aionlogs | EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (GODSBLOOD)

Entry tags:

EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (GODSBLOOD)

Sovereign Citizens

GODSBLOOD

At the height of the Sovereign's moon, Vaeka Lovenskol's execution is announced. Outside of the City Hall, a dignitary of Achamoth is flanked by an entourage of Kenoma, reading the words of Regent from an unfurled letter: Vaeka stands accused to conspiring against the Regent and abetting the fugitive menace known as the Pleroma. Though the details are not made public, rumors spread quickly, some far more wild than the actual truth. The full truth, after all, is something only the Regent's agents and the Pleroma themselves know, and even to them the manner of her exposure is unclear.

Though losing a proud daughter of an influential family, there seems to be little that the people of Godsblood can do besides accept it. After all, they are still a city of the Regent's empire, and for all the freedom they've enjoyed, there are limits. If she was truly aiding the Pleroma, the sworn enemies of the Regent - and in an organized manner, if the rumors are to be believed - can they truly object? Or would challenging the Regent's claim simply invite more death?

As with many things, the families of Godsblood are torn. Tensions are thick for the five days leading up to Vaeka's appointed execution by hanging, with everyone having an opinion and few wanting to go on record talking about it too loudly. As such, the people's frustrations come out in other ways. Bloodites are uncharacteristically unfriendly to strangers in this time, keeping to their own and treating everyone else with overt skepticism.

Those that have arrived as part of the Regent's official envoy, or seen guarding Vaeka, will receive a particularly icy reception. No longer are the Kenoma curious wanderers on personal business. Now, they are here as the hands of the Regent; few of the Godsblood citizens are foolish enough to challenge them outright, but they are ever an honest people.

Early on, the Kenoma and the rest of the Achamite contingent sent with them will be able to take over a jail in downtown Godsblood to hold Vaeka until her execution, clearing out all other Bloodite prisoners and employees in the meantime. This means they have a relatively secure position to guard their prisoner from, which is a good thing; after all, the Regent did outright invite the Pleroma to stop them, and Pleroma are nothing if not stubborn.

EXECUTION DAY

After five agonizing days of waiting and several high visible conflicts between the Pleroma and Kenoma, finally the hour of Vaeka's execution arrives. A gallows is set outside of City Hall, ready to welcome its newest victim, and a massive crowd has gathered in an spirit of anxious anticipation. Some worry that violence may break out in the streets, even without the Pleroma's agitation, but gradually the minutes tick by and the gallows remain empty.

First one minutes passes. Then five. Then fifteen. Slowly, it becomes clear to the people of Godsblood that Vaeka will not be arriving. Are the rumors true? Has she been saved? Have the Pleroma been successful, despite all odds?

As the hours pass and the crowds disperse, Vaeka Lovenskol is not officially reported as either living or dead. Fortunately, Godsblood is a place where information has a way of getting around, whether those in charge like it or not. Some are saying that she was seen being whisked away as if by powerful magic, following a bloody fight at the jail in which she was being held. Where did she go? Maybe her supposed connections to the forest people did her good, some surmise.

The days following Vaeka's failed execution carry a strange and uncertain energy. Where before there was tension and distrust, Godsblood now finds itself in a surreal reality where the Regent's word is apparently not absolute. Then again, do they really want a repeat performance?

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Godsblood?
For Pleroma, this is very easy, as they are likely to either already live there or be able to easy take Greentruth's portal. For Kenoma, they may come directly from Achamoth by boat as part of the Regent's envoy or arrive via Eustace's portal which is set up in a shed a fairly long jaunt outside of town. Once there has been some time to get established, Misa will be setting up another portal leading straight to the prison where Vaeka is being stored.

