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[OPEN TO KENOMA] EXECUTION OF THE INNOCENT
WHO: The Regent and Interested Kenoma
WHAT: As promised, the Regent is carrying out the Innocence Entity's invite-only execution.
WHERE: The Regent's Throne Room.
WHEN: Firaseri 22nd, after dissipated Kenoma have emerged.
WARNINGS: Disturbing imagery, gore, limb loss, general unpleasantness.
It's the evening of the 22nd when the call goes out: it is time for the execution. This is purely an event for the willing and or eager, and besides being informed of it, no Kenoma will be pressured into attending. Those that are interested, however, will be led to the Regent's throne room for what promises to be a very special occasion.
Upon entry, the set up of the throne room will seem quite familiar to those that have been there before. A cavernous room filled with nothing but the throne itself, its emptiness seems an intentional call to the void. Several stairs lead to the dais where the throne sits, currently occupied by a the Regent. As usual, any details about the Regent are obscured behind flowing robes and a faceted mask. Presently, they are swirling around a glass of what is presumably wine, but drinking absolutely none of it. Any Kenoma that seem interested will be offered a drink by one of the Citadel servants on duty.
It's not just the Regent present, however. Off to the right side of the room, an arrangement of familiar void-dark spears have been fused into the wall and floor, with their prisoner still held at their center, pierced from all sides. Estinien Wyrmblood appears as little more than a shadow of his former self at this stage, every ounce of color stripped from him, in sharp contrast to the black ichor that bubbles and drips from a cruel assortment of wounds. One eye is swollen with infection, oozing void, while the other is completely blank with whiteness. Each limb has been shorn down to a stub, as if burned by a dark fire from the outside in; all except a set of ragged, broken wings strung up being him. His torso, pierced as it is, seems to be barely holding onto form.
If he reacts to the arrival of 'guests', it isn't apparent. Instead, he seems practically comatose, all except for that open eye and the shallow movements of his breath. His shard is exposed, resting beneath his collar bones, an eye-like shape that has become similarly colorless. The usual sheen of color that all shards hold has faded away, now showing nothing but the gray of the stone beneath it. Those with True Sight will see that he has fallen to the first tier of Pleroma, and even that he is only tenuously hanging on to.
At their throne, the Regent lifts their glass.
"Welcome, kindred."
WHAT: As promised, the Regent is carrying out the Innocence Entity's invite-only execution.
WHERE: The Regent's Throne Room.
WHEN: Firaseri 22nd, after dissipated Kenoma have emerged.
WARNINGS: Disturbing imagery, gore, limb loss, general unpleasantness.
It's the evening of the 22nd when the call goes out: it is time for the execution. This is purely an event for the willing and or eager, and besides being informed of it, no Kenoma will be pressured into attending. Those that are interested, however, will be led to the Regent's throne room for what promises to be a very special occasion.
Upon entry, the set up of the throne room will seem quite familiar to those that have been there before. A cavernous room filled with nothing but the throne itself, its emptiness seems an intentional call to the void. Several stairs lead to the dais where the throne sits, currently occupied by a the Regent. As usual, any details about the Regent are obscured behind flowing robes and a faceted mask. Presently, they are swirling around a glass of what is presumably wine, but drinking absolutely none of it. Any Kenoma that seem interested will be offered a drink by one of the Citadel servants on duty.
It's not just the Regent present, however. Off to the right side of the room, an arrangement of familiar void-dark spears have been fused into the wall and floor, with their prisoner still held at their center, pierced from all sides. Estinien Wyrmblood appears as little more than a shadow of his former self at this stage, every ounce of color stripped from him, in sharp contrast to the black ichor that bubbles and drips from a cruel assortment of wounds. One eye is swollen with infection, oozing void, while the other is completely blank with whiteness. Each limb has been shorn down to a stub, as if burned by a dark fire from the outside in; all except a set of ragged, broken wings strung up being him. His torso, pierced as it is, seems to be barely holding onto form.
If he reacts to the arrival of 'guests', it isn't apparent. Instead, he seems practically comatose, all except for that open eye and the shallow movements of his breath. His shard is exposed, resting beneath his collar bones, an eye-like shape that has become similarly colorless. The usual sheen of color that all shards hold has faded away, now showing nothing but the gray of the stone beneath it. Those with True Sight will see that he has fallen to the first tier of Pleroma, and even that he is only tenuously hanging on to.
