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

[riastraid]

[ He's learned runes from the (literal) best, but the symbols here are unfamiliar. Too otherworldly for him to parse and puzzle out. He's left relying on a natural resistance to magecraft, the worst of the spells running off like water, just as Koltira seems to shrug away cuts and bruises. (Asshole.)

But he's not immune to cold. It slows him down, seizing at his limbs just long enough that his parry doesn't meet quite right. Not enough force at the height of the swing to deflect it. He eats a gash to the thigh instead of a more precious joint, a clean, clear cut.

He ignores it with some help from the cold, but mostly thanks to straight-up fury. No seconds wasted to taste iron or poison on the air. Too busy slashing a hand out, and suddenly his own runes form bright in the space between them. They hover, glow, rupture—a burst of flame flashes forth, lashing back against the frigid winds. Whether it's the fact that he's not frozen stiff or just a great and building desire to stab this guy in the face, Lancer picks up speed, lunging and slicing through smoke to try and sink his lance into Koltira's chest. ]

[respired]

[The scream echoes through Koltira, not just in his ears, but in his muscles and nerves and blood. He shudders as Riza falls, as her wounds open, as red stains the earth at their feet. He stands over her, sword raised, his hands shaking, his eyes wide. Her voice is both bullet and balm; her suffering satisfies the hunger, but tears at the rest of him. The insensate haze thins, and he recognizes her face.]

Riza--

[He staggers back.]

Riza, please--run--

[respired]

[Koltira doesn't even notice that Ramir's gone. She's a non-entity to him now; the scope of his focus is limited to Hellboy, to the demon now before him.

Some of the ghouls go down easily. Their bodies cannot take the punishment dealt by the stone arm, and they explode almost on contact, a burst of bones and teeth and dirty bandages. Others are less easily deterred--a hulking behemoth with plagued pustules bubbling on its diseased skin keeps coming, lumbering at Hellboy, trying to give him the most unpleasant hug possible. Hellboy's arm punctures its stomach, but it soldiers forward, mindlessly, spilling its guts all over the field.

Koltira, meanwhile, leaps back into the fray himself, aiming Byfrost directly for what he presumes is Hellboy's big solid wrist. ]

[defenceless]

[his magic heals. soothing waves soak into her chest and echo with her heart's beat, and the innate mending of it calls to the energy that's still alive in her and can be commanded to some purpose. her body shakes instantly, as though her lungs are expanding wider and she's sucking in a shallow, deep breath; skin knits together and cuts, gashes disappear. she stirs in his arms but she doesn't wake. a rough sound collected at the back of her throat results in a cough, and she doesn't choke on it, but exhales through it more robust than ever.

he can't possibly heal the corruption—even archer couldn't, simply having to wait for it to run its course—but her vital signs are better. if he stares at her complexion, she appears slightly healthier. her brow relaxes from outright pain to slumber. she would have a warmer body temperature, perhaps too hot.

her lips are flushed with a brighter color than before, and she mumbles, quite unconsciously.] Archer...? [and he will know how deep the bond between this master and her servant goes.]

[babbylon]

[He's no magus and, much as he might brag to the contrary, no miracle worker, either. He cannot combat death itself. He can keep it just enough at bay, but indeed, she'll have to recover on her own. Gilgamesh draws his hands back to properly cradle her and just sits there for a while. Longer than he should, really. This isn't his Master. This isn't his business. He's glad she isn't awake to berate him, he doesn't know if he even has the heart to argue.

He heeds her call, though she intends for another. Technically, it's still true. He'd answered to Archer, once, in a world and a war far from this one.]

Yes.

[His fingers card idly through rich, dark hair. Subtly, he expands his prana, meaning to lure the proper Archer to him as he attends her.]

Call for me, as loudly as you can. And I will come.

[anti_altruisms]

[ He felt it. Even if the message didn't quite reach him, even if contact was lost before she passed out, the danger, the ice-cold pain did register, sending a shock of rare alarm (perhaps even fear) down his spine. Michel is dead, Saber nearly destroyed herself because of the demons on the prowl, and the city is in chaos, but-- Rin.

He runs, if it can even be called running, the speed at which he takes off to find her. He has a general idea of where to go, but without much feedback from Rin, it's difficult to pinpoint her location exactly.

Except there's prana, familiar and all the more concerning for it. It spurs him to move faster, and when he does finally arrive in a flurry of red, he just barely looks composed.

Gray eyes dart from Gilgamesh (wounded) to Rin (prone but alive), and there's a roaring sound in his ears. He wants to snatch her out of the other Servants grip, and the more feral side of him wants to finish the job that has apparently been started, but there are more important things to worry about. Namely, his Master.