Are the Kenoma permitted by the Regent to kill other Godsblood citizens?
Though the Kenoma are authorized to kill any Bloodites that try to physically fight them, they are expected to keep things clean. The Regent prefers to only punish the guilty, and having the lines be clear will create less of a hassle in the future. Generally, Godsblood is not in a state where physical resistance is likely to happen unprovoked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ this is just for information gathering.

the just isn't to take away from the importance of their job tonight. the pleroma who'd come together to try to save vaeka desperately need to know more about what they're walking into. where kind of measures are there to keep her locked away, how many people (including fellow aions) are they up against, and what capabilities to they have? this isn't the only attempt at reconnaissance, but every single one of them matter.

strictly speaking, rand doesn't need his father's sword for this. but he's glad to have it close at hand nonetheless, same as it has been since he found it again in this world. he's barely used it, but that's not the point. it's a piece of tam al'thor here with him, that survived attacks by fades and trollocs and the dark one himself. the dangers in horos are as big — bigger — than they were at home, and he's still shaken by the regent's address and the challenge they now face. but at least he has this.

he breathes out, looking sideways to abel. they're heading in the direction of the prison where vaeka's currently under guard, awaiting her execution. and so far the city is — normal isn't the word. if the populace had little liked the visits from a couple of openly kenoma aions (and eustace, rand now knows), they like having even more of them, and achamite soldiers, even less. but life still goes on in some measure, and seeing people go about ordinary errands feels somehow eerie. not that he has any idea how a populace might normally behave in this situation, or if that'd be any different. he doesn't know the last time there was a public execution in andor, if two rivers can even be called part of andor.

quietly, ] Do you think we really can stop it?

[ the atmosphere in Godsblood is a tense one.

that tension has become a stagnant feeling in the air, and maybe it's all in Abel's head - but it certainly makes the skin prickle at the nape of his neck as if he can feel eyes on him, these days. ever since the Regent's address, none of them had got much in the way of rest nor relaxation and it didn't seem that would be changing anytime soon.

until Miss Vaeka were captured safe and sound, not a one of them would breathe easy.

even so, keeping spirits up is an important part of any 'mission,' and even if Abel wishes that he had something more concrete to offer Rand in the way of reassurances... he has but faith, today. ]

Do you really have to ask me that...?

[ his smile is quietly encouraging as if the priest were trying to stir up a bit of lightness, some hope inside his friend to keep Rand from getting too morose and caught up in his own head. it'd be too easy right now. ]

We are nothing if not exceptionally stubborn, don't you think? I'm pretty sure that goes for the lot of us right down to the very last.

[ so they wouldn't accept any alternative. ]

[ he does really have to ask.

or he wouldn't, is the thing. rand al'thor would so much rather be the one offering comfort; it's what he does. a month on the road alone with mat steadily succumbing to illness, being chased by darkfriends and monsters alike, getting help from kind strangers who were killed for their inadvertent opposition of the dark one — he took care of mat, through all that. he put on the bravest face he could. he's done the same in times since, in horos too, and it's truthfully an old habit.

so asking abel this comes from a place of trust. and the other Martyr can likely feel it, too; rand's nerves aren't half as steady as he'd want them to be. not after finally seeing the regent for the first time. not since their threats, what they'd claimed responsibility for doing, the — well. the obvious. every aion in horos knows what happened after that.

and more, too. godsblood had felt like a safe place until so recently, only for reminder after reminder that it isn't. kenoma can come here. the regent can exert their will here. a woman's life is at stake. ]

You're right about that. [ concedes. ] It's just —

[ this feels more like they're at war, doesn't it? venera had been a cautious truce, even if that peace had been broken by the end.

he shakes his head. it's just what? too many things. ]

[ Rand's uneasiness is understandable - warranted, even. this is life or death - not just for Vaeka, but for so many more beyond her: her fate will cause ripples outward that will shape the future of the Pleroma in Godsblood as well as its denizens. all of them are well aware the consequences of failure.

so they simply have to ensure failure isn't even an option on the table.

Abel feels that low-burning buzz of nerves and he does his best to assuage it, giving Rand's shoulder a light and vaguely teasing squeeze. ]

Hey! Hey, hey... don't go making faces again, alright?! I'm serious, it really is going to freeze that way one of these days and you're going to have to go, "Ah. Ah, ah. The good Father warned me about this, but did I listen? No, and now I'm paying for it."