At their throne, the Regent lifts their glass.
"Welcome, kindred."
open
The invitation to the execution seemed to light that spark back in Silco, a terribly exciting, gruesome end, for something to be killed before them. He'd taken the time to prepare, once he received word.
He'd arrived in his best, something he'd been reserving for another dinner with the Regent -- something he'd purchased specifically for the next event -- and what better event, than one where the Innocence would be entirely murdered? Unlike his usual attire -- often deep reds and golds, similar to the fashion he'd worn so long in Zaun -- he'd taken to black, and silver, something a bit more matching towards the Regent's own coloring, in their clothing, with filigree and fasteners that looked fine and sharp, small spikes or whorls that ended in sharp points. The coat, too, still large and with an oversized collar, had a rich purple lining -- almost shimmer bright in the light -- and of course, as he'd been taking to wearing these days, gloves. Makeup hiding that mottled scar, and a drawn-in eyebrow, the real sign of change was his eyes. Silco hadn't noticed it at first, but they were changing. The black pit of his eye was faded -- nearly purple now -- the iris turning white -- and his other, normally blue was shifting, that same purple color -- the occasional light revealed an undertone settling in, almost neon. He'd tried to will it back, but to no avail, and even that would not sour his mood.
Silco strode in with all of the presence of a man who had not aimed to hide. He hadn't lit a cigar yet, but his fingers itched every now and again for the inner pocket, and when he noted the Regent's drink, he did ask, and receive one for himself, and would tip it in greeting to those who noticed. Silco didn't hover invisibly, or hover at the edges this time. He had desperately hoped this would happen, and although the Regent had certainly not been lying when they said that It would be nigh impossible for one Aion to do -- When he looked, every now and again at the battered and bruised body of Estinien Wyrmblood, watched those injuries leak, and bubble with the essence of Kenoma... he wondered what would happen, if he got close. Would It recognize him? Would That Thing come back out, and try for him again? For Silco, it had always been personal, but he didn't dare get too close, lest it hear them.
He turned away from looking at it for the moment. This was a cause for celebration, and while he wanted to watch it writhe and die, until then, he didn't want to sully his good mood. And by the look on his face, not the usual sullen, dour look -- he had a sardonic, self-confident smirk, filled with all of the indulgence of someone who was ready to watch something that they hated die. ]
FOR THE REGENT
I hope the way this proceeded was to your liking? [ After all, it had been the Regent's plan, down to the six spears embedded that had taken the beast at last. The trap that had been laid for It. ]
Although I wonder... does It still remain conscious in there? Even now?
[ He hoped it was suffering, truly. For him, even though it had now thrice found a reason to attack him in some fashion, it's almost more satisfying that it was brought here to Achamoth, in all of its glory, before it was entirely decimated before them. There had been a cost, of course -- there always was -- but it seemed so little, now that it was here, and to be executed. ]
no subject
[The Regent sounds nothing but pleased.]
There were areas for improvement, of course, but none that I'm all that concerned about. To have kept the other two captives as well would have been a treat... but I do think there is a kind of poetry in them being released back to their kind after what they experienced. Knowing the cost of their salvation.
[They lean back in their throne, swirling their drink.]
And it certainly is. In the days since it's capture it's been focusing its effort on preventing the host's suffering, and binding their souls even more intimately in each attempt. Whether or not it realizes it's spelling its own downfall, it's playing into my hand quite nicely.
Without this link to the material realm, it would be nearly impossible to wound fatally. The man it's bound itself to was the snare, far more than even my spears were.
no subject
[ It's funny, really. Silco wants power like that, but not at that cost. He wouldn't allow something like That Thing to take over, and Estinien was the fool who'd accepted that. Then he'd bust down the doors and into Achamoth, as if they could have all strolled right back out.
As if they hadn't been planning it. ]
Yes, the spears. Six of them, I noticed. [ Silco had been one, of course, but his eyes flicked to the rest of them. He didn't doubt that he wasn't alone. ] Curious.
