WEEK SIX: EXECUTION

[hellscapes]

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.

TODAY'S PERFORMER:
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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Comments

[onlythans]

[All told, there's only been one execution that he hasn't stood and watched to completion. It's something of — not a matter of pride, obviously, but at least of a sort of twisted honor. You don't get the right to avert your eyes from the consequences of your choices. You don't get to spare yourself the realities of the things you've done.

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.]

[cavaliered]

[she's very quiet as filbo's shadow gets louder, and she does, actually, close her eyes and hunch down when the cacophony starts, biting her lip so hard she makes it bleed.

she's still here, though, she's still standing right here next to him, no matter how lost in his own thoughts he is.]

[onlythans]

[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 wasn't enough. They died because I wa

He sucks in a faint, sharp breath, and it's the only sound he makes.]

[cavaliered]

Hey.

[she mutters, resting a hand on his arm. her left hand, which - has all the fingers, actually. she holds tightly.]

[onlythans]

'Twill be over soon.

[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.]

[cavaliered]

I know. Breathe.

[she murmurs.]

It's over.