[ yes, that was a Rand impression; yes, he basically just mockingly deepened his voice and gestured a lot, yeah. yeah, what of it, huh, punk,

...it's the calm before the storm. they need to revel in this peace while it lasts, take whatever comforts there are to be had from this respite. Abel knows it, and Rand surely knows it too. ]

I'm not the one who'd have to look at it, at least.

[ is a half-hearted attempt to match abel's light tone. but it is an attempt, and there's even a short-lived smile as he takes in that (frankly?? rude??) impression. not like mat hasn't teased him worse, or even under very different circumstances — rand might've provided the brave face, but mat was usually able to bring some levity to anything they were dealing with. it's not a skill rand ever picked up, but it is one he appreciates.

especially because abel has to be worried, too. they all are. the regent changed the game...or, maybe more accurately, they just shattered the illusion of peace. this is an outright attack, and nothing can ever be the same after this. but they do still have a little peace left before it's spent, and he does know that, so he adds with a sideways glance, ]

And your impressions are terrible.

[ did he gesture while saying that? maybe. you don't know his liFE. ]

Well, your opinion might be biased in this case and I won't take your invalid criticisms to heart. But I appreciate your input nonetheless.

[ or does he...? he doesn't look like he does, actually, as he sends his gaze trailing from Rand and toward their surroundings.

the jail isn't far from here, is it? no, just a block or so ahead - it explains how utterly quiet this region of the city has become. people are keeping their distance and for good reason; even the hottest heads in Godsblood do not wish to invoke the Regent's ire. ]

Hey. Rand, do we know what the jail backs onto? Is it a street or the canal?

Sure you do.

[ he breathes out, though, similarly noticing the hush that's fallen over this area. it almost been forgettable for a second there, with abel's good natured teasing, but the tenseness in this part of the city is even worse than it had been some blocks distant. his hands twitch nervously at his sides, but at least abel's question is some distraction from the atmosphere.

(when was the last time there was a hanging in andor? moiraine would've probably known, if she were still here.) ]

Street, I think. Why?

Edited 2022-07-17 21:23 (UTC)

Mm. Let's try to get a look from behind, alright?

[ if there's anything interest around the sides or exterior of the building they could use to their advantage, their allies would be best served with such details - so Abel's gesturing for Rand to follow his lead and cutting down an alleyway to take some side-streets, navigating loosely toward the jail's location. ]

The water might've made for a more convenient escape, but we'll make due with whatever we have on hand once we get Miss Vaeka out of there, right?

[ the closer they get, the more mindful they'll need to be for wandering sentries - but that's fine! it isn't like either Abel or Rand are known for being loud, or clumsy, or careless, haha, right, ]

Good idea.

[ yeah, everything's going to be fine!

— is not a sentiment rand is feeling right now. or, well. it is, a little bit, and that has a lot to do with the man he follows down these narrowing streets, approaching the jail from more of a meandering, sideways route. it might very well take them around the building from enough of a distance that they aren't noticed at all.

and it does seem that way, at first. things remain oppressively quiet, their footfalls the loudest sound to be heard as they slowly get closer. but other noises rise, and that's comforting at first. some nearby bars, it seems, busy at this hour even despite the location. but in fairness to the city locals, it's less easy to see the jail from here. out of sight...

nearby, a handful of voices start to rise. ]

[ Godsblood is nothing if not enduring. there are those who continue their merriment and routine despite the hushed sense of tension that's befallen all, stubbornly determined to pay the Regent and theirs no mind. or maybe it's simply a convenient excuse to climb further in the bottle for some; the return of Aions, the hand of the Regent coming for their far and off city once again... it is an ill portent for sure.

...Abel's eyes narrow as he picks up the sound of commotion as they pass a flower shop whose doors have been shuttered for the evening, and he gently rests his hand on Rand's shoulder to slow his pace. does he hear that--? ]

That's coming from outside the gate, isn't it?

