WEEK THREE: EXECUTION

[saturations]

EXECUTION: TRIAL BY COMBAT

Sunday morning starts peacefully enough, until around noon, when alarms start going off on your phones. The dreadful noise is accompanied by a reminder of the execution taking place in the Central Node. You can snooze the alarms at first, but they begin to get a little more insistent. If you're being stubborn, you can probably hold out until exactly 1 PM, when an archway opens right in front of you and pulls you in.

Today the Central Node is eerily quiet and empty. There are a few blankets laid out on the grass for those of you who wish to sit instead of standing the whole time. No refreshments have been provided, but the Residents are already there waiting for you.

As the last person enters the node, an enormous archway suddenly opens. This archway once again leads to an area which is pitch black inside, with white and grey dust falling softly like snow. The chilly air feels even colder than before, and you instinctively know you must not approach it. If you try to push through anyway, something is blocking your way. Smaller tears to the same space open in the air, at the very least. You can see what's happening, even if you can't follow.

Because - once the archway is open, Percy and Vax'ildan alone will begin to walk through as though drawn. All you can do now is watch and wait.

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[decisions]

[ of course that's how he knows—the paintball guns? they're a thing of beauty and genius, life, brilliance, and here is percy, back with gun smoke in hand. from the first boom black smoke has begun to pour out of the muzzle of the gun. the screaming mouth on the end is red hot from the sheet force of the blast. slowly, the thick, black ichor begins to twist itself, around his wrists and arms, churning upwards to flare out of the collar of his shirt like an abysmal halo.

it forms the maw of a great bird with... teeth? and glowing eyes. it takes percy's head in one fell swoop like a great mask and then he moves, rushing forward swiftly and not just firing into the pew, but smashing into it. the gun is part firearm, part battering ram.

when percy speak, the smoke oozes harder, inky blackness radiating from him, passes through his lips with another pained, rictus grin all wide with teeth, his and this strange, moving, smoking helm that slowly twists percy's hands around his gun, holds him fast and tight.

it spills down the blue of the coat. staining it dark. ] What are you doing, Vax? Hiding? [ he cackles, wildly, swinging down again—and missing, just wailing into the wall instead, having to wrench it free. the smoke flares out as percy whips the gun back and aims it once more.

(think, you useless bird... some part of percy whispers ferociously. think.) ]

[daggering]

[ vax gets behind one of the pews and glances backwards, just long enough to see the tendrils of black smoke. just the sight makes his stomach churn.

this isn't the first time he's seen this.

it gives him half a second of pause, just long enough. percy's swing slams into the pew and it shatters into pieces, vax barely leaping out of the way, showered with debris as he rolls to dodge out of the way again, and, staring into the face of that familiar, familiar mask, vax takes the paintball gun and points it --

at himself.

no time to think, here. no time to wonder if this is a good idea. no time to try to do anything but walk the razor's edge of death, taunting the fires of fate.

when has he ever thought, first?

he pulls the trigger. sorry, percy -

blam - ]

[daggering]

[ red hits the bone white walls of stone behind him, splattering a shape like feathers into the pews.

and then, out of nowhere, almost, there's a fwoosh noise - the smoke and dust and debris from percy destroying the pew is cleared, an instant, as a pair of dark black wings unfurl free out of vax'ildan's back, as he pushes his hand into the ground, and then fucking takes off in to the air, wings shedding red paint like blood, catching stained glass reflections on ink black feathers and sending them refracting and scattering across the floor of this strange, broken church.

as he rockets backwards, beside the face of his patron and imagining the face of his friend, vax's hand snaps to his belt, and then back out like a whip, as one of the lisa frank knives sails from his hand and at percy like a bullet in its own right, then another, then another. you know.

dagger, dagger, dagger. ]

[decisions]

[ as vax... turns the weapon on himself, something erupts from percy's fully formed smokey "helm" of sorts suddenly shudders, shakes. the sound is a wretched scream that sounds half percival and half something else, something gurgling from the bottom of a pit. the explosion—


and then feathers.

feathers.

there's laugh—it's relief, it's madness. the smoke swarms around him and as he tries to dodge the first knife, it hits him in the shoulder. the second tears past his cheek, grazing it, and the third?

well the third sticks straight into his knuckles, painfully, and he shrieks—the smoke shrieks and percy buckles briefly, the large gun clattering to the ground. as he looks upwards, supplicant on a knee, watching him rise upwards. the red paint spatters on the ground as it's shed from vax's wings with each powerful beat. ]

Well then. I suppose a change of plans is in order. How about something more familiar?

