[open] don't say it's easy to follow a process; there's nothing harder than keeping a promise

[deadelfwalking]

Date & Time: Whenever
Location: VR; halls
Characters: Koltira & you
Summary: it's hard OK
Warnings: spooky scary skeletons



A: V.R. ROOM; ACHERUS: THE EBON HOLD

[He could have used this technology to recreate his homeland of Quel'thalas. He did think about it, momentarily. But he had not seen the walls of that city for over ten years now, not since his people called themselves by another name, not since they had reinvented their entire identity and culture. Any Silvermoon he designed would be a dead memory; a smudged watercolor painting. He wasn't fit to walk those streets, anyway.

So he turned to the familiar. Acherus was a floating ziggurat, the base of operations for every death knight of the Ebon Blade. Because it began life as part of the Scourge, its decor was not inviting: the cold stone floor was inscribed with skeletal designs, and in many places it was littered with actual skeletons. Braziers of unearthly fire burned in its halls, and tattered, black drapes hung from its archways. Enormous kilns carved like skulls encircled the room, their eyes and mouths bright with blue flame.

Koltira is in the center of this room, viciously attacking a target dummy. No matter how many times he cut into the wood, no matter what poisons he feeds into the resulting cracks, the dummy does not topple or shatter. It spins from the force, its burlap sack head grinning luridly, but that's all.

Doing this keeps Koltira's mind from everything that's happened recently. He had dealt out lethal punishments before, but that was during his time as a slave. He has no regret for his decision in and of itself--some lessons must be brutally taught. But he wonders if he'll have to do it again, and how many times. He wonders how much that will change his face, how it will change the faces of those who look at him.

He impales the dummy with Byfrost, and he heaves.]

B: CORRIDORS

[Koltira tries to keep to the less populated areas of the base, but that is not an easy task. Even though the throes of his blood frenzy have passed, he still hears the pulse of the transports like a war drum in his ears, pounding, pounding, pounding. The rush of their veins thrums beneath his skin, and he stares at anyone who passes him for several more seconds than necessary. He thinks of their delicate wrists; their vulnerable ankles. He thinks of their blood in his mouth. Then, clenching his fists, he turns away.]

Comments

a!

[highhealplz]

[ It takes him just under the promised ten minutes to get there. It could have been much faster, of course, but he doesn't want to show up before Koltira is good and ready to see him. But either way he's there shortly, tugging open the door, and... wow. That's a seriously unholy place.

He steps into the room and takes a moment just to stare around himself. The skulls, the fire, the darkness... he can't imagine a more polar opposite of his own Prontera Church. But then his eyes fall onto Koltira, and he steps forward toward him. ]

Nice place.

[deadelfwalking]

You made your home. I made mine.

[He strikes again at the dummy, not even turning to look at Ashraf.]

[highhealplz]

[ He slows about ten feet off and watches Koltira at his work for a few seconds. It would have been too much to hope for that Koltira stop and speak with him directly, so he's not disappointed there.

Eventually he waves a hand toward Koltira, aligning a blessing and increasing his speed in two quick spells. ]

It's beautiful, in its way.

[deadelfwalking]

It is not beautiful.

[He scowls as he feels the blessings take hold, and strikes again at the dummy. It shudders from the force.]

It is familiar.

A

[artificing]

[Cyril is hoping to use the VR chamber to calm himself. It's hard being in such a small space with so many warm bodies full of blood that just seems to call to him. He hasn't been able to feed properly and he's fearful he might go into a frenzy at any given moment. No one here knows how to deal with him if he does...beyond trying to kill him which would just make things worse.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out the room is in use the moment he enters. The last time he was in here he hadn't bothered to set it to anything, he just wanted a quiet place to study so the sudden dark of the interior is a huge difference. Yet, somehow it seems familiar. He feels like he's seen this somewhere before but can't place it; obviously it's of little importance.

The decor is actually more distracting than the pale man waling away at the dummy. But when he does notice him he pauses, brows going up. Yet something else that seems familiar, only he can place the look of the man. At least, as far as the pale skin and long pointed ears go. He looks very much like an Aman Elek, Cursed Earthborn. The armor on the other hand is strange.

Watch the elf is, at least, good distraction from his hunger for the moment.]

That's one tough dummy. [He finally comments when Koltira puts his sword through it.]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira glances up at the stranger; shrugs.]

It behaves in accordance with its design. Like everything else here.

[artificing]

[Cy crosses his arms and raises a brow.] I wouldn't say everything around here runs as it should.

In any case, I suppose I'll let you get back to beating the hell out of the dummy there. Sorry to have disturbed you. [He turns back toward the door before pausing and looking around again.]

Ah, before that, what is this place?

b

[miscreant]

[After her conversation with Chloe (in addition to what Koltira had said to her as he drove Byfrost through her side), she had done quite a bit of thinking. Most of her conclusions had ended up at the same places -- that she would, once again, need to make peace with living with her pain as she had while imprisoned in Icecrown. In a way, it was almost ironic if she stood around and thought about it long enough -- all that was missing was the looming threat of Arthas in the distance.

But he was gone, and the siren's call had silenced. Now she only had her own mind to run from. It should have been easy, with how overly sensitive she felt toward every sign of life. After living with the urge for a few years, she imagined the need would have been easier to ignore. As it turned out it wasn't, no doubt due to the fact that she indulged so often to keep it silenced.