[ his voice is low, even if they're still too far away to be overheard -- but someone shouts with a bitter spite in their voice, slurred by drink: "Cowards. Coward little shite, you won't 'ave the balls! All of you Achamites're the same!" ]

[ he does hear that.

so when abel touches his shoulder, rand looks to him uneasily and slows to a stop. they are close enough to the gate that abel might be (is, they'll find out soon enough) right. another voice comes, lower, colder: "shut up." and then another, also sober, likely another achamite, an admonition to go about their business and leave matters ordered by the regent alone.

which maybe should be motivation for rand and abel to move away from that particular direction, or at least tread carefully. but then there comes the sound of harried footsteps, of fists (or maybe boots) making contact and a howl of pain,

and rand finds himself running. ]

--Rand!

[ it leaves Abel in a surprised if still-hushed whisper -- and then he's giving chase, trying to keep up with his very suddenly charging friend. ah, so much for scoping out the situation from a safe distance; things are absolutely escalating and it is no surprise that there might be some scuffles among the people and those of the Regent's men amongst their midst.

still-- this situation is so terribly delicate, so terribly fragile, and they have to be careful--

but as Abel rounds the corner toward the mouth of the alleyway that feeds into the street, a pair of women come all but barreling into him, one sobbing as she holds her face in blood-stained hands, her friend hysterically shrieking that they're right behind them. the priest is quickly steadying her by the shoulders, sending a frantic glance behind her in case someone is indeed giving chase--

and by the time Abel has looked up in the other direction again--

...Rand is nowhere to be seen. ]

[ rand comes across an achamite guard by nearly bowling into him.

which he hadn't expected, or really wanted — he'd just heard the tell-tale sounds of violence and ran to intervene. it's just, these are civilians. it's just, none of them asked for the regent to sweep in and single out someone to murder for a spectacle, to get at the pleroma. it's just, getting drunk and argumentative — common, here, where people are already plenty combative while sober — doesn't deserve a beating from one of the regent's men.

and this man, this guard, already has his sword unsheathed. he assumes the boy running at him means violence, or maybe he doesn't care either way. the people of godsblood are so mouthy, and they've forgotten who their betters are. so he swings his blade, and rand has his father's sword drawn before he knows what's happening. thank the light for yuuta's lessons, rand's feet and his hands seeming to know what to do before his brain can keep up. there's a flurry of activity — he won't remember much of it later, just panicked attempts at defending, a spill of blood as the guard strikes at his sword arm, seeing an opening and,

and,

striking, dumbfounded when his sword isn't parried, when it hits its mark. he freezes and reels back a few steps, but it's too late. ]

[ So much for another quiet night.

Things had been calm so far. Sure, Amos had been expecting an escalation at some point, but they weren't there yet unless the Pleroma had been willing to tip their hand early. He'd been taking advantage of it — the chance to go back out into Godsblood where he knows Pleroma live, hunt them down, bring them back with him; the ease of the night before, getting a good sleep in so he'd be able to keep himself fresh and ready to go for whenever what happened happened.

Really, he thought he'd get another day or two of this. Head out into Godsblood because they can spare the manpower. Come back in time for another shift guarding the prison. Rinse, repeat, be ready to go.

And then he hears the yelling, sharper and more aggressive than a typical argument. He'd just been on his way back when he'd cocked an ear for it, trying to discern by sound alone how urgent this is, whether he needs to get himself involved or what.