[ because out comes the paintball gun and percy darts, shooting to life a new, strong pew to roll behind. another paintball, old reliable some might say, but not in the way one might predict. it isn't bad news that finds itself in his hands, rather, an ivy green gun manifests then, the name emblazoned on the side: HER WILD MAJESTY. twists of brilliant fiery orange run down it, a marriage of earth and fire.

he turns it on vax and offers a soft smile and pulls the trigger, but instead of a BOOM, a soft hissing of green vines twist from the barrel and wrap around vax's legs, twisting up around and tangling him so that he can then yank like a massive whip, to put all of his momentum and force into it.

to send him careening into one of the many statues, though this one... should be familiar to vax'ildan in particular. ]

[daggering]

[ really never a better time for this icon huh

being up here gives vax all of the advantage he needs. airborne is how he prefers to fight, nowadays, and are more suiting of his form as the raven queen's champion. the knives hit their targets, one by one - he manages to get the grog gun to hit the ground, and that was what he was aiming for. adrenaline and relief courses through him, as the last of the red paint sloughs off and he gets whisper back in hand, turning the paintball gun to shoot something near his waist that wraps around him - it looks like a belt (though not a snake one), and then another shot creates a second dagger, this one red, that shoots into the holster like it belongs there. ]

C'mon, you bastard, let him out!

[ fucking prism. fucking orthax. this time he's ready for - for bad news. for diplomacy.

what he's not ready for is love, instead.

the vines grab him around the waist and the legs and he has exactly one second to think not again as the vines grab him and slam him across the church and into the chest of the raven queen statue. (this statute is not annoying.) his vision shorts for a second, vax coughing as he hears something crunch that had nothing to do with stone and pain rattles his body.

he scrabbles to grab purchase on one of the raven queen's carved feathers with his free hand and fires the paintbull gun down blindly in percy's direction. it splats into the ground, and throws up a statue among the pews, right in front of percy to try and cut his sight before he grabs him and throws him with the vines again, with keyleth's fucking vines.

this statue is not annoying twink shaped, either, but rather one of a large man. maybe it will buy him a second of pause enough to grab that red dagger. ]

[decisions]

[ the statue suddenly slams into place and the vines loosen due to the particular angle at which he's twisted himself. the vines eject from the barrel of the gun and instead waver and twist anew as he fires again, this time... for the statue. for the man he knows— ]


Sylas!

[ he roars, twists the vines and the gun again and yanks so the statue's head wrenches off one. two. three. pull. the rage swarms, and as it does, so do the shadows. the shadows around him shriek, an ear-piercing noise that ricochets throughout the vaulted ceilings overhead. the watercolored stained glass shudders, but doesn't break, a bastion as faithful as its lone follower.

percy kicks forward and will toss the beautiful green gun aside as it starts to twist its vines angrily around the beheaded sylas briarwood.

instead, he whips out the paintball gun, firing not once, but terrifyingly twice into the air. in a flash, a pair of twin pistols manifest in the air and tumble downwards into percy’s hands. the first in a brilliant teal color with a teal feather dangling off of the shaft of the gun. there are scales decorating down the top of it and a (cute, little) bear paw on the shaft. across the barrel in brilliant cursive:

THE GRAND MISTRESS

the other is black, matte, with a stripe of deep, rich violet down the center to the barrel. dangling off of it, a black feather and a series of multiple colored glass beads. a dagger emblazoned on the side along with:

DUSKMEADOW

and he lets loose on the sylas statue with the teal gone, the other pointing straight ahead at vax and letting loose three fast shots, blindingly sharp.

