of the elements to heighten her body temperature and melt the ice, funneling the excess mana also into healing; it does little good, because as soon as she's able to twist and move her ankles, the blackened earth surrounds her. there are spindly, grotesque limbs binding her in place now, shooting up from the charred grass, clasping onto whatever they can and rudely tugging on both dress and arms while rin writhes, furious to free herself.

it's a course of action better thought of than completed. it seems each touch of ghastly hands poisons her circuits that much more, and she feels a lot like warm death—this illness could contend with her gandr shot, no, it's above it. she believes that if she concentrates she senses the wires of her circuits fading out one by one. her flesh is fragile against muscle and bone, and her head is heavy, lazy with the weight of her blood and remaining magical energy.

her eyelids fall shut, and she snaps them open right after, but the dazed wobbling of her head on her neck is hard to ignore. her eyes lose their focus on him. he's nothing but ridiculous power, anyway. the arms all but hold her for him, an offering on the altar.]

apologies for the delay! )8

[riastraid]

[ You okay there, buddy... Eh. Clearly not. He sounds more beast than man, senses lost and ice gained. He can feel the swell of magic, but there's not much time to admire or try and drink it in, not unless he wants to be run through completely.

Instead. Lancer meets the sword with his spear, blades screeching across each other. He deflects, guiding the strike away and stepping in. It's not how a spearman's meant to fight. He gets in close instead of batting him aside for distance, studying Koltira for a beat longer than he should. His feet dig in carefully to avoid losing traction. He can feel the temperature dip across the exposed skin of his hands.

Excellent.

He breaks the brief stare and his smile spreads into a grin, toothy and not at all warm. Neither is the way he pivots, drawing his spear into an upwards swing, aiming to slash Koltira from hip to shoulder. ]

[respired]

[The sight of her struggle is a balm to him, much as he'll despise himself for it later. Her desperation, her suffering: this is what the curse threaded through his body, his blood, demands. But he needs to feel her pain, too; he needs to feel her trembling in his hands, hear her agonized voice echo in his ears. As her pain deepens, his own eases.

When Koltira reaches Rin, he drives Byfrost into the ground beside him. The sword's runes, lit up like gleaming ice crystals, continue to emanate a dark, freezing power. Koltira leaves it to its work as he seizes Rin by the shoulders. He digs his fingers in, pushing against skin and bone, tearing the fabric of her beautiful dress. He yanks her up, and the ghastly hands clinging to her break at the wrists with a sickening crack; they collapse in pieces onto the desecrated earth.]

Scream. Scream, and beg me to stop.

[respired]

[Alice's anger antagonizes Koltira, makes him want to stay. To wreck that look on her face, to boil her blood, to let the plague spill from his fingers and seek the vitality of her muscles. But these impulses war with his better angels, with the sharp slivers of reason still scrabbling for purchase in his mind. He stares at her, jaw clenched, growling low like an angry dog. Seconds pass, almost a full minute.

At length, he turns away from her. He returns Byfrost to his back. Power, pale green and swirling, rises around his boots. Without another word, he takes off, darting into the crowd, towards the city's exit.]

thumbs up

[respired]

[The bullets pummel through Koltira's armor, striking him square in the chest. Blood, black and brackish, pours from the wounds. Koltira scowls, wincing, but he does not otherwise lose momentum; he decides that if she won't come to him, he'll go to her. Chains burst from the crust of the ground around Riza, heavy iron coated with rime so cold it burns to touch. The chains seek to bind her in whatever way possible, whipping around her to lash against her ankles; her wrists; the backs of her legs.

He lunges towards her even as this spell takes effect, his sword aglow with blood-red runes. His strike aims for her calves--another move meant to disable, to sweep her (less than romantically) off of her feet.]

[respired]

[Koltira tries to block Hellboy's punch with Byfrost, but he only partly succeeds; the runeblade absorbs some of the force, though not so much that Koltira can keep upright. He nearly flies backwards, in fact, crashing down hard on the ground. He feels bones break; skin tear; blood drip. Gnashing his teeth, he takes Byfrost's hilt with both hands and lifts it above his head as he stands. Dark energy pours from the skull-shaped runes inscribed on the blade. All around them, the field churns.

Moments later, the earth shakes in localized spots, as though something's trying to come up. Moments after that, quite a few somethings do. Ghouls, wights, other monstrosities of various shapes and sizes--though it is mostly ghouls, by and large--claw their way out of their dirt. Their garbled howls fill the air, and, as a pack, they launch themselves towards Hellboy. Claws out, jaws open.

