epidemiology | the danger is i'm dangerous

Entry tags:

the danger is i'm dangerous

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.]

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[The busker puts up a fight. She scrabbles against Koltira's arms, trying to find purchase, trying to shove him away. It's no use. He's fully armored, and he's too strong. He stares the woman down, his eyes empty, aching. Why was he doing this, again? She had insulted him. But no. That wasn't the truth of it. The truth is that she's alive, and she was too close, and it hurts so, so much.

He barely glances up when Alice comes into the alley. The knife glints, and his eyes dart towards it briefly, then away. He presses the busker against the alley's dirty brick wall; she cries out as her back scrapes against the rough stone.

He says nothing.]

[ Alice considered that a sufficient enough warning, hoping to deter his attention onto her, not the poor woman. His features may look familiar to Alice as she did what she could in that split moment to look him over, for a week spot. Armor isn't an issue usually, but Alice isn't feeling particularly kind and her temper finally flares. Now, clearly bellowing loud enough- ]

Let her go!

[ Looking back, she wishes she could have done more to help Nanny, rather than stand there frightened and dumbfounded at the audacity of Jack Splatter, Alice makes the haphazard and dangerous choice to rush forward. Enraged, her well-being didn't matter; what mattered to her that she could free this poor woman and become the vocal point of that attention. Alice is small, which is arguably her largest disadvantage, but that didn't matter to her, she throws herself at him with her knife, hoping at the very least it can be hard enough to push him away and off of her. In her mind, it's worth a try, even if the vorpal blade in all of it's sharp and indestructible nature may not always cut through armor. ]

[Koltira's armor is saronite, the hardened blood of an old god. It's a rare metal, unusually tough and resilient--but by no means impenetrable. Alice's knife cuts, finds a way in. Black, hissing blood pours from Koltira's left side as he stumbles back, surprised by the sudden ferocity of Alice's assault. The busker crumples, albeit only for a second. She looks from Koltira to Alice, clutching at her throat, trying to regain her breath.

Koltira, meanwhile, recovers quickly. Base instinct rules his mind at present; reason is almost entirely chained. He does not see a young girl before him: he sees weak flesh, dark veins, excited breath. He sees vitality.

The busker hisses something about freaks once she's able to, then gets to her feet and fairly races out of the alley.

Just them, now.

Koltira draws the sword from his back. Blood continues to pour from his wounded side, trickling down his armor and smoking where it drips onto the ground.]

[ With a predatory gaze, Alice shifts herself in front of the other woman as means to shield her. Green eyes darting between the busker and him, Alice waits for her to take her leave, only to crudely flick blood off the vorpal blade's edge. By then, Alice was shaking, from both anger and her own adrenaline pumping through her slender body. In retrospect, having a knife against a sword isn't exactly smart and it makes it even more difficult for Alice to possibly land a blow in.

But it's not time to take out the hobby horse quite yet, the large weapon was heavy, not suited for a situation where Alice had to be quick. As a matter of fact, even in her near blind rage, Alice harbors a sense of satisfaction for landing a blow, a slither of sadistic pride. Long hair falling into her face and knees bent, Alice falls into a stance, ready to sprint in either direction. A fight never crossed her mind and now she was going to have to ensure that he would at least leave. ]

Do you think you can attack people as you please? Go back where you came from.

[ It's not enough of a gauge, there's not enough time to evaluate her opponent's movements. It was another situation where Alice would be rushing into it blindly, like a feral creature. In short, she was going to have to find out the hard way. She wouldn't falter, her bravery and stubbornness blinding her at that moment, Alice shows little hesitation after a moment's pause to attack him with with attempts to slash him. ]

[Alice's rage is a palpable thing. Koltira perceives her as a thrumming, vital force; she is sharply bright in his mind's eye, standing out in stark relief to the silent, inert stone walls on either side of them. He runs his tongue over his dagger-sharp canines. Before him is not a person. The busker was not a person, either. They are both just means to an end. Just signifiers; symbols of life; something for him to devour. Something to make the pain stop.

When she rushes him again, he's ready. Not only does he bring the enormous sword up to parry, but its blade flares blinding blue, smoking with icy energy. Frost-rimed chains burst from the ground at Alice's feet, snaking rapidly towards her ankles, her wrists. They attempt to lash her, to bind her in place.]

[ She recognized him, slightly, forgetting the nagging feeling of something telling her there was something familiar about his face. That didn't matter to Alice; her temper was flaring, getting the better of her in this situation. It's hard for her to fight against larger opponents, because they do end up being stronger than she expects. Her feet skid as her knife freely clashes against his sword.