duskmeadow? is silent as it fires off and zips through the air. you would almost think it backfired (but percy's been reading a lot about guns, and his mind is reaching towards every single design he could possibly ever want to create. every single thing that could quench this rage—the fire, the fire, the fire of the forge, of a hot barrel, of his heart with every kick of it.

but he's open like this. reckless. wild.

the smoke plumes upwards and into a strange shape. hm. probably fine. ]

[daggering]

[ to win against percy, you have to use your smarts. percy is brilliant - it's one of the best things about him - and ruthless, and trying to defeat him at almost anything requires an awesome amount of power and a terrifying amount of skill. vax wanted this fight more reasons than just a promise. if it's him, no one else would get hurt. if it's him - he knows how to handle percy, no matter what happens.

not to mention, if it's vax - vax knows what will make percy - what will make an orthax possessed percy - scream with rage, and its the briarwoods, long dead as they are.

there's a sense of weighing guilt as he manages to scrabble his hold on the raven queen statue and grab the red dagger from his belt. the tip of it bursts into flame, and he slices through the vine holding him still with a laborious, pained breath, because his distraction worked and it gave him enough time to kick off of the statue and get back to it. ]

Percival, they're dead!

(you have to do this. you have to do this, you have to.)

he shoves the handle of the flametongue dagger between his teeth and maneuvers the paintball gun, shooting downwards, again, creating another statue when percy fires into the air - a woman this time, sprouting up next to her dearly beloved, dearly departed husband, and then swaps the two, grabbing the gun by the handle and shoving it into the belt at his side so he can have both of his hands free for his daggers. he sees the two pistols in midair, and his stomach twists, because he has a feeling those might as well be emblazoned with vax and vex.

as vax starts to fly away from the statue, pushing off to the side to get a better angle, his mind is racing. if he can throw the flametongue dagger from this spot he might be able to slap the paintball gun out of his hands, might be able to pin him to the ground and end it quick, make it quick, get it done, finish it, come on -

but then, the black statue duskmeadow's shots go off and vax isn't ready.

the first one hits him in the leg - he lets out a sharp noise, a grunt of pain, as the second glances off of his side out of sheer rogue skill, and the third bullet punches through his shoulder, sending a spray of blood across the back of the stained glass church. vax rolls in the air, the force of the bullet sending him somersaulting backwards, and he flings the flametongue dagger down at percy as he does, letting it cut through the smoke of orthax in a glow of bright red fire, streaking downwards from the sky in an assault.

relentless. relentless, and moving, until he can't anymore, until this is taken care of. the raven queens' champion does what has to be done. ]

[decisions]

[ they're dead.

she appears next and percy's face screws up tightly beneath the smoke, barely visible. he's firing both guns now, right into the woman's face, and the smoke billows from the cuffs of his coat, the paintball gun hanging off his shoulder for easy access. as the dagger shoots down, percy doesn't realize it until it's too late, gasping as it cuts into the coat, sinks into his flesh, muscle, wrenching. the sheer impact has him dropping duskmeadow in an instant, though tightening his hold on grand mistress.

he points it at vax.

he screams again. the creature around him wails—pained, aching, sobbing fills the area for a brief moment. half there, half-human. percy. he's gasping, the acrid smoke flooding his lungs. a wetness streaks down his cheeks as he grabs at a familiar-looking pendant around his neck, a silver skull of a raven on a chain. he holds to it, the teal gun in his hand trembling, truly, off-kilter as it wavers its direction at vax for all of two seconds.

and then fires a shot off at one of vax'ildan's wings. and misses.

he fires again. and he misses.

and he fires one last time. and he just barely gets it, right through gristle and bone before dropping it to his side, more gently than the rest, it lands at his feet. he trembles, his mind racing, trying to find is way through the churning waves of wanting to kill him, tear the wings off his—

a hand, great and inky black, takes his head, snaps it forward sharply and percy feels it. the corners of his mouth. another painful grin as he takes up the paintball gun, one of his shoulders slack from where the knife had penetrated so damn deeply, he fires into his own fucking hand and in a splatter of yellow and purple, a dual-colored magnum of the same coloring—a brilliant gold and a metallic purple.

he points it straight ahead, but his hand... it wavers, where he aims with one, he puts the other on top of it, trying to wrench it back, wrench it down, down, down, for all of two seconds before it snaps back up.

a purple bolt of (oddly dick-shaped?) lighting fires outwards. however, as it does, percy is blown back sharply, and his injured shoulder snaps back wetly.

oh and the name on the side, i guess...

