it's a bad, bad ritual [ open ]

[respired]

CHARACTERS: Koltira, perhaps you
DATE: Anytime during the Oska stay
WARNINGS: blood'n'guts
SUMMARY: FRENZY, for the very last time



i. the woods - frenzy;

[ Last year, a desert. An endless, barren expanse, broken only with patches of scrub and unfortunate bandit camps. Now: trees, rivers, shadows. Some wildlife, but hardly enough to satisfy. Koltira ranges here and there, cutting a rotted path through the underbrush: trees smoke and decay in his wake, their bark melting into a surreal, acidic syrup. The forest is not well populated, but what he finds he does not leave intact. A gutted deer, a wingless bird. Blood smears the grass, darkens the moss, though most of it his own--the result of clawing, frantically, at his own body, an effort to satisfy the curse with some kind of violence, even if only against himself.

He is both hypervigilant and completely unreachable in this state. If he senses movement, he attacks swiftly, without prejudice or hesitation. Sword drawn, jaw clenched, rage unending. ]

ii. aftermath - lake;

[ Eventually, whether through time or some other, more efficient intervention, Koltira collapses by the edge of the lake. He presses his cheek to the banks, heaving, his nerves still shot through with pain. But he's got his mind back. His wounds ooze, turning the sand to sludge. He stares ahead, dull-eyed, and he knows one thing with stark clarity: this cannot go on.

And, no matter what he has to do, it won't. ]

Comments

ii.

[fateality]

[From a distance, he'd watched as much as he could through Destiny. He knew the time was coming, and as soon as they returned to Oska he kept his distance. Maybe it was an assumption or an observation, but Twisted Fate felt like it was the right thing to do. Anything else would have just made it worse for Koltira.

When he heard his voice, strained as it was, on the network... well. That cemented it. So he watched, waiting anxiously for it to be done.

It's about all he could do.

When it is over, or at least it looks like it is, he doesn't waste anytime. Ignoring his pounding headache -- something he can remedy quickly enough anyway -- he transports himself all but a few feet from Koltira. The air pops, the pressure increasing before he appears, and he lets out an uneasy sigh.

For a moment, he doesn't feel like Twisted Fate. It's Tobias Foxtrot, standing there, hoping, holding out his hand.]

Hey. Sweetheart.

[respired]

[ Koltira lifts his head, with effort. His last visitor hadn't skimped on the punishment, and he's got blood all over his face, his chest and arms. He's slick with it, gore-caked, crusted over. He groans, pressing his forehead to the sand. ]

Don't look at me.

[fateality]

Too bad. I've been lookin', anyway.

[Normally, the grime would bother him to the point of keeping him away, being the dandy that he is. Instead, he doesn't think much of it, shrugging off his coat and placing it over Koltira's shoulders.]

I don't want to be away any longer than I got to, Tira. Let me see you.

[respired]

[ He struggles to sit up, but he gets there eventually. His armor's cracked, his hair in disarray, and he's thrown Byfrost off to the side. It's half-submerged in lake water, its runes dimming and brightening as the tide licks at the blade.

Koltira meets Fate's eye, but his lips are swollen, his cheek scored with black lacerations. He looks--accurately so--beat straight to hell. ]

It is worse than usual.

[ To look at him, he means. ]

[fateality]

[Gently, Twisted Fate reaches out, his fingers moving through blood-encrusted, tangled hair, his palm moving down to lightly press against Koltira's cheek.

Then, he summons his healing magic that he has finally mastered.]

I can see that.

But you're still beautiful in my eyes. That won't change.

[respired]

[ Koltira winces in pain as the magic does its work--no matter the origin, his body abhors healing. But the spell is effective, nevertheless. His flesh grows, his bones mend, his tissues crawl, agonizingly, back into one piece.

He mutters. ]

You're a true romantic, Tobias.

[fateality]

Yeah, well. You bring it out of me.

[Not that he's wrong.

His other hand smooths down to cup Koltira's other cheek.]

But I ain't kissin' you til we get you a bath. Just so we're clear.

[respired]

[ He rumbles, shaking his head. ]

I would expect no less.

[ With some effort, he manages to sit up. He leans back, putting his weight on his elbows, his expression still a horrible grimace. ]

Tobias ... I have something for you.