Ramir, they pass by. Koltira has a demon to take down.]

[respired]

[Koltira has no intention of answering, nor even the capacity. Not with words, at any rate. Instead, he steps towards Loki, his eyes burning, his hand extended (the ghoul, for its part, continues to take mindless swings at Loki as it can).

Koltira is no longer addicted to magic. Had he lived, and become truly sin'dorei, he might have needed to take others' power in order to survive. But now it is another tool; something used to drain and weaken anything magical in his way. He pulls on the power, drawing it out and into himself, feeding on it. If Koltira had his wits, he could remark on what was happening--or about to happen. How unusual this felt, how it was nothing like any magic he'd ever stolen before.

He cries out as the channel deepens, and feels his body warp and reshape itself. For brief seconds, his skin turns healthy and sanguine, free of cracks, warm and soft and pliant; his hair shifts to golden blond. His armor, too, becomes something brighter: robin's egg blue with gold filigree, gleaming like it was freshly polished. His eyes, for a moment blue like the surface of a lake, widen in shock. A heart thrums in his ears: his own. Blood pumps. He chokes, stumbles. It hurts.

It doesn't last, either. The pain worsens, becomes just as excruciating as before. His skin sloughs away, turning not faintly blue but instead rotten egg yellow, torn and decayed. Bones on his spine and fingers are fully exposed. His eyes are sunken lanterns; his breath wheezing.

Koltira staggers forward, confused and angry; he clenches his fist, stopping the channel. His body regains its usual shape. Byfrost--the final vessel for anything Koltira takes--glows dark with stolen power.

All around them, the grass dies. The earth dries out as though suffering a drought of a hundred years in just a few seconds. Miasma rises from it, dark red and bubbling, a gas that will make anything it touches burn and decay. Koltira, his fractured mind now twice-over tortured, lunges for Loki.]

[digophelia]

[ Stiffly standing there, Alice knew at this point in time she wouldn't be able to hold her own again. It was for the better to let him pass before endangering anyone else. And yet, she still held back her own wishes and desires that he would try again, just so that she could finally have the chance to really sink her knife in him.

After all, don't they always continue? She does nothing to stop him, finding her body too heavy to move at that point. Rational kept her from taking a swing, again, no matter how angered she was that he dared laid hands on her in such a way.

"You did not listen to me."

Just what was his problem? Why did he behave in such a way? It echoed in Alice's mind, as she wrestled with conflicting feelings as well as reminding herself her friends here wouldn't take too kindly to being hurt. And as well, her dark thoughts and desires were entertaining her madness, something that she didn't need at this point in time.

Still, she would make sure that he would leave, she wanted to see that he was a man of his word and he would leave the city and as he did, Alice could finally take some assurance that he was and continue on her way if nothing happened.

It's how she copes with any traumatizing situation. ]

[respired]

[Lancer's spear screeches against Koltira's armor, leaving deep gouges in the plate. Koltira lets it happen, stepping in closer, allowing the spear to run right through his left shoulder. His armor cracks; blood spurts from the wound. He grimaces, but the runes on his sword come alive, shifting to a symbol that glows crimson. Drawing back just slightly, Koltira uses their cozy quarters to stab directly at Lancer's midsection.

Meantime, the tempest around him intensifies. Its frostburn wind bites and slashes all on its own, and to stay within its range for more than a few seconds causes an unbearable, stunning stiffness.]

[heavyhitter]

[ No, that's it, that's all she's got. She is not sticking around for fucking demons clawing out of the ground. She tried her best, the red guy is on his own.

She wastes exactly zero more time, just turns on her heel and dashes off. She'll look for him later, see if he survived this whole thing. If not, well, she won't be too surprised. ]

[chaoscontrol]

[Strong. This creature was incredibly strong. A humanoid taking the full force of one his tackles and getting up? Impressive indeed.

Stop? He wants what to stop?

But Shadow doesn't have time to think about what it could mean, because he finds himself encased in ice.

He really had to do something about that damned sword.

The hedgehog glows red, waves of hot energy coming deep from within. Then, all at once, he allows it to explode, sending chunks of ice flying in every direction. The cold is irritating, but not enough to stop him. Shadow forms a beam of pure, golden energy in one hand, then throws the bolt at the hand holding the sword]