[OPEN] i get the feeling that it's two against one

[deadelfwalking]

Date & Time: Jan 7 - 11
Location: Across the icy wilderness
Characters: Koltira, perhaps you
Summary: Maddened elf seeks large supply of blood, suffering
Warnings: gore; sadistic grossness


[There's something howling in the wilderness lately, and it's distinct from the wolves, from the yeti, from any other predator stalking the area around the city. This sound is a bestial keening, agonized and ragged, echoing and tortured. It's a sound of helpless madness, of uncontrollable rage, and its force lingers in the winter wind. Anyone who follows the howl, whether purposely or by accident, might come across a trail. Initially, they'll find animal corpses killed cleanly, with a single, precise cut. Caribou, at first, partially and purposefully skinned, as though harvested by a mindful hunter.

But the kills become progressively grisly as the trail continues -- mutilated bears, gutted arctic wolves. There's no sense of care in these later kills; the entrails are shredded, wrenched and twisted like wet rags. Blood spatters the snow in random, violent arcs. The animals' bodies are in strangely advanced stages of decay, and their semi-rotted flesh glows faintly green.

Or you may find no trail at all. You may find an animal's foreleg, snapped at each joint. You may find a crushed eyeball, smeared like jelly across the snow.

Or you may find no trace whatsoever. You may simply find someone near you, crouching, his white hair streaked red, his mouth dark and shining and wet. Grinding his teeth. Standing up. Advancing towards you, as the snow hisses, as the earth turns black and dead under his boots.]

Comments

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan remains right where he is, watching Koltira from the outside, through the open door. He'd taken the first opportunity he had to change the subject but the word 'connection' still echoes in his head, and he's been contemplating it the whole journey here, even through the chatter about stars and winters and whatever the hell else he'd managed to warp into small talk. So he thinks about what Koltira said, and watches Koltira now.

He seems to be watching a terribly lonely existence.

Bariyan enters the cabin slowly, shutting the door behind him. He spots the hearth and move towards it. ]

Mind if I light this?

[ Koltira may be dead and unfeeling, but Bariyan's freezing. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira directs him to the poker; coal; etc.]

Do as you will. The boy will appreciate the warmth when he returns.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan starts to gather the necessary materials. He blinks. ]

The boy?

[deadelfwalking]

[He gestures to the room beside the one for Bariyan; it's empty at present, but fully furnished. In fact, it's the cabin's most complete space, with a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and several lit wall sconces.]

I look after a child. Martin.

[stonefaith]

Ah. Martin Darkov? I've met him.

[ Bariyan busies himself with the hearth again. He gets a fire going and allows himself the luxury of lingering by it for a few moments, holding out his hands, taking slow breaths of relief. Oh, that feels good. Light. He wants to put his face in it.

He wonders, briefly, if he ought to be worried about a death knight looking after a child -- and decides he shouldn't. He trusted the Ebon Blade with his life. He'll trust Koltira with Martin's. ]

One moment.

[ Reluctantly, Bariyan draws himself away from the fire, and moves left to find the spare room that Koltira had spoken of. ]

[deadelfwalking]

Yes, I know.

[It's got a bed, as promised, but that's about it. The bed itself is sturdy, made of the same elegantly carved wood as everything else in the cabin, and covered with fresh sheets and pillows. Koltira intended it for travelers lost in the wilderness.

He doesn't glance up as Bariyan explores; he's fixed on working through a particularly delicate part of this pattern, similar in shape to a fleur-de-lis.]

[stonefaith]

[ Damn. Bariyan whistles, impressed by the fact that there's a bed at all. Then he spends a few minutes contemplating the fact that Koltira had spent days wandering the snow in a miserable, bloodthirsty rage, clawed his face open, recovered, and came straight back to this quiet, secluded cabin to pick up on some unfinished woodwork -- and that was it. As if nothing had happened. As if nothing were wrong.

Bariyan drops his pack, sets his axe down against the wall, and begins the slow process of shedding his armor. It doesn't seem that he'll be needing it after all.

When he's done, he walks back into the main room and keeps walking around it, running his hands along the walls, observing. He doesn't say anything. Bariyan's just about exhausted himself of conversation topics. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Without looking up:]

You are disquieted. What for.