He stalks forward slowly, and while his stance isn't aggressive, it is agitated and expectant. He wants Rin turned over to him and now. ]

[babbylon]

Peace, Archer.

[He does not even look at the other man as he says it. He's in no mood to deal with a wild animal; he already put down one and paid the price for it. He just sits there, docile as could be, or perhaps resigned. Archer will sense Rin's pain, but he will also sense it has eased, and there reasonably could be only one person responsible for it—and thus definitively not responsible for harming her in the first place.

Archer may want her right away, but jostling her in this condition would only worsen her condition. He will have to calm down first. Gilgamesh won't hand Rin from one beast to another simply because it's growling the loudest, though he'll at least explain how they all got here.]

That elf, Koltira Deathweaver... he went out of control. I was not present for the initial attack, but he pursued Rin and fed forcibly from her.

[...however, he will ask quite directly:]

Where were you?

[anti_altruisms]

[ He stops.

It takes a great deal of self-control, but Archer manages not to lash out like the beast Gilgamesh has correctly identified him as. He has his softer moments, he can be gentle at times, but this is Rin -- not simply his Master, but someone from his past, who knows his name, whose presence brings peace to the storm that rages inside him constantly... To see her so frail and pitiful in the arms of a man who threatened and had her shoved against a war nearly has him seeing red, but he doesn't act. Not when he knows it could hurt her even more.

Fists clenched, he listens to the explanation with as much patience as he can muster. He knows Koltira, has spoken to him before, and he remembers the other's cursed existence. Eliminating him or taking any kind of revenge is a distant thought compared to the concern he feels for Rin.

To the question of where he was, he very nearly flinches. Not because he thinks Gilgamesh has any right to question or ask, but because he should have been here. It should have been him defending his Master from a threat, not an enemy Servant. ]

...she gave me leave to handle issues in the castle.

[ Specifically, one issue. He was then side-tracked by the demons and the rest of the mess in the city. It's not an excuse, and it isn't meant as one, either, but- ]

She did not call for me.

[babbylon]

[Gilgamesh does glance up now, pointedly.]

You smell of death.

[Nothing more, nothing less said on the matter. Gilgamesh doesn't ask further but, as per a Servant's superior senses, simply seems to know. With some effort, and with clear consideration shown to the body in his arms—Archer may grouse all he likes over choice of rescuer, but he's performed well enough in his self-appointed duties—Gilgamesh rises. His own injuries are already healing and so appear more worrisome than they truly are.]

She likely thought she could handle the situation on her own, but she faced an Executor—one of Kirei's ilk, if you're familiar.

[And Gilgamesh suspects he's familiar with plenty more than he is, given he comes from the future. With that same neutral expression, he then offers Rin to him.]

She's been poisoned. Corrupted from the inside out. She must rest, and she must receive prana. And...

[Gilgamesh looks to her face, peaceful for the moment, and frowns.]

...she must not know of my part in this. It is for the best.

[anti_altruisms]

[ He doesn't answer. They both know the role he's served for millenia, and there's no reason to dispute what he's done or what he was doing even a short while ago. He may smell of death, but it makes no difference. He couldn't care less about any of it, what Gilgamesh thinks, nothing. His sole focus is Rin right now, and while he does listen to the explanation, he's mute on the topic of Kirei. He doesn't care to discuss Gilgamesh's partner in crime.

Instead, he waits. The few moments it takes for Gilgamesh to explain things feels like an eternity, like he's burning through every ounce of patience and self-control he has. When Gilgamesh finally moves to hand her over, Archer takes her with, perhaps, a surprisingly amount of grace and care. He handles her like glass, like the finest, most delicate china. It's a relief as much as it is concerning to hold her; she's always been so bright and vibrant, even in his oldest, most tattered memories of her, and it's simply wrong to see her so frail.

The knot of tension in his stomach loosens only slightly when Rin is safely in his arms, and he takes a step back. He doesn't know what to say. ]

[babbylon]

[Funny. Gilgamesh couldn't really care about any of it, either, was in fact still questioning his role in this entire debacle. Maybe Rin deserved to die. Maybe she didn't. Maybe he should've stepped in and maybe he shouldn't have bothered, considering all he got out of it was traumatic blood loss, an unresponsive and ungrateful victim, and a socially inept Servant staring at him like he can magically conjure the reason he's looking for out of a hat.

Gilgamesh turns away and makes Archer's job easy: he doesn't say anything at all.]