isleofavalon | The Terrible, Horrible, Not-So-Good Morning

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The Terrible, Horrible, Not-So-Good Morning | OPEN LOG

WHO: Emet-Selch + anyone
WHAT: A series of public and very gruesome murders, culminating in a flashy fight between Emet and a generic boss NPC that destroys much of a street
WHEN: From the start of August to mid-August
WHERE: Camelot City
WARNINGS: Violence, death, gore, mutilation of corpses etc. I will not write graphic descriptions of these for threads unless you opt-in to these details.

BASIC BYSTANDER INFO:

The bodies of the dead appear mysteriously during the night and are taken down by Camelot's law enforcement before next sunrise. Those who manage to see the display/s before they're taken down will note they are hung up as a deliberate, increasingly gruesome spectacle [think the 'art' in the TV show Hannibal] as the days go on. It is not a sight for the faint-hearted. If you smell the result, you will in all likelihood throw up the contents of your stomach.

The FIRST WEEK simply involves a single body hung up on a lamp post or some similar, convenient archway/overhang, with one or two more dead bodies below it. None of them are particularly special and all are eventually ID'd as lower tier thugs with shifty reputations.

On the SECOND WEEK, the bodies turn into more...artful displays. Prompt no.2 contains a very basic description of each one. DO NOT click on the links below if you are sensitive to descriptions of corpse mutilation and gore.

1st. "The Puppet"
2nd. "The Blood Eagle"
3rd. "Long-neck"
4th. "The Keyholder"

For those who have underworld/crime connections, you may hear whispers of a local smuggling ring being thrown into chaos. Members are disappearing without warning. Some attempt to go into hiding and turn up again during the first week of murders, dead. Others are simply never heard from after they disappear. Witnesses babble of some dark-cloaked figure who bursts in to places believed to be safe hideouts and slaughters anyone who attempts to escape. Those who DID escape swear up and down they had the luck of the fae on their side.

Emet-Selch finally locates the ringleader in the middle of August and launches into a very public, very destructive pursuit whilst fused with his familiar. Other characters can try and interfere with the chase but he will ultimately kill the ringleader with the help of reanimated corpses of their own subordinates, possessed by some of the spirits of their past victims. After about half an hour when the Soul Catcher he is using expires, he will collapse from his cumulative injuries and be taken into custody by Camelot law enforcement.

For any other questions, please send me a PM to this account or leave a comment here!

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Hythlodaeus closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath.

"No."

It is so much easier to focus on being stubborn right now - the moment Hythlodaeus as much as lets himself think about listening to Hades, about lending any credence to his terse words... he knows that he would not be able to get closer to his friend again. And, left alone, Hades would likely let himself be executed or simply seek his end on his own. No. No, he can't allow that.

"If there is naught you wish to be given, then I have come to take."

"What more could anyone possibly take from me?!" he shouts.

Finally - finally he looks up, glaring at Hythlodaeus from his corner of the cell.

"Did you not see me, Hythlodaeus? Did you not see how low I've fallen? I am far, far from deserving of any of the respect the title of Emet-Selch once held. Do I have to kill more people before you finally see that?!"

It takes everything Hythlodaeus has to avoid openly flinching at the sudden outburst - he clenches his fists, fingers digging into his clothes, breath coming faster with fear. He can only hope Hades does not notice.

"Mayhap you can no longer hold the title, indeed. Yet I would remind you that you have been Hades for far longer than you have been Emet-Selch to me."

His tone is calm, even, reasonable - same as always, one might say. But this time this almost-infuriatingly logical composure comes at a great price, yet it is one Hythlodaeus is willing to pay if he has a chance of bringing his friend back.

Of course he notices. Bitterly, he's glad for it. If Hythlodaeus is scared of him, it will be easier to drive the other man away.

"I don't even remember what it was like to be 'Hades'," he replies coldly. And then he suddenly smiles, barking out harsh laughter. "I have worn so many names, faces, and bodies, that I can't even remember what my own looked like!"

He uncurls from his foetal position only to crawl towards the bars and lunge like the madman they all think him to be. His reach falls short: the chains around his limbs hold fast. Hythlodaeus can see that there aren't any abrasions around his wrists or ankles - evidence that Hades hasn't once tried to fight against them.

"I think I could kill you too, Hythlodaeus." There's an edge of true madness to his laughter this time. "Do you want to know how easy it is? It turns out, if one hits their head just so, they die instantly."

Perhaps surprisingly, Hythlodaeus does not flinch as much this time: there's still the slightest narrowing of his eyes and tension in his shoulders that betray it, but after it he leans in closer instead - not just hiding his fear, but fighting against it.

What hurts the most, though, is Hades's bitter outburst about having forgotten himself. It is something Hythlodaeus cannot even imagine going through, yet... being surrounded by strangers, away from their people, in a cruel world... perhaps he can understand how a pale shadow of such loss of self would feel. It only fills his heart with anguish, not helped in the least by Hades's sudden lunging and furious words. Does his friend really think that this is a deterrent for Hythlodaeus, that he cannot see the maddening pain and fear behind it all?