HEAVENLY CHORUS. ]

[daggering]

[ percy's screams and half sobs cut through the pain as vax reels from the hits, finally managing to right himself before his back hits the wall, as light refracts from the stained glass and paint and blood drip down his arm.

pain rattles through his chest and his vision blurs, but vaxildan hears that scream and pushes onward. he grabs whisper in his left hand and the paint gun in his right, barely working, mind racing, as desperation clings at the edge of his reeling thoughts. there's no way to fix this, not this time, no vex'ahlia with her warm voice and her hands telling percy to take off the mask, darling. just vax, and his knives, and his too clumsy attempts at help.

the first two shots he manages to have the wherewithal to dodge - one flies wide, and he ducks under it, wings extending, and the second shot flies past him, and vax grabs whisper to throw it -

he doesn't get the time, though.

is this what it felt like, to those dragons, as percy dropped them from the sky? these wings are connected to him as any other limb would be, and the bullet tears through muscle and sinew and leaves feathers in its wake. it drops, useless, and it only takes years of taking injuries not to scream in pain as the world upends and he starts to plummet.

one eye shuts. vax's mostly useless right side is deadweight, and he manages, as a last ditch effort of survival - he pulls the trigger and thinks if you can hear me now is the time.

the paintball hits the ground at percy's feet.

and it blooms, not into structure upwards, but downwards - from a splatter to a pool f dark, dark red liquid, rapidly spreading and deepening and taking the floor with it. blood, blood like the blood coming out of his arm, blood like the freely bleeding wing at his back, blood like percy's, blood like the communion of the raven queen, and vax closes his eyes as he's free falling.

which is good, because he gets hit with the lightning strike about a second later, the purple blinding and the heat vicious electrical burns, he'd said at trial, hurt like a bitch - thankfully, it is not a direct hit, but glancing off the edge is enough, isn't it? his consciousness wavers, as the pool deepens and deepens to overtake percy, too, vax hits the surface with a splash, as bright red liquid flies up from the impact and he drops deep into the pool. ]

[daggering]

[ and it's kind of crazy... but did you know?

sometimes, bubbles come to the surface of water - or in this case, blood - and sometimes, a little splash of colored paint is all they need to pop, for the whole world to see. ]

[ it must be three or four in the morning.

[ you are roused by vex'ahlia, who looks exhausted even if she's smiling, because it's your turn to do the nightly watch. sitting on the shore of an island, you see her move over to percy, and shake him awake, too. this is routine, for vox machina - no noe sleeps all at once, especially not in the open like this.

percy comes over to sit by you. the only sound is the occasional owl, hooting softly, and the sound of the water lapping up to the shore. tomorrow, you'll search for a vestige belonging to the champion of the raven queen - it will be like any other quest you all take on. you'll get through it, like you got through whitestone, together.

you look at percy, feeling a conversation much needed blooming in your chest, and you start to talk.

(1:15:38 - 1:19:26.) ] Percival. [ there's a yes? ] De Rolo. How are you doing? A lot's going on. A lot. But it hasn't been that long.

[ "No, I'm pleased for the distraction, honestly. I feel--" percy sighs, and you can see the weight of it on him, as you watch his expression in the moonlight. ]

Has Orthax fully left the building?

[ the demon he'd made a contract with, that took him over, that nearly got them all killed; you remember with perfect clarity the sight of percy's horrified face as he struggled with the creature, tried to rip it from his own body.

none of that is there, now. "I don't hear anything anymore, if that's what you're asking."

good. relieving. you glance to vex'ahlia's form across the way, and back to percy, who continues. he's vulnerable, here, speaking so quietly that you'd almost think he wasn't addressing you at all, but you listen.

"I think-- I think all I'm manifesting at this point is scars. Honestly, I feel a little lost now. I'm really not entirely sure what I'm doing with myself. "

you stop him. ] Can I tell you, I believe you are a good man.