[stonefaith]

You, of course. You're... [ To put it harshly, Koltira seems miserable. Sure, Bariyan hasn't caught Koltira at a good time -- but there's a wrongness to this situation that goes beyond the inherent wrongness of him being a death knight. Something that speaks of a bigger problem.

Koltira had just spent days in frenzy, and when he'd come out of it, the only thing he had waiting for him was this empty building and a paladin with a bad habit of sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Nothing else. No one to contact, to reassure. No one looking for him. No one waiting for him.

There was Martin, Bariyan supposes, but Martin was just one other. And a dependent child, at that.

Bariyan turns to face Koltira. ]

Are you happy? --No. Don't answer that. That's not what I meant to ask. I mean... are you...

[ Bariyan runs his hands through his hair, struggles for words. ]

Are you all right?

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira scowls at his woodwork, but he keeps at it -- forcing himself to go slowly, delicately, so as to keep the pattern intact.]

No. I am not all right. I should think that obvious.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan stops in front of the hearth and decides this is as good a place to sit as any. So he seats himself with his back to the fire. ]

It is. That's why I'm asking. [ The words stopped making sense as soon as they left Bariyan's mouth, but he let them go, anyway. ] How long have you been here, Koltira?

[deadelfwalking]

On this island? A year and a half, or thereabouts.

[stonefaith]

And... and... what do you...

[ Bariyan scratches furiously at his head, like a dog getting at an itch. It's hard to put into words the source of his discomfort, hard to communicate.

Then it clicks. Bariyan freezes. ]

You have your brothers back home. The Ebon Blade. Who do you have here?

[deadelfwalking]

[His mouth twists. The stylus in his hand goes still.

There's Seviilia, of course. His sister, by technicality. His problem and responsibility, in truth.]

... Nothing. Nothing, anymore.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan folds his hands in his lap.

He stays silent for a long while. What more can he say? What more could he ask? Nothing that would help either of them. He feels, now, the extent of their distance; the same chasm that lies between Bariyan and every man or woman who has ever flickered in and out of his life before he could reach them.

Bariyan bows his head. ]

I see.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira returns to his work. Bariyan's withdrawal is easy enough to see. Fine, then.]

There are other death knights here. One is passive; quiet. The other is -- a problem. Direct your efforts towards them.

[stonefaith]

[ Uh-huh. Bariyan continues to stare at the ground, but narrows his eyes. He can identify problems well enough on his own, and the biggest one here seems to be sitting in front of him.

He entertains this line of conversation anyway. ]

I've only met one of them. Seviilia?

[deadelfwalking]

[He makes an irritated noise in his throat.]

Yes. The problem. She has no respect for the living.

[He sets aside the woodwork; it's nearly done now. The pattern is intricate, ornate, and precise: the wood now just needs to be polished and sanded. Later.

For now, he stands up and opens his cupboards, pulls down vegetables and other things suitable in making stew.]

I have spent most of the last few months keeping in her line. As a result, I neglected my own curse.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan looks up then. ]

Oh? Is that what led you to... [ He finishes the sentence by holding up his hands and flexing his fingers, in and out, like claws. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Irritably, as he slices up carrots on the table.]

Yes. I had been in control for the better part of a year, up until her arrival. She killed innocents without thought.

She thinks -- [slice.] that free will -- [slice.] means the right to slaughter anyone she meets.

But indulging in such things keeps us enslaved to what we are. Keeps the Lich King's hold tight.

[slice.]

[stonefaith]

[ Whistle. ]

That does sound like a problem, yes. [ Bariyan looks back into his lap again, examines his nails. Blunt and broken. He murmurs. ]

Are you delegating her to me, or merely trying to divert my attention elsewhere?

[deadelfwalking]

[Firmly.]

She is my subordinate, and therefore my responsibility. But you seem to enjoy the company of the dead.

[stonefaith]

It's true. I've been enjoying the company of the dead for the better part of my life. [ Bariyan looks up at Koltira from under his bangs and grins. ] Thank you for the thought. I suppose I'll have to pay her a house visit, someday.

[deadelfwalking]

[Dumping vegetables & meat etc into a pot.]

Glad to oblige.

[stonefaith]

[ Bariyan's really hoping some of that stew is for him. Really hoping. Praying-to-the-Light hoping. ]

One of my roommates was a dead man, too. [ Huh. Bariyan hasn't seen Marduk in a while. He should probably check in on that. Bariyan pulls his arms up over his head and stretches. ] He didn't like me much.