But he knows what a death cry sounds like, so he goes charging in, and right fucking there is a Pleroma, with a blood-stained sword and a dead body — dead Achamite — crumpling in front of him. He barely even registers that it's Rand — not like it matters who it is — as he speeds up, teeth bared, the sound of his heavy footfalls probably the only warning he gets before Amos is looking to crash into him from his side without the sword, tackle him to the ground, fist cocked back and aiming right for his head all the while. ]

[ it's more of a stumble than any graceful dodge backwards.

because rand feels — cold. like he's been plunged into an ice bath, everything gone numb. it's hard to process what he's seeing, what he's done. there is so much blood on his father's blade, splattered on his clothes; there is a man who'd been alive not five minutes ago, hitting the ground lifelessly; there is

there is

there is another running at him, and he almost doesn't notice until it's too late. he doesn't drop the heron-marked sword (another near thing), but does swing wildly, unfocused, mostly to make space between himself and this person. this person: amos. of course it's amos; it's always amos, it seems.

if rand is barely aware of his surroundings, he's even less sure how or when he fills himself with the raging torrent of the Power. he acts on pure, panicked instinct: sending a weave upwards into the sky and dragging storm clouds to where they stand, summoning a crack of blinding lightning down towards amos. ]

[ The shock is recognizable. A novice. Someone not at all used to what actual combat is, somebody who's never had to fight and scrap and claw with every fibre of their being just to stay alive. Not a wild animal ready at any moment's notice to tear someone's throat out and take them down with them. Never a crab that actually managed to scrabble its way to the top of the bucket.

It's a fleeting thought in Amos' brain as he leans back, dodges that wild, panicked, inexperienced swing: Good.

It's also the last thought he has for the next little while that could actually be translated into words.

Because in the time it takes for him to dodge, to put that little bit of separation between him and Rand, Rand gets his opening — one he never saw coming, would have never known to expect. He's only seen something like it from him once before, in the Regent's courtroom, which was decidedly more structured than this. In the here and now, he's focused on traditional fighting, what he actually knows, and therefore, his focus is on the sword.

Not above him.

Not when lightning strikes him and courses through his body, stopping it in place, sending him to the ground. His heart stops for a second; everything goes black.

His heart starts back up. It's only been a second or two. When Amos opens his eyes again everything is red, a fury overtaking every single part of his being that he's never felt before loves craves natural instincts in overdrive seeping into everything that makes him him and he's back up, a cry that's wholly inhuman ripped from his throat as he lunges for Rand again. Before, he'd been thinking capture; now, all he wants is to decimate. ]

[ what's stupid is that he doesn't run.

he should. if he had, he'll consider later, then a lot of things would've gone very differently. but instead, he watches the lightning strike true (wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, if he can recreate this weave later. maybe? he can see the shape he created unthinkingly), and stays frozen in indecision. he just feels a terrible fear that he might have killed amos too, that in one night he might have two bodies to his name, then starts forward a step as if to check that amos isn't disintegrating into his shard...

...and amos lunges at him with a roar that seems like it ought to burst his eardrums. on pure reflex, rand puts his sword between the two of them with a slashing motion. it's barely an attack, startled as he is, more dangerous for amos's momentum than any power rand's put into it. and as he backs away, he stumbles on something, losing his balance —

(something: he'll realize later, the body of the guard, and feel so sick that it'll be a relief he's been refusing to eat.) ]

Edited 2022-07-20 23:33 (UTC)

[ He sees the sword coming towards him, so he acts on instinct and just.

grabs it.

The gloves he's been wearing stop only so much damage from happening. His right hand is his dominant one; the blade digs into his palm, and he doesn't feel a thing. His two outer fingers curl around it first, and just like that they're gone, cut off at the base.

He doesn't notice. All that he can think about now is to eliminate this thing that would dare come at him, so in his next motion he reaches out with his left hand. Doesn't feel the blade dig into it, either, as he uses all his strength — he has never been stronger before; he doesn't think to question it, never before has the world made so much sense — and wrenches the sword from Rand's grasp just as he backs up, loses his balance. In sole possession of the weapon that's digging into his palms, he gives it one look, teeth bared as though it's personally offended him, and in a clean motion brings his thigh up, snaps the blade clean in two over it. He throws the pieces away, opposite directions, much farther than he probably should be able to and paying no mind to how freely his hands are bleeding now.

He looks back up at Rand, snarl on his face as he goes for what he expects to be the first blow of many, right hand connecting with the side of his head, knocking him out cold and

And then thoughts start to permeate his mind again, distant and hazy but there: what the fuck and how the fuck as pain explodes back into his senses. Amos yells with it, human and falling back into himself, but the fact that he's got a prone Pleroma right in front of him takes priority, so.