[ percy turns his head to look at you, surprised. "...thank you."

because you do. you always have. you've thought percy to the best of you. charming, intelligent, fierce on a battlefield. even if he's a dick sometimes - and he is a dick, sometimes - he is someone you admire, and someone you care for.

... and someone you see too much of yourself in. ] If you listen to your better angels, and they're within your friends. Listen to them. I don't want to be pushy. I'm sorry. But you have a family, if you want it.

[ because that's what you are, isn't it? vox machina. a little, broken family, holding each other together. you're so much more than just you and your sister, now.

"I know. I've been thinking, a lot, about why we're together and what we're doing. And the conclusion that I've been coming to so far -- " another sigh, here. "- and Pike being the exception to this rule, as she's the exception to so many things, is I think we're very broken people, but I think together, we are far greater than the sum of our parts. I like who we are together, and I think that's important.

your heart swells in your chest, and you say, softly: ] I agree with that.

[ percy continues. "And I like the influence that everyone has on each other, and this includes, perhaps, you taking some strides with yourself."

this catches you by surprise. you turn, looking at him fully, eyes a little wide. ] ...how do you mean?

[ percy looks at you, and you think, maybe, he sees you in a way that no one else does. he knows you, because the two of you are too fucking similar - and you're really only realizing it right now, as he keeps talking, just a low voice in a dark night. "It's good to want things. It's very, very good to want things. It's also very, very good to have things. It's good to-- it's good to find the things that are important to you and move towards them. I'm in a place where I'm realizing that I have to make decisions about what's important, and I'm a little envious that you seem to be ahead of the curve on that.

that's. funny. it's almost funny, because you think he couldn't be more wrong, and the corner of your mouth pulls up, but it's not a happy smile. ] ....I wish I felt that way.

[ percy says - "i know."

silence falls between you, for a moment, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid, of words you don't even know how to form with your mouth. you keep going, stumbling forward. ] - Well. I started talking to you. I just - I'm sorry, if I've done anything to offend you.

[ "Never." ]

...We're a bit of an awkward family, but we are trying. [ and this time, when you smile, it's genuine, head ducked, turned to look at percy. you look at him, and you think, and i am so lucky to have you. awkward, broken little pieces that you are, you found a way to fit together.

percy sits back, a little, and makes eye contact with you, and something is happening, here. "...and I apologize for any of the mistakes I've made, and honestly any of the mistakes I'm likely to make, but I am starting to imagine a better version of myself. I'm not quite sure who that is yet, but there is a destiny, I think, for us all together."

a better version of myself, you think.

if you can do it, i can, too.

(it is twelve hours later, when percy reaches into a coffin, and accidentally triggers a trap that kills your sister, and when it's all said and done, vex'ahlia revived by a promise that your soul belongs to the raven queen in exchange, you look at him, and you think, i will never trust you again.) ]

[decisions]

[ percy falls in, there's no preamble. the blood blooms too quickly and he is sunk his shoulder is raw and stinging hot and the animal part oof him wants to swim back to the edge of the pool of blood. the thing inside of him is screaming, shrieking, hungry, starving. more gunfire, more smoke, more blood.

and then the memory appears and percy is taken back to that very moment, a memory he recalls with a ferocious detail. everything about vax'ildan from the stray hairs at his brow to the way he rattles along in his slangy sort of speech.

he's always overwhelmed by him. overcome. percy's expression looks torn, twisted, fury and tears as the smoke begins to swirl and writhe, twisting on a pin point as he starts to swim to where he knows vax went down, to where he saw him sink down. ]

[decisions]

[ and then he dives.

under.

and under.

and under. he's kicking, driving, pushing.

the smoke is trying to follow him, clinging to his ankles, pluming from the pool.

but there is vax'ildan, a dark smudge in the fluid he can barely see through, but he reaches anyways, he stretches out his hand and grabs him by the wrist, kicking and kicking. his lungs are starting to burn, and the thing woven in between his ribs is straining, cracking, demanding, the rage that takes its shape now as this beastly thing sewn into the lining of the jacket. it's unspooling, he's unravelling, and as he can see the barest shimmer of light through the blood, the copper and viscosity burning his eyes—

he both gasps and chokes as he arrives, breaking too slowly to accommodate his greedy gasp for air. the helm is gone, and it's just percival, even if the smoke still leaks from his eyes, a black ichor that collects like coal and tar. he's fumbling, paddling, and then thrusting vax up onto the ledge out of the pool of blood, hauling himself up as well with a sputter and a cough. ]

Please...

