the prism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saturations) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
chroma2022-03-12 11:19 pm
saturations) wrote in chroma2022-03-12 11:19 pm
Entry tags:
WEEK THREE: EXECUTION
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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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. ]
no subject
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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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 ]