The sound of plate boots in front of her drags her out of her thoughts enough to look up and meet Koltira's eyes as he turns. Instinctively, her spine stiffens, and inwardly she immediately kicks herself for letting surprise get the better of her reflexes.

She chews on her tongue for a fraction of a second as she forces her posture to relax before parroting a greeting in an empty tone:]

Commander.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira stares her down. He hasn't seen her since her revival, and not by accident, either.]

Brightwing. Minding yourself, I trust?

[miscreant]

And others of course, Commander.

[Her tone doesn't change and she manages to keep herself from folding her arms. At least she's capable of at least looking like an obedient soldier, even if she doesn't quite sound like one.

Her smile is stiff, but its there.]

And you are well, I trust?

[astraia]

[It should repel her, probably. The entire room looks like a celebration of death. Instead, it intrigues her; it draws her in, until she's surrounded by bright-eyed skulls.

She steps lightly, feet barely touching the ground; she doesn't want to disturb him, when he's striking like that. Lose concentration for a moment and you can do something you'll regret.

But she watches, solemn and silent.]

[deadelfwalking]

[Death is absolutely the central design tenet of Acherus, and of any place built by the Scourge. It's not that Koltira likes it, exactly, but it's what he's come to know as his own.

Nearly a full minute passes before Koltira notices his observer. Once he feels the eyes on him, though, he stops. Turns.]

And you are?

[astraia]

[Phoenix is on the tip of her tongue.]

Jean. [A faint, rueful smile.] Sorry. I didn't want to disturb you.

corridors-- thanks for using my fave song uvu

[totallytrustworthy]

[Koltira was right. About her, about what she was ready and willing to go through with-- she might not've been ready to believe it, but he was-- and before she bites down on that bullet, she needs...

Christ, she doesn't know.

But it's a massive step ahead of her, and she'd rather it not be one made without him.]

You look like you've seen better days, mate. [There's a tap at his arm when she says it, light and easy and as sincere a greeting as she can manage, all things considered.]

[deadelfwalking]

[He shrugs.]

I always do.

[totallytrustworthy]

--aside from the whole night of the living dead gig. [You ass.]

A

[moralperil]

[Mahdi gives a small round of applause.

He tries so hard to seem like there's nothing much on his mind, but that's rarely the case, of course. Lately there's so much confusion, tied up in knots with things like love and affection, but perhaps even worse than that a burgeoning sense of alienation. To love humans, after all, is to understand how completely inhuman you are: to not understand the difference between lies and jokes and just telling stories to pass the time, to not understand the obsessions with who loves who and what gender they are, to not understand nuclear war and leaving behind entire populations. Mahdi tries to accept it all without questioning it: lately, he's working very hard to render assistance without judgement on the morality of others. Yet trying to behave this way is exhausting.

He goes to the VR to relax, to try and mend the homesickness that has torn at the loose thread in his heart until it's torn almost entirely open. The home created here is not beautiful enough, and it is not populated by the ones Mahdi is so sure he'll never get to see. This one is taken, and he knows Koltira would probably prefer his privacy, but Koltira's soul, toxic and tragic as it is, is almost a comfort. It has just a slightly different hue, a different whine than the ones he's usually around. So he stays.

Mahdi is wearing the dress he's still failed to return to Ahiru (she's away doing missions, she won't miss it): brightly colored with a floral pattern, a bit high cut. Not that Koltira even notices those kinds of things, probably, but Mahdi is suddenly aware of the bareness of his legs and smooths fingers over skirt nervously.]

Good job, I think you killed it.

[A sheepish little smile.]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira doesn't blink at the dress -- his own people, of both genders, wear garments much more extravagant than that on a regular basis -- but he does stop his assault on the dummy.]

An impossibility.

[Yeah, he knows Mahdi's got jokes. But Koltira doesn't.]

[moralperil]

Unless you were the one who chopped down the tree to make the dummy. And even so, I guess it's virtual reality so it doesn't count...

[A quiet chuckle, a shake of the head.]

So, how have you been? I mean aside from doing a great job with that dummy?

[Mahdi can easily guess the answer but that's not how these things work.]

B

[hornedomen]

[There were only two places around here that Ico would not explore, the uninhabitable areas and the VR rooms. The corridors were neither of those and so Ico was there. There were less people, which made it an ideal place to play with toys. He wound the gears of a toy and he followed it while it walked on its own.]

Koltira? Are you okay?

[He had not seen him for a while. It surprised him. Ico turned around to follow his friend, leaving his toy behind.]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira pauses as Ico calls out to him, lifting his head, though he doesn't face the boy.]

I am fine, Ico. You need not concern yourself with me.

[hornedomen]

It's been a long time.

[Though Koltira said he was fine, he did not believe him. He walked around so he could try to see his face.]

Is it Byfrost?

B.

[theguideless]

Koltira!

[he calls for him once he sees his back; even from that distance he knows it's him. he speeds up to a trot, his hands held in front of him, as if carrying something delicately cupped between them.]

Wait for me, I want to show you something!

[deadelfwalking]

[It's Martin, so Koltira does wait--naturally. He even turns on his heel, his expression as curious as it can possibly be.]

Oh?

[theguideless]

Look. [he's breathless, having caught up, but he's quick to open up his hands and expose one sad, limp little paper crane.

napkin crane. crane out of napkin.

he notices the drooping neck and pinches it back up into place.]

I remembered how to do it. Even after all this time, I remembered. [and he's really happy with the fact, it seems.]