[ soft, hoarse. he's swimming for the ledge, his body slick with blood, coating his hair as he surfaces.

there is no sixth gun.

you see.

(he's the last bullet. aimed straight for that space in your heart you keep for him. for some bizarre reason percy will never understand.)

he looks vax in the eye. ]

I... Vax...

[ he grabs for him. just. grabs for the front of his shirt, tears in his eyes, streaking through the red. he's still trying to fight, his body jerking forward. ]

[daggering]

[ when vax his the surface of the water, he is unconscious.

or, at least he thinks he is. this feels so familiar. the first time he went to the temple of duskmeadow, vax'ildan willingly stepped into this blood pool, until it submerged him, and stayed in it until he thought he was going to drown. the blood is viscous and cold, cloying as it clings to his body, and he closes his eyes as he sinks, and opens his mouth to let it flood in.

sink or swim, live or die.

it got warmer. vax remembers that, too. he remembers the way light came like a pinprick and then broadening. he remembers that if he just let himself go - and hasn't he always, in some way, wanted that? didn't he used to play with fire in hopes that he'd get burned?

the light comes, again. vax wonders if the raven queen will be there. it's bright and getting brighter and his body's moving, again, broken and beaten - and then, suddenly, vax'ildan is resurfacing, and though he can see the raven queen's visage just above his head, when he gasps for air and all of his ribs rattle and ache -

it's percy, who pulls him free.

gasping and heaving, he blinks blood from his eyes as he's thrown onto the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood that could have been swallowed or could just be from his lungs, and sees the smoke, but he sees percy. he actually sees percy, even if he's terrified and angry and covered in blood and viscera and the past like a gauntlet - it's still percy. the sight brings half a smile to his face. ]

...Took - took the mask off.

[ it's wet, and half of a joke, in a way that it can't really be. in the way that he knows, now, what he has to do. he knows, through the pain, as percy lifts him.

another bubble pops as he moves his hand, still wet with reddish paint color - this memory is only three seconds long, and the blurry vision is just agonizing pain and the sight of the lower half of percy's face, as he clicks the pepperbox and puts it to his head - then a sob, and the sound of a body hitting the floor - and vax won't let it happen, he can't. he won't.

vax shakes the memory free before he can linger in it, as percy grabs him by the shirt, his head lolling, still a little dizzy, and he looks him in the eyes, too. that's percy, in there - he's fighting.

he takes a deep breath.

(Listen closely, Vax'ildan Vessar... don't try and take my death from me.)

and vax smiles, for real. it's miserable, but it's a smile, and he reaches up with his barely functioning arm to curl his fingers around the raven skull pendant, smoke curling around them both. ]

...Love you, Percival. We fucking love you.

[ all of them. vox machina. the people of the prism - those who had come to love percy, actually percy, not this, not the monster he claimed he was.

vax'ildan thinks of vex'ahlia. ]

I'll see you again, soon. [

vax'ildan takes the blood soaked handle of whisper, and leans forward to bonk his forehead against percy's, that close, unafraid of retaliation, unafraid of injury, unafraid of orthax or the prism or anything this place or the world could throw at either of them, under the watchful, impassive face of the raven queen they've both come to know -

and pulls the dagger free to plunge it into his heart from below. ]

[saturations]

[at death's door.

the knife comes up - and then stops.

...You didn't choose this, either.

someone whispers. the whispers build and build, as color swirls up from the ground. amber first. and then gold, rising up and twining into the smoke. ... Even if it's not much, these hands were really kind to me. I'll remember that. and then, another voice: I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever.

all this time, you've heard the voices, the essences, of the people you love the most in the echo of a bullet. a song of violence.

but not this time.

this time, as the world around you rises and falls with color, breathes in and out like a living thing, you stop to listen to the sound of love, instead. both of you do. because vines curl up, twining around your legs and around your torsos, firm but gentle. pull you away from each other. a reminder, a scolding, from someone who would never allow this to happen. you can almost hear her voice, but the words aren't quite right. the words don't belong to her, but someone else, vibrating with a gentle yellow.