He recalls the lectures at the Akadaemia about the creatures of the world. The records of how various animals react to great stress - thrashing, mindless, destroying everyone and everything around them not out of malice, but a blind desire to escape their own suffering.

He recalls the firebird and the soul that had merged with it, and almost instinctively his eyes find the painting on Hades's skin. There's a brief moment as he gazes at it, and then raises his eyes again to look at his friend.

"I am sorry, Hades. If I could, I would take that knowledge from you."

For a fraction of an instant his eyes widen. Then they narrow.

He throws himself against the chains now, feral and mad with...something even he doesn't care to name, for looking inwards that deeply will only hurt him more than he's hurting already.

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" he shouts. The noise is enough to rouse the guard, who hurries over. "I'VE SURVIVED THOUSANDS UPON THOUSANDS OF YEARS WITHOUT YOU ALREADY. I DON'T NEED YOU TO TAKE ANYTHING MORE FROM ME!"

The guard shouts at him to settle or else, but he ignores them, thrashing until the cuffs bite into his skin and draw blood.

Why doesn't he hate me?

Hythlodaeus quickly reaches out towards the guard, trying to assure them that he isn't in danger, asking them to give him a little more time. They would only need to intervene once Hades becomes a danger to himself. The guard replies tersely that it's everyone else's safety that comes first; that, too, is something Hythlodaeus can understand. He does not truly believe Hades would want to hurt others in this state, but he just might - in order to hurt himself. And if this goes on, he will have to acquiesce to the guard.

But for now, while there's still time...

"Yet those thousands of years were naught but suffering for you. And that is why... you could not stand losing me again. And you... killed them for my sake."

"And I'll kill hundreds more."

He stops fighting for now, breathing hard, gaze boring into that of his friend's. Look at me; I am a stranger. Don't you see?

"I will destroy this entire city - I will even murder the king if I have to. I care not."

Briefly, Hythlodaeus glances sideways at the guard. Would that they were not here, not for this... This is important, after all, and he would have preferred to be alone with Hades for this conversation. But there is little choice.

Taking a deep breath, heart racing and stomach churning with anxiety, Hythlodaeus reaches up to take off his mask, holding it up to the side so that the guard does not see his face. It would be of little significance to them, after all.

But now, face open, he holds Hades's gaze steadily, even if fear still has its claws deep in him. But he refuses to give up.

"... No. You do care. Mayhap not in the way most would expect, nor the way that they would understand. But you do."

He takes another breath, trying to keep his mental balance.

"Yet you could kill many. I... understand that now."

That's not fair.

He bites his lip, hard enough for it to start bleeding. His fingers curl into fists on the rough stone floor. It's not fair that he gets to look upon Hythlodaeus' true face whilst he has to wear this-- this imposter, this warlord's visage.

Dropping his gaze so Hythlodaeus cannot see how much he wants to tear at his face, he hisses, "Put your mask back on and leave, Hythlodaeus. I don't want to see you here again."

Whatever Hythlodaeus had been expecting, it wasn't this. There is a new edge to Hades's voice, one that he has barely ever heard before, and one that tells Hythlodaeus that this time his friend really is too close to the breaking point, the one where there may be no return afterwards. His composure crumbles, the fear that he's been trying to hold back this entire time breaking through.

"Hades--"

His voice is quiet, lost and frightened; and though perhaps it's not the best move, the name tumbles from his lips unthinkingly.

"I'M NOT HADES!!"

The words reverberate through the prison, ending on a hollow note. He covers his ears again, breathing in short, sharp gasps. Long, long ago, he lost his body after the Sundering and came to exist as a mere disembodied soul. A mirror cannot reflect the intangible, and so no surface could ever show him the face he wore unless it was someone else's. A litany of names tumble through his mind - all the people he became once upon a time. All the lives he lived, shared, fought for amongst mortals.

'Ascians', they called themselves. The Shadowless - for none of them could cast a silhouette without a vessel.

He curls up on the ground and his nails dig into the side of his neck. "Let me out," he mutters. A rivulet of blood trickles down his palm. "Let me out."

He doesn't mean the cell.

Now the panic washes over Hythlodaeus completely. He rocks back at the scream, face pale, but colour drains from him even more when he realizes what Hades is doing, when he notices the streak of red on his hands.

"Agesandros!"

He throws himself at the bars, tears of terror and anguish welling up in his eyes, pointlessly tries to reach for Hades, try to stop him - but he's not close enough, not nearly close enough. The guard calls for reinforcements and medical help and rushes forward to pry Hythlodaeus away from the cell; blindly, he tries to struggle against it, starting to hyperventilate as some part of him remembers the day of the final murder. It was much the same, after all - Hades curled up on the floor like that, confusion and fear reigning, Hythlodaeus being dragged away from his friend. Hurried footsteps echo in the hall, more guards and medical personnel arriving, and more hands grab at Hythlodaeus to lead him away as the others file into Hades's cell, healing magic sparkling into life. But the rest is not for him to see.