That's expected, she went in with her blind fury, wildly swinging at him to see what happened. But the icy energy- ]

You're from the cave?

[ It finally dawns on Alice, just as she feels her limbs being pulled into place. A moment of panic washes over Alice as she gives her right hand a violent jerk in an attempt to use her knife to cut her binds. Peering back at him through the hair that's fallen over her face, Alice curls the corners of her lips upward.

You can't hold me.

In that moment of panic and rage, she forgot that she wasn't always bound by a physical form. She dissolves, in a flurry of blue butterflies, drawing herself backwards, away from the chains in a more defensive position. Charging at him with just a knife wasn't the best course of action, but now Alice is more reluctant to come closer, as long as he has magic like that. And, more importantly, dodging in that matter could take a physical toll on her, as indicated with Alice briefly catching her breath, stepping backwards, almost out of the alley, with just her knife held up. ]

[The cave. Images surface, incomplete and pale, but definite: the monster with many legs. The girl, running. The knife. Koltira is suddenly, briefly uncertain. He stares at her as though he can't make sense of her, like she's a puzzle piece that he can't quite make fit.

The effort fails: fresh jolts of agony slice through his legs, up into his stomach, across the soft, still organs in his body. Spiking in his sluggish blood. He runs a hand down his face, and his clawed gauntlets leave thin trails of black blood in their wake.

He can't think. He cannot reason. He has to make it stop. He has to make everything stop.

(The butterflies are beautiful, blue like the spring sky in Eversong Woods, shimmering and bright.)

(He can't think about that now.)

(He can't think.)]

Run.

[He snarls it, even as he advances.]

[ It was rather interesting, to watch him like that. It was almost as if he was literally torn, she was assuming. Maybe there was a slight pang of pity in her; Alice had the capacity to be cruel, but she had just as much of a capacity to be compassionate. It was still beyond her comprehension, whatever had provoked him. It takes everything in her not to sneer at him, it's easier for Alice to try and emotionally disconnect from the situation.

He was hurting an innocent person and watching that poor woman get dragged down the wall was enough for her to snap. Her resolve didn't waver, only her anger as her mind raced with questions. ]

You first.

[ It wasn't the smartest thing to say, was it? Still holding her ground firm, Alice drew another breath of air, as if to prepare herself, if he chose to ram into her the same as she did. Her warnings, no doubt, would fall on deaf ears. ]

I won't let you harm anyone else. You take your leave.

[Escaping the city was his goal. He had never meant for any of this happen. But he had underestimated the situation, and overestimated himself. He thought he could manage this, control it, stay focused.

He was wrong.

He stares down Alice, and he can think only of the blood in her veins. Saying nothing, he curls his fingers into a fist. Shadowy, purplish black energy swirls around his hand, and then the spell is cast: a dark incantation that encircles Alice's throat, chokes her, and lifts her several feet off of the ground.]

[ At that moment, Alice was on the balls of her feet, debating whether or not she should even strike again. She was still shaking, stressed and her green eyes boring into him, waiting. She just couldn't get a read on him, she couldn't predict his movements and that made it difficult. Those precious seconds of trying to evaluate him cost her.

But he moves quicker than anticipated, even before Alice is seconds from dodging out of the way. It's hard to dodge once her throat is being restricted. Yelping in surprise, her free hand tries to claw at whatever is holding her throat, the other still clutching on her knife, seconds before Alice drops it. Once she hears it clatter against the ground, another wave of panic goes through her. Even when Alice is being strangled, she's determined to put up a fight, gritting teeth and struggles to free herself.

She tries to speak, her voice coming out as a gasp for air. ]

[The spell does not last long, but in the space between its casting and Alice's struggling, Koltira is in front of her. He grabs her by the throat and yanks her back down to the ground with one hand; with his other hand, he reaches for the dropped knife. He's rarely seen a weapon that can cut his armor so easily, and he can recognize that uniqueness even in this bestial state.

He presses the flat of the knife, hard, against her chest.]

You did not listen.

[His voice is wild, anguished.]

You did not listen to me.

[ She's so small, already so thinned and weathered. Barely a whimper of pain manages to escape her throat, as her green eyes burn through him angrily. She still tries to put up a fight, struggling in his grip. Much smaller hands grip around his, sinking her nails into his skin as hard as she can.

She knew she shouldn't have dropped her knife, she knew. But as soon as it's pressed against her chest, she feels even more air sucked out of her slender body. The smallest noise of pain and anger emits from Alice's throat. Still, even as she felt some strength being depleted from her, even as her mind was screaming at her to keep fighting and her hatred of touch, Alice wanted to make a point she wouldn't go quietly. She would press her nails as hard as she could to draw blood.