He doesn't even look at his hands; he knows they hurt like hell, there's no point. He just leans over to grab Rand, heft him up over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He'll take him back to their base. Reassess the damage from there.

It's a win; he's not looking to try to stretch it out into anything more. ]

[ Amos does not take more than a step forward with the young man hanging limp and unconscious over his shoulder before there is a shout from behind him from a familiar voice, a breathless figure having run to make his appearance at the mouth of an alleyway feeding into the street. ]

--Amos!

[ the smell of blood, of ozone, is thick and cloying in the air; it makes for a sickly and familiar combination, one that has Abel taking in the state of his ally in the arms of the "enemy" with a horrible sink in his stomach. Rand-- he's unconscious; there's a body of an Achamite sprawled at their feet-- and Amos...

Amos, is... ]

Please stop right where you are...!

[ he is taking a slow step forward, rigidity in his posture that suggests he is prepared to take action if his "enemy" cannot be reasoned with. of all the Kenoma among the ranks of the Regent's lot, this... this is one Abel knows may not be swayed by pleas for rationality and mercy. Amos... Amos of all people would be whole-heartedly prepared to do whatever he had to in the name of the cause.

Rand could not have fallen into much worse hands. ]

[ The cracking of thunder on a dry day is more than enough cause for alarm in Gray's book. To her, it dredges up memories of battle and assassination, and the unlikely pull of dark clouds to a single spot in the near distance screams of magic. After a moment of hestiation, she makes a decision and strikes out from the roof of the prison.

She flies as well as anyone could while bound to the earth, her cloak snapping as she skips across rooftops to the site of the lightning. It isn't a minute until she finds a bloody scene below: an Achamite man (dead) on the floor, Amos with a different man slung over his shoulders, all of them stroked with red. And Father Abel, who made such an impression on her months ago — though now he's stiff, taking an intentional, threat-laced step toward Amos.

Gray lands on light feet, skidding to a stop between both men. There's warning in her eyes as she straightens to face Abel, shoulders squared. Though she thinks fondly of him, she can't allow harm (or at least, more of it) to come to one of her companions right in front of her. ]

Mr. Amos... are you alright?

[ Seeing as how she doesn't have the full story here, it's up to Amos to put some color on the situation for her. In the meantime, she watches Abel with bright vigilance, prepared to respond if he continues to advance. ]

[ His body jerks when he hears Abel calling his name, a stutter-stop before he straightens almost mechanically. He looks back over his shoulder at Abel, regarding him with something almost wild in his eyes, the whites of them on full display. The only emotion that comes to him naturally is anger, and though it feels like a lot of it has been sapped from him it's still there.

He could comply. Drop Rand right to the ground and turn on Abel, take two Pleroma back with him. Amos' mind races as it works to reboot itself properly, trying to analyze the situation: he's got time, because in all likelihood Abel won't strike first. He has felt Abel's anger firsthand, so he needs to take him seriously. And he doesn't yet know the damage to his hands — just that they hurt like hell, and he is definitely losing blood from what he can identify now as literally grabbing a sword — and they're his primary weapons.

He's probably fucked if he goes for Abel too, but he has to try. It's just as he reaches that decision — just as he's about to drop Rand's deadweight like a sack of potatoes — that Gray is suddenly there, and oh, thank fuck. He has no idea what she can do, but the fact that she got there as quick as she did bodes well.

Amos doesn't take his eyes off Abel as he answers her. ]

Not exactly. Think I hit my limit with this one. [ A slight shrug of his shoulder indicating Rand. There's an edge to his voice, tense and filled with pain. ] Think you can handle him?

[ Because he likes Abel. Or maybe liked would be the better word; he's not sure now, because there's only one reason Abel would be around here, and it's a reason that puts them directly at odds.