He doesn't quite remember the rest of it - the warden speaking to him about no more visits if that's the effect he's going to have on their prisoner, papers that he was given to sign, the walk back home, the breakdown he has once he's back. The rest of the day passes in a daze, and so do the next few days. At first, Hythlodaeus himself stays away from the prison for fear of what might happen to Hades if he sees him again, but eventually his worry and desire to help his friend win - especially when his fate is still undecided. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that these might be the last days he would ever see Hades again.

A few days later, he's led to the cells again, this time with redoubled guard to watch over the interactions. Carefully, hesitantly, Hythlodaeus steps closer to the bars, praying that his friend, too, has had time to calm down and perhaps recover somewhat.

"... Agesandros."

The choice of name is deliberate. Hades was the man his friend had been long ago; Emet-Selch, the title that he had to carry for thousands of years, long beyond the point of it having any true meaning anymore... and Solus was but a stranger, an unfortunate mortal, struck from the script early on, his body used to play a role that Hades had deemed necessary. But to Hythlodaeus, Agesandros is who his friend is now; a name given for this part of his existence.

He fights their attempts to heal him, shouting inarticulate words. But he is only one man and, between the guards and the healers themselves, he is easily restrained and taken care of. In the end they layer another, temporary spell to prevent him taking his own life whilst he's a prisoner and leave him be.

It makes for a sad sight when Hythlodaeus is finally allowed to see him again. At first glance he looks to be sleeping, until one notices that his eyes are open and staring blankly at the ceiling. He doesn't stir when Hythlodaeus speaks his name at first, but a few seconds later he utters a single, sullen word.

"What?"

It's a sad sight indeed, and Hythlodaeus finds himself wondering if his friend will... if he won't break completely if this goes on. He swallows, pushing his worries aside - it's not time for that yet.

"... I wanted to apologize for what happened last time."

Last time...? Oh.

His expression doesn't change terribly much but it does seem to flatten a bit.

"Why...?"

The obvious reasons aside, he sounds lethargic, worn, beaten. Near the door to his cell, a tray of food lies virtually uneaten. The bread only has a single bite out of it and the water in his wooden cup looks untouched.

His eyes flicker to the tray and Hythlodaeus finds his hands curling into fists nervously, nails biting into the skin. He's certain that the likely unimpressive taste of prison food is not the reason for Hades's lack of appetite.

"Because I've said things that hurt you. And I do not wish to see you hurt, least of all by my own hand."

His brow furrows faintly. Hurt? Hythlodaeus cannot possibly say anything that would hurt him. If anyone is deserving of criticism, it is Hades himself. For acting so cruel, for lying, for...everything.

He closes his eyes. Wouldn't it be nice to simply slip away in one's sleep?

"I thought I said I didn't want to see you again."

Fortunately, Hythlodaeus is at least unaware of the grim thoughts going through his friend's head. He steps closer to the cell, a hand resting on the bars.

"Why do you not want to see me?"

For a short while he is silent.

When I look at you, I feel so much love that my heart feels like it could burst. I feel so much inadequacy, at being second to you as well as second to your generosity and kindness - neither of which I ever possessed in great quantities even before the Sundering. I see in you a reminder of someone I used to be and never can be again.

Out loud, he merely says, "This is not how I want you to remember me."

Oh, how much Hythlodaeus would argue with those thoughts if he could but hear them. Out of them both, he's always felt that Hades's kindness and caring has ever been deeper than his own - perhaps because the other man rarely expressed it openly, but never stopped caring, for all his grumpiness. And Hythlodaeus... he's always been too whimsical, too easygoing. It's only here, in Avalon, that he'd been forced to gain a measure of seriousness, forced to reckon with the fate of their world.

"... And you believed pushing me away would achieve that, Agesandros?"

His head lolls to the side, away from Hythlodaeus.

"Then do you forgive me for what I did?" he asks in a barely audible mutter.

He pauses, giving himself time to think. It is a question Hythlodaeus has no good answer to. To forgive means to have blamed Hades in the first place, and that is not quite what is happening here. At the same time, there is no way Hythlodaeus would be fine with what his friend had done. Yet how is he to judge someone driven mad by pain?

"... I did not blame you," he answers quietly eventually. "Though I would have stopped you if I could, I cannot blame you for your pain and fear."

"...Fear?"

He scoffs, staring sullenly at the wall. "You cannot leave people like them alone, Hythlodaeus. They had to die, else they would have come for you again. They may have even killed you again. Would you have preferred that? To be killed over and over until I gave in to their demands?"

A derisive sound. "I think not."

There's a brief, sharp intake of breath from Hythlodaeus. Of course not. Of course he does not want that. But he still does not know what the best course of action would have been in dealing with the smugglers; after all, this world is much too different for someone used to the ways of Amaurot to puzzle it out.

"... I speak of fear, for I believe 'tis the fear of losing me again that drove you to such drastic action. If they were simply a danger to society, you could have turned to the knights, could you not? Yet because I was involved..."

He trails off, the mental images of the "sculptures" Hades had created and the leader's death rising up in his inner vision.

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cw: self harm

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME!!!!

<333

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