[ The pouches on his waist are still intact. He's still intact. It's not exactly a romantic atmosphere, but he's only ever been someone who stumbles into that kind of thing accidentally. He reaches into one of the pouches, rummages for a moment, and then withdraws a small, gold and silver ring. ]

If you'd give me your hand.

[fateality]

[While Twisted Fate is a true sucker for the overly romantic, somehow he knows that if anyone would present him with this one of them would be covered in blood. And even then, he's all right with that.

Because the fact it happens at all is enough.

It's a rare moment Fate is quiet, his brows raised and a little startled. He did ask for this, but he wasn't really sure when...]

Here.

[His hand, carefully offered to Koltira.]

[respired]

I've had this finished for a while.

[ He takes Fate's hand, holding it just for a second, entwining their fingers. ]

I was waiting for a good time.

[ He looks 'round, then down at himself, recognizing the deep irony the situation. When he looks up, he's got the ring with him, he's slipping it onto Fate's finger. ]

But I'm tired of waiting.

[fateality]

[There's a surge of emotions, and normally Twisted Fate can stifle them down without any real issue. He's not a particularly impulsive man, and he'd rather take a seat back and plan his actions.

It's downright impossible here. Fate places a free hand over his mouth, quiet a moment, but he's smiling to himself hard enough that it hurts.

He knows what he said earlier, mostly jovial about it, that he wouldn't kiss him because Koltira's a mess, but he completely forgets about it. The hand with the ring on it takes Koltira's, squeezing tight before Fate cups the other man's cheek with his free palm. Leaning in, he kisses Koltira, unflustered.]

[respired]

[ Koltira sighs against the kiss, lifting his blood-and-sand smeared hand to Fate's cheek. He's filthy, undeniably so, and he regrets that, regrets everything about the past twenty-four hours and most of this moment, too. But not the ring. Not the kiss. Not the look on Fate's face.

He mutters. ]

Does this mean you like it?

[fateality]

[That makes Fate laugh quietly, pressing his forehead against Koltira's.]

Whatever gave you that idea?

[He rubs his thumb across Koltira's jawline.]

I love it, sweetheart. Hell, I love you.

[respired]

I love you, too, Tobias.

[ He squeezes Fate's hand, brings Fate's open palm up to his cool, dry lips. Presses a kiss there; soft, but earnest. ]

Thank you. For everything.

[fateality]

Goes both ways, I promise.

[He lets out a sigh, content, despite everything. Then, he smiles wryly, brushing hair back from Koltira's face.]

Let's get you in a bath, all right?

[respired]

[ Koltira manages a weak smile. ]

Planning to carry me back to the castle?

[fateality]

I can damn well try. [Fate chuckles.]

C'mon, I'm not all skin an' bones.

[respired]

I'll believe it when I see it.

[ He brushes Fate's hair back from his face. ]

But no need to try it now. I'll get blood all over your fine clothes.

[fateality]

My clothes are arguably disposable. You aren't.

[He closes his eyes and leans into the brief cool touch from Koltira.]

But I guess I can wait when you got your footing again.

[respired]

[ He tries on Fate's accent. It sounds weird, but look, he's tired. ]

Much obliged.

[fateality]

[That makes him laugh, reaching up to gently tweak at Koltira's cheek.]

That's almost cute, all that blood aside.

[More warmly, he adds:] I'm glad to have you back for awhile.

[respired]

[ He's glad, too, for as much as the old guilt will come down on him later. No need to talk about that now, though. Instead, he just draws Fate in, holding him close and tight--no longer mindful of his mess. If Fate says he doesn't care, then Koltira's just going to take him at his word.

It's been a long couple of years. ]

Perhaps you can have me back for much longer than that. If you'd like to accompany me home.

[fateality]

[He would normally loathe the filth, but more than that he's just glad to have Koltira back. No amount of personal effects could be more important than him right now.]

Hm? Well. I don't reckon I've got much reason to go back to Runeterra. So it's not like it's a hard choice.

[Fate smiles wryly.] If you think you can put up with me for the rest of our lives.

[respired]

[ He presses his (blood-caked, grime-smeared) forehead to Fate's. They can take a bath together later. ]

The rest of mine, certainly.

[ Which means, of course: forever. ]