The Percy, that I know... I won't ever forget. He is kind, gentle.. he carries, a lot, while supporting, everyone else.

and then there's a bright, warming light. vibrantly green, like the rainforest, like the smell of fresh grass. it soaks down over the both of you. a voice, echoing:

You're just a man, Percy. That's what you are. At the end of it, all you've done... you're just a human being. Nothing more. Nothing less.

and the light starts to form. a woman, with long hair in a braid, a feather tucked neatly away. she is faceless, just the barest outline, but you feel as though you know her. with grace, she reaches first for percy, resting her hand against the side of his face. when she does, the smoke is blown away, scattered to the winds. she strokes his cheek, and lets it fall away. there's a humming in the distance, something almost like a prayer, as she turns to vax, and copies the gesture - only for a moment, before pinching his nose between her thumb and forefinger, teasing. when she does, the blood he's coated in evaporates.

there's the sound of glass shattering, a sharp pink battering at the boundaries of the world you're in. a whisper: I cannot say for certain whither each soul departs. I know only that the apartment will be changed without yours.

and another shatter, as the archway groans under the weight of fierce yellow. Thank you... thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being here, for being you. You have made being here less lonely... less scary.

maybe it's a trick of the light, but you both swear that the verdant woman winks. and then she's gone, as a bracing wind blows through the archway and dissolves the church, the blood pool, every bit of anguish that you've seen crawl through on broken hands and knees. a final, bright blue whisper:

I'm going to see you marry my sister, you bastard. We're going to kill Raishaun, and Thordak, and we're going to save Tal'dorei a hundred times over. We're going to fucking kill a god, Percival. Okay? We're getting out of here.

and then the archway opens. and both of you are free to go.]

[decisions]

[ he finds himself filled with the most incredible sense of peace as the knife is poised—

but never strikes.

percy doesn't know what he's witnessing. he doesn't know what to do when the hand caresses his cheek, and he looks up and sees nothing but light, light, light. he trembles briefly in the touch, feels the rush of words flood him, flood his heart. he's full to bursting and for a moment he's left staring straight ahead at the verdant woman, his lips parted, his heart pounding, and somewhere in the ruins of his ribs, he can feel her there. she's always there.

he blinks... slowly... breathes... slower. ]

I love you too...

[ before he then begins to rise, slipping a little at first in the blood but he just firms up his grip and takes vax'ildan, slides his arm over his shoulder with the utmost care he can give...

and he will proceed to walk out of the arch. ]

[daggering]

[

he's not sure what to feel, at first - the familiarity of the voices, the feelings, the smell of fresh grass, the warmth of amber, as his shaking hand holds the knife, as he goes to follow through on a promise he couldn't stand to make, on a duty he had to have.

but all the colors and the sounds blur together, and vax's heart stops when the figure of light appears. he holds still, deathly still, and as the hand comes to his face, vax -

he sobs, like a child, just once, reaching up like he could hold the hand there. whisper falls to the ground with a clatter, as if he could keep, keep - ] Vex'ahlia -

[ and then she tweaks his nose, and he laughs, wet, tears dripping down his cheeks, and half bats at it out of sheer instinct.

as everything fades away, and percy speaks, sort of numbly, and starts to rise, vax, uh, really can't. he's down to about one hit point here.

thankfully, percy has him. he has him, doesn't he? they have each other.

("you earned my trust back, percival.")

he manages to get up, with percy's help, slings his arm around his waist, and spares one look back at the disappearing paint and church - at the fading face of the raven queen in the distance, impassive, never moving.

("There is destiny, but you still guide your path where it must go. Especially you, fate-touched. You're one of the few that bends threads near and around you.")

and bleeding, broken, and dazed, the two of them can make their way out of the archway, and back to the group once more.



ty post the cr chart i cant take another surprise ]