I am sure you already know, but for those of us who don't -- what does something like that do to an Aion's soul? I'm sure the events today won't be pleasant, but... [ His eyes to Estinien now, for a moment. ] I hope it has long-lasting consequences.
no subject
Crane sidles up alongside Silco, bag of assorted nuts in hand. Despite the mostly somber attitude in the throne room, he's been enjoying the time too, though Silco is clearly taking a more personal enjoyment out of the night. Silco had clearly dressed for the occasion, while Crane remains in his usual robes, hood, and noose.
He nods up towards the imprisoned Estinien, and withdraws a single almond from his bag, eating it. "I take it you and the...thing being put down tonight were acquainted?"
He then tips the bag towards Silco, if he's interested.
no subject
"Many times over, in fact," he admitted, and brushed at his lapel, idly. He sniffed, as if gathering its thoughts. "During the fight, it was the third time it dared to try and kill me."
The first time might have barely counted, but Silco remembered it still, trying to pull him down deeper, into that quiet, still water. As if he was finally letting go, as if -- his memory stopped there -- violent like when he'd lashed out, his fingers broke the surface and lashed out again -- visibly to Crane, his eye twitched, as he thought of it. "First when it was merely a disease, then last month again, when I startled it out of the man you see lashed up, and then thirdly, just the other day," a chuckle, then. "It's almost as if I offend its very existence, hm?"
no subject
He doesn't comment on Silco's twitch, but listens as the man continues to talk. "As self-righteous as its name implies." Oh he knows the type well, and shares Silco's distaste. Innocence...and Vengeance. Quite a team-up they'd make.
"I wonder if the creature is capable of feeling fear, knowing its end is approaching." And if Crane has to guess, will be made to be as unpleasant as possible for it. "There would be something very satisfying about watching something once so powerful give into terror as its existence comes to an end." Crane doesn't have Silco's history with the beast, but the powerful giving in to true power, the power of fear? That's always satisfying to see. "I suppose we'll see presently. I assume we are still waiting to see if more of our compatriots will be joining us for the entertainment."
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Which unless the Regent either decided to not end the universe, or conversely, had been the one to do the deed to his realm -- which was unforgivable for one life that would have perished, and one life alone -- Silco had no qualms following them. His tone implied, that he found the prospect of the Regent making them wait: amusing.
"I hope that it does feel fear. I hope that it's squirming in there, knowing that it played its way right to the Regent, and that it's going to die here, tonight. That there's nothing left for it now, and that it was foolish to squander its power, by coming here."
He reached up, and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down. "Only if the Regent makes it so, of course."
no subject
("Is this really what you wear to an execution?" he'd asked Aris, once the whole look was assembled.
Aris had sighed and given him an undershirt.)
Interesting thing about that cigar of Silco's. It had been lit! Hopefully it wasn't in a pocket at the time, but it was definitely glowing red at the end.
Matt, meanwhile, innocently sipped at a glass of wine. ]
no subject
However, when his cigar was lit, a bright ember at the end, he looked at it, and a single eye narrowed, before he scanned the crowed.
When a mismatched -- almost pink gaze found Matt, he sneered, but lifted the cigar regardless, and took a puff, before he pulled it away, and tipped it, as if to silently say: "thank you for the demonstration".
As if he didn't already know, but the more that Matt underestimated his powers, the better. ]
no subject
Which makes the contrast between her and Silco all the more interesting, maybe. She didn't think much about her state of dress, having picked a robe with silver accents that bore a more official air over her usual plain ones without much deliberation. She had been meaning to get back in touch with Silco though, things did 'work out' in the end despite all the bumps along the way. So when their eyes meet and he tips his glass in her direction, the gesture is returned, though it's mostly a show of formality from her part. Her gaze does linger over his appearance for a moment before she saunters over his side to join him, and it's strange, honestly unexpected, for her to recognize some form of alleviation in herself at the sight of him. Silco, usually very cautious and closed off, is positively beaming in satisfaction tonight. At least some of them are doing great today, and things that make their allies happy should be celebrated. Not that Ciel is unaware enabling can be detrimental, but they did take down a constant thorn at the Kenoma's side and captured the entity that the Regent wanted. Their boss was content with the results too, so they've evidently done their job.]
Good evening, Silco.
[Ciel doesn't have it in her to smile for the occasion, at least not now, but she does offer a small and polite bow of acknowledgement with her greeting. They've sure done it, haven't they?]