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superhell2023-03-25 10:49 pm
hellscapes) wrote in superhell2023-03-25 10:49 pm
Entry tags:
WEEK SIX: EXECUTION
Hello, deadlings.
We gather here today for the most somber occasion. The weekend "fun" isn't over just yet.
On Sunday morning, you'll soon hear a sound coming from the dock. There's a large ferry waiting for you, and even if you resist you'll eventually find yourself compelled to climb aboard and set off on a short voyage. The islands around you look fairly blurry, but you don't go very far before you stop at a slab of land with two large buildings stationed. You won't be able to look at the one on the right now, the one you've come to know as the trial bar. Instead, your feet navigate you to the building on the left as the door creaks open. On your way in, you notice some posters hung beside the door, advertising today's event.
Inside is a bar. It's pretty swanky in comparison to the others you've seen, tables and chairs arranged comfortably for everyone to have a seat and spread out however they'd like. The bar is fully stocked with all kinds of alcohol along with an arrangement of bar food for anyone who's feeling a bit peckish. At the head of the room, there appears to be a stage washed in red lights with a wide area for performances.
At a table in the corner all six demons are gathered around. All of them appear to have left behind their work uniforms and are clustered together in a dark corner, watching the stage with various ranges of interest.
As you find your seats and get yourself something to drink, darkness begins to fill the bar and a banner unfurls over the stage.
FILBO
10AM
Enjoy the show
No matter where you look, you will find that Filbo is not amongst you. But there isn't time to look further before the lights dim and the curtains draw.
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bixing is here, sitting at a table with the last of his medkit and leaning against his crab pillow. he's fiddling with a pocketwatch in his hands, but doesn't look away from the stage. jingheng is also here unless char is betraying me in which case im going to kill them with my bare hands ]
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Lucky he's got his arms folded across his chest as he holds up the wall near Bixing; it's hard to tell that his hands are curled into tight fists, and harder still to guess at the state of his palms where his nails might be digging in.]
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1. he's definitely upset by what's happening on stage.
2. he's definitely not surprised by what's happening on stage. ]
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It makes it all the worse to have to listen to Filbo in a moment like this — not resisting, not lashing out, not making one last stand for the sake of going out with a scream instead of a whimper. Filbo, proving himself in this strange way the best of all of them, holding on to kindness and self-doubt and a strange sort of mercy to the last.
And in a way he's almost glad it's Ryn on the stage doing this. Because whatever toll it might take on Ryn, there will be an after for him, where whatever unfolds here can be mended.
There isn't going to be an after for Filbo at the end of this. And Ryn will do — he'll do what a healer should do. He'll do it right. He'll make the right choice.
He trusts in that more than he'd trust even himself, at this point.]
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she's still here, though, she's still standing right here next to him, no matter how lost in his own thoughts he is.]
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They died because I wasn't enough.
They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wasn't enough. They died because I wa
He sucks in a faint, sharp breath, and it's the only sound he makes.]
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[she mutters, resting a hand on his arm. her left hand, which - has all the fingers, actually. she holds tightly.]
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[Bless Gideon for always being so careful about which hand she puts in his field of perception.]
Ryn won't — he'll —
[He can't even finish it. Onstage, Filbo is breathing his last, and anything he could say is already moot.]
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[she murmurs.]
It's over.
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bixing's staying close by to him today - he's scooted his chair back a little more than usual, closer to thancred. it's touch week, so eventually, he does reach out and cover his hand, laying his over top of it gently and giving it a very gentle squeeze. ]
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the tightness of thancred's hand is fine. if they're a little wet, that's okay too. he keeps his hand on top of his, nudges his fingers between his knuckles lightly, not really caring if they're damp or bloodied.
very quietly: ] Give me your hand. [ and there's an unspoken please there, the gesture gentle. he remembers coming back dizzy and in pain from his own, remembers seeing the way lin's hand was cut up by glass and aching with it, the idea of one more pain caused by himself when it was all said and done.
it's almost over. it's heartwrenching, to watch filbo encourage rynlan, too. it's almost done. ]
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As the tendrils begin to constrict, and Ryn's remark begins to fade into silence, he murmurs something of his own under his breath.]
Shorel'aran, ker-m.
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well at some point hearing his own voice bixing lets out this sharp, horrible gasp and covers his mouth with both of his hands, just horrified. when he'd come, it was already too late, filbo had already...
he looks a little sick, as the scene continues, but doesn't look away, frozen like that. ]