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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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.

"The knights..." He doesn't care if his disparaging tone offends the guards monitoring their conversation. "They would never have caught every single one."

No, if you want something done right then you have to do it yourself.

Rolling on to his side, back facing his friend, he curls up. It's strangely easy to ignore the gnawing hunger in his stomach now. What had happened to all his scorn for mortals? Well, it's difficult to keep when you act like one yourself.

"I am no better than them," he mutters. "No better..."

Having Hades turn away like this from him... hurts, all the more because Hythlodaeus does not know what he can do for his friend. It would be so much easier if he could at least touch him, but even simple physical contact is denied them now, as though being unable to see one another's soul was not enough deprivation already.

"You've lived among mortals for aeons," he murmurs in response, pressing his hand against the bars. "You've endured more than any heart can bear. 'Twould be folly to expect your scars to disappear merely because I am here."

He curls up all the more tightly. "I thought everything would be fine with you here," he mumbles. "Yet it only led to further heartbreak. Why do you all insist on keeping me alive? Let me die, like all the rest. Let me go."

There is shocked silence from Hythlodaeus. Though it likely was not intended like that - or perhaps it was, - but the words feel like being stabbed, like burning ice suddenly filling his lungs. Die like all the rest. Every day, Hythlodaeus struggles against the thought that his people's fate is sealed, and hearing Hades admit it like that makes him feel as though it really is. And perhaps there is no point in Hythlodaeus's existence, here or otherwise - perhaps he is doomed to fail no matter what; even if they restore the flow of time, he would return home only to witness the demise of their people. And this time he would not even have the hope of things turning out otherwise, the hope he'd held back then, one that says that surely, there is something we can do. But this time, there won't be.

Hythlodaeus stares at the floor, feeling the despair and panic spread through him. This past fortnight he's been pushing away the thought of Hades being sentenced to death, but hearing that desire spelled out again makes it return stronger than ever. What would he even do without his friend? He could not survive alone in this strange, cruel world; survive not physically but emotionally, with no one to truly understand how he feels, his inability to even remotely close his mind to the suffering of others in the way that mortals do in order to stay sane day to day. Alone, uncertain of how to prevent the Final Days and the Sundering, unable to cope - it's all too much for Hythlodaeus, the fear making his grip on the bars tighten. Please don't leave me--

Oh, what a selfish man he is.

The thought arrives like a trickle of freezing water down his spine, chilling everything. Yes, selfish and pathetic, trembling and crying like a child at the mere thought of carrying the duty Hades had shouldered for millennia. What right has he got to deny his friend, his bonded his rest out of that selfishness? If he feels like this, is he even worthy of Hades's love? Has he ever been worthy?

The self-consuming thoughts roll together, like rivulets joining into a stream, a river, a flood that washes away everything else. What is he meant to do? What can he do, well and truly? Perhaps there is nothing anymore. The shame of the realization how much he'd been hurting Hades by merely existing here feels like a red-hot vice on Hythlodaeus's heart. All he'd been is a false hope, cruelly given to someone who has already lost so much.

His head spinning, Hythlodaeus finally lets go of the cell bars. He's not sure how much time has passed - maybe only a few minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour. But what he does know is that he feels... unwelcome here, undeserving to be in Hades's presence. Perhaps he should finally honour his friend's requests and leave him alone.

"... Forgive me, Hades."

His steps uncertain, Hythlodaeus turns and heads for the exit, barely acknowledging the wardens and the usual procedures of visitation. Some of the guards give him doubtful looks - it's the second time he comes to visit their murderer and walks away looking as though his world has ended, but Hythlodaeus does not notice. He's never felt so lost before.

The quiet words cut deep. He sucks in a sharp breath and sits up, chains rattling across stone. But by the time he has twisted around, Hythlodaeus is gone. One guard gives him a narrow look before they, too, vanish, leaving him alone once more.

He falls back on to the cot and swallows back the hard lump which has risen to his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to the ceiling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"

His whispers dissolve into wordless crying. What is he supposed to do now? Once upon a time such answers came easily. Now, they lie as barren as the moon to which their god had been banished. He feels like he's losing his friend for the third time.

Hunger gnaws away at him little by little as the days pass - not that he is aware of their passage besides the occasional changing of the guard. The spell they've laid upon him to prevent his suicide compels him to at least drink from the water they provide, but he cannot manage more than a bite or two of the food before the pointlessness of it all washes over him and draws him into restless sleep. He sleeps and dreams of their city, gleaming in the twilight, then burning in the dark. He wakes with the phantom smell of smoke and blood in his nose and throat raw from screaming. And then exhaustion drags him back down and into the arms of his recurring nightmares.

Unsurprisingly, he gains a reputation for being mentally disturbed. This prompts a few of the guards to treat him a little more kindly but he is in no state to notice. Until, surprisingly, Hythlodaeus returns...

Hades looks gaunt now. Like a shadow wasting away. He silently watches his friend being led in, ignoring the flutter in his chest. Relief? Or something else...?

This has been a dark time. Even though with Irhya and Felih's help Hythlodaeus had regained some mental balance, it had taken a while for their assurances that he is not wrong to want Hades to live to get through to him. And in the end he'd had to confront that, yes, he cannot stay away. He does not want to live without his friend, even if that desire would only earn him further scorn.

As the guard leads him to the cells, Hythlodaeus's heart and mind fill with terrible worry. The days that have passed since his last visit all felt like eternity even to him, surrounded by people and colour and warmth. What would they feel like for Hades, locked away, all alone? He should have come back sooner. He should have visited more, or at least have brought him something...