He's gotta be dealt with, and as much as Amos doesn't like it, it might have to fall to Gray. ]

[ the sudden and unexpected appearance of Gray stalls Abel where he had clearly been about to approach - the momentum of another step halted before it can realize. blue eyes flicker from the hooded girl's face to the man beyond her, and he...

...he cannot help the look of urgency, plea, stress, from painting his face. ]

Miss Gray--?

[ it leaves him in disbelief as that tightness in his chest serves to twist all the harder into a knot; Gray...? of all the people he expected to find in staunch opposition of him and in firm hands of the Kenoma... this one...

this one was nowhere near the list.

he looks distressed, shaking his head imploringly - spreading his hands in a gesture of openness. ]

Amos-- Miss Gray, please! Whatever's happened here, we aren't enemies! Let me tend to Rand; I'll take him back and... neither of us will trouble you further. Alright--?

[ Amos is injured; the heady scent of his blood indicates this is no minor wound. and Rand-- Abel isn't sure what injuries he had suffered as well, but they need medical attention. he does not want to stop any of them from getting it. the best thing to do would be for each of them to part ways with their own, right? to call a ceasefire. to go their separate ways.

...he cannot... cannot allow Rand to be taken. ]

[ It sounds like Abel has just arrived too. She isn't opposed to his proposition, truth be told; she'd like to avoid any further fighting, especially with him.

But she feels it isn't up to her to make that call. Her eyes stay on Abel, his pleading expression knocking at her like a hammer to her chest, but she doesn't move save for a subtle loosening of her brow. ]

I'll be okay, Mr. Amos.

[ Of course, she doesn't know anything about Abel's fighting capabilities, but she has the power of youth and determination on her side...?? ]

[ It hits him in that moment: he's the elder statesman here. He's older than Gray. He's been on Horos longer. He wants to look out for her, but at the end of the day he has seniority over her and with it, the ability — need, maybe — to give her direction when he is no longer capable of taking action himself.

He feels his hand spasming in that moment as if reminding him of that fact. Amos bites back a yell of pain as it really starts to seep in, shifts Rand's body to make sure he doesn't lose his hold on him.

(In that moment there's a faint groaning coming from the body he's holding, eyes cracking open for a couple of seconds, a glimpse of the situation unfolding in front of him. Rand's still alive, albeit slipping right back into unconsciousness.)

He hates this; he needs to go. Now. ]

Alright. [ Amos' words are for Gray only now; Abel has said nothing worth acknowledging. They're at war. They're enemies, and he's not giving up an asset for nothing. ] I gotta take this one back. Regent said capture Pleroma, so try to capture him too, if you can. Kill him if you can't.

[ Nothing personal, Abel.

And loathe as he is to leave this to Gray, to assign her with something that heavy, Amos has to believe there's a reason she's here. That she can handle doing something like this. So he gives her one last look — I trust you — before turning to make his way back to the prison, steps laboured, blood dripping from his hands, relying on his own strength to see him the rest of the way through.

(If Abel does anything to Gray then it will be personal, and he will hunt him down and fucking murder him.) ]

Amos--

[ Abel takes another step forward as Amos begins retreating; the condemnation to see the priest dead if he cannot be captured sits heavy in his gut, but it isn't entirely unexpected. of all the Kenoma... it is this one Abel whole-heartedly believes might be driven to a truly horrible end without so much as flinching at the blood on his hands.

even if he doesn't believe this man as unfeeling as appearances might indicate. ]

Miss Gray... I'm begging you. Please step aside; I can't let him take Rand. Are you really okay with this...?

[ ...time is wasting.

if he doesn't do something now-- if he doesn't move quickly, then...

but God help him, he doesn't want to have to make Gray's life more difficult, either, and Lord knows he doesn't want to hurt her. no; he doesn't want to have to hurt her if he can help it. ]

EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (GODSBLOOD)

don't run with knives, kids! | closed to abel, later ft amos + gray

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

z told me to godmod, nobody @ me ... also cw amputation, blood

This Is Fine.gif

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

z asked me to godmod again. just a lil

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)