She could barely talk. What happened to her didn't matter, she would say she didn't care, though that wasn't true, even as she tried to push. Alice strains again, trying to wiggle free- ]

You were hurting her...!

[ Her voice just a whisper. She couldn't leave, she didn't trust him enough to leave. How many more people would he hurt? It was better that she'd be the vocal point of his wrath than innocent people. ]

[Alice's nails scrape against Koltira's plate gauntlets, leaving white scars in their wake. The noise resounds in the tight space of the alley, a high, metallic screech that seems to jar Koltira's consciousness. He frowns, becomes uneasy.

The wisp of Alice's voice slips through. He drops her, gracelessly, and stumbles away--dropping the knife with a clatter as he does so. He covers his face with one hand, heaving, his thoughts a wild, jagged jumble. He doesn't want this. He protected this girl, before. Didn't he? Was that even the same person? Even a real person?]

Let me pass.

[He growls into his own hand.]

Let me flee the city.

[ Between the struggling and the constriction of her breathing, Alice falls to the ground hard, strength momentarily leaving her body. Hair in her face, she tries to muster up the strength to push off from the ground, almost left in a panic. She had to move, she had to jump back on her feet and defend herself. Floating between nearly fainting and gasping for air desperately, she almost doesn't hear him, at first. His words barely register.

My knife! Where's my knife?! Hair in her face, Alice tries to look for her knife in the dark alley, reaching for it against the hard gravel. She just can't move, not yet, and she hates it. She had been through worse -- much worse. So why did it take longer to get back on her feet. At last, those words register.

Truly, there was pity there. There was clearly a struggle in him, something didn't seem right, at all. But Alice was back to being the small, defenseless child that she was in Rutledge. And once she sees the glint of the vorpal blade, she immediately seizes it, grasping it tightly around the handle and pulls it to herself. She would cut his Achilles tendons, she thought, if he even cared approached her. Still gasping desperately for air, Alice peered back up at him, bracing herself, just in case, he decided to do something with her, again. After all, didn't they always? No one could really ever leave her alone. ]

How can I trust you... How?!

[ Alice manages almost a shout, now shifting on almost all four of her limbs like a feral animal, now with her knife back in her possession. ]

If you want to leave, then leave and don't turn back!

Edited 2016-02-04 02:41 (UTC)

[Truth is, she can't trust him. He'd say that even if this were a normal conversation. He pushes people away because he's well aware of what he is. What he's capable of. What he's already done.

Alice's struggle to breathe satisfies something cold and terrible inside of him. When he was alive, Koltira lead a peaceful life: eyes like summer morning, days of banquets and lilies and a forest where it was always spring. He cultivated virtue, and practiced it even during the worst parts of the Scourge invasion.

But the runeblades that murdered him left more than a scar across his stomach. The ritual that brought him back did not make him as he was once was. Chains lingered in him now, chains of hard steel and black ice. When Koltira looks at Alice--as when he looks at anyone--he sees double.

First, a girl. Afraid, angry; in need of comfort and compassion.

Second, a girl. Afraid, angry; fit to be devoured.

He slams his fist against the stone wall, as though heaping pain on pain will keep his mind clear. Already his reason threatens to slip beyond his reach.]

Let me pass. Chase me to the city limit if you must, but I cannot go with you barring the way.

[Unholy energy flares around his boots. If she will not move, he will charge.]

[ Barring? Well, not intentionally, not as Alice as still trying to get away from him. She hated it, she didn't want to point out or say "I can't move because of you". But the sneer she gives him is the closest she gets to it.

She wasn't about to linger close to him, revulsion and logic pushing her further away. She was still trying to catch her breath and stabilize her body again. No matter how dizzy she was, she shrunk away, but not in the least bit confident in him to allowing her to safely recollect herself. So, the vorpal blade still remained held in her hand, Alice gritting her teeth.

Even if Alice was complying, it was taking quite a bit of restraint on her part to keep her anger in check. ]

Barring?

[ As unstable as her feet are on the ground at that moment and no matter how dizzy she is, Alice's response is nearly a scream as she grits her teeth. She can't quell her temper enough not to slice the vorpal blade as she pushes away from him, still shaking in her rage.

How she would want nothing more than to plunge her knife in flesh and twist it.

Physically, she can't. At the risk of her own life, she can't keep him. Then what would Gintoki do?

Still, even if Alice reluctantly complied, she still held the knife upward, waiting for him to back on his word. Lips twisting in a mix of disgust and a dark smile, she hisses- ]

Go, then.

[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.]

[ 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. ]

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