Hythlodaeus clenches his fists to the point of pain, nails digging into the whitening skin. No, no, he doesn't care anymore - pride or fairness or selfishness be damned, he'll beg Hades not to throw away his life on his knees if he needs to. He'll plead with the king, too, agree to whatever conditions they may impose, as long as his friend is allowed to live and return to him. It's the only thing that matters now.

It's in a despairing state of mind that he's led into the cells, and those worries and fears only grip his heart tighter when he finally sees Hades - a shadow of his former self, looking starved, exhausted, broken. Hythlodaeus stops for a moment, biting back a whimper of despair, his body tense as though he wants nothing more but to run up to Hades, but between the audience and the way his friend had tried to push him away before Hythlodaeus stops himself. After taking a shaky breath, he approaches the cell, blinking away the tears welling up in his eyes... and then kneels in front of it.

"Agesandros..."

"Hythlo...daeus..."

The other man's name is whispered, almost rasped out. Hades is so tired. He's tired of being alone. Tired of seeing the world end in his dreams. Tired of everything. Slipping off the edge of the cot, he crawls weakly towards the bars, only to be stopped - just like the first time - by the length of his chains.

He sits on the ground, too exhausted to fight any more. "You came...back..."

However much Hythlodaeus had thought to have suffered up until now, all of it is nothing compared to the way his heart breaks at seeing Hades like this. No, perhaps "break" is not the word - it feels like it's being torn apart, slowly and thoroughly. This is wrong, so wrong, to the point it makes him want to scream.

"Of course," Hythlodaeus whispers, unable to hold back his tears anymore. "Of course I did... I--I always will, Hades..."

Stifling a sob, he tries to reach through the bars, hands stretching towards Hades - but once again the length of the chains is too short for them to actually reach each other. A little more, just a little more...

Frustration wells up in him and he drops his hands, biting at his lip. Why must his friend be denied something as simple and human as touch? Does anyone here truly think that Hades could be a danger to anyone anymore, broken down as he is? Does no one look at him kindly? Hythlodaeus grips the bars tightly, to the point of pain, and then looks up at the guard, a kind of stubborn pleading in his eyes.

"Please..."

The guard on duty hesitates, eyes flicking back and forth between the pair. They've had ample opportunity to observe the prisoner. They know very well the change wrought in Hades over the past few weeks.

They waver and then abruptly turn, pressing their hand on to some part of the wall out of sight of either of them. The chains go slack and pool a little on the ground, just enough to let Hades approach.

For Hades' part, he initially stares blankly at the lengthened chains. Then he slowly crawls forward, almost dragging himself the rest of the way to the bars where Hythlodaeus kneels.

That's more than enough for Hythlodaeus. He gasps at seeing Hades freed up a little and feverishly reaches through the bars again - to wrap his arms around his friend, draw him close, feel the feeble warmth of his body (and it makes his heart tighten so, that emaciated frame in his arms), share some of his own body heat.

"Agesandros," he sobs out, clinging desperately, mind flooded with both relief and more despair. "My love..."

He should thank the guard later, some part of him realizes dimly, but that's not important right now. Hades is all he can focus on, wishing desperately that he could simply take his friend away, bring him home, take care of him. Perhaps much later there would be time to speak of the atrocities he'd committed, the hows and whys of it and the ways to deal and atone. But... later, much later, if the king even allows him to live.

Hades presses against the bars, reaching through to grasp weakly at his friend's sleeves. The cold metal is a keen reminder of where they currently are and so he cannot enjoy the embrace fully, but he does close his eyes and exhale with a shudder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so tired, 'Daeus. Why is...living so difficult...?"

It takes Hythlodaeus a little time to reply; it's not easy for him to stop crying so quickly. He sobs silently, stroking aimlessly through Hades's hair, the other hand digging into his clothes.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Hades..."

He takes a deep breath, bringing one trembling hand up to cup Hades's cheek.

"It should not... It should not be. If I could but bring you home, away from all of this..."

Slowly but surely, Hades relaxes under the attention. His eyelids eventually flutter open again. He still doesn't understand why Hythlodaeus would continue to want to see him after what he has just done. Isn't he so far removed from the Hades his friend once knew as to now be a stranger?

He doesn't deserve such friendship. He doesn't deserve such love.

The thought brings heat back to his eyes and a tear slips down his cheek, over Hythlodaeus' hand. His stomach complains quietly but he's grown used to ignoring it by now.

"Has anyone...given you trouble? For living with me?"

Knowing how quickly mortals are wont to lambaste the spouses of criminals, he's horrified at himself for not asking sooner.

Edited 2021-08-23 12:13 (UTC)

For Hythlodaeus, too, that tear burns like fire - but in a sense, it is... better to see this than Hades's played-up, self-destructive coldness. At least his crying is genuine, and however small, there is a road to recovery there. Gently, he wipes Hades's tears away, thumb caressing his cheek.

"... No. Not... as of yet. They... try to paint me a victim, misguided, under your control." His voice is quiet, pained at the sheer wrongness of that, and he bites his lip briefly as he lowers his eyes. "They... some speak of you as an irredeemable villain. Others laud you as a hero, saying that... that criminals deserve such deaths. That if the knights cannot do their jobs properly, mayhap 'tis fitting that civilians take matters in their hands."

The guard observing their interaction frowns a little at the comment about the knights but otherwise keeps silent. Meanwhile, Hades shakes his head vigorously, a helpless sob breaking out. What sort of ridiculous joke is this?

"I am...no hero," he rasps. "What manner of...of people would laud a mass murderer as a hero? I didn't just kill them - I tortured them. I made their ends...as exquisitely painful as I could in the little time I had."

The knights know this for he had freely confessed it all to them in the interrogation. He expects no leniency from the king.

"But you are misguided, you soft fool," he mutters, leaning heavily against the bars, into Hythlodaeus' touch. "Misguided for coming back for a murderer."

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