chroma | WEEK SIX: EXECUTION

EXECUTION: CLARTE

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, Clarte alone will begin to walk through as though drawn. All you can do now is watch and wait.

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[the way im ready to throw pixi out through our window at any second rn

Also, the way his ass immediately moves to shield his sword from this nasty goop the second some splashes onto him and he realizes it's acidic. HE'S LIKE "I CAN GET THIS FLESH SUIT PODDED BUT WHAT ABOUT MY REAL BODY!!!"

He moves with the sort of quick efficiency of someone used to not only war and battle, but someone used to fighting enormous monsters. Creatures born from despair, twisted beyond recognition, are nothing new to him. It would be nice, he thinks, if every person lost could be found again. But sometimes, that isn't the case, huh?

The large mouth is probably too far for him to reach currently, so he tries bringing it closer to them, running along formerly-Danny's side to hack and slash at as many legs as he can get at to try tipping its balance.]

[ As Yasusada slashes through each mouth, it begins to screech, all of them compounding on each other until it becomes a horrible cacophony. The body begins to writhe and thrash, the legs skitter, and it only intensifies when Kashuu starts incapacitating him even further. Partially, he's just panicking, but partially--he's hoping to throw them off and swat them away.

The tall column of this insectoid thing eventually loses balance, its decapitated legs waving desperately for traction but failing. And then it falls over with a weighty thud and a final screech from the main mouth--an anguished cry.

The main mouth whimpers after a moment. He wriggles on the ground, but can't quite get back up. He's stuck like this--immobilized, injured...grotesque but ultimately helpless. As he should be.

As quietly as a creature this large can, Danny utters: ]

.̢.͘͠.̨͝o̴r ͡m͟a͢͢y̨̨͘b҉̢e ͠i҉̷t͏҉̶'̷s̶̢͟ ̸͞͞j̶̵us҉͟t҉ ̨͞͞m̢̀͜e͡͝.͟͝ ̢́M̴̕a̛͏́ybe ̸I͟'͟v̕e̴̶̢ a͏̡͞l̕͠ẁ̷ą̶̛y̛͞͡s̛ ̛͞b̸̸ȩ́e͜n͠ ̸̧́b̷̡ą̵d,̢͢ ̡d͜ee̡p̡̡ ͏͏d́͞͠o̢w̡͢n͘,̵ an͟͟d̡ ͟g̢e̕͜tt͢͠i̶̷n͠͝g ̶͞p̵̷o̸̴ẁ̡er͜ş̨̛ ͢͟j̕͘͜ù́͝ś̷t̶̀ m̵͡a̴de͘͠͠ ̷͢i͟͢t ơb͘v͞͡ì̴o͢ù́͝s.̢̕ ̢͟I̴̢͝ ̶was ̸alwa̴ý͢͡ş ́͡g͠͞ǫ̛ing͝ ͝͏́t̀͘o̶ e͞҉n͠͏d̕͝͠ ̧̧͘ú̵p ̕h͜ere͟,҉͏ ̸on͟͜͏ę̵ ̡͢w̡͟͡a̡̕͞ý ͘͟͠o̶r̷̛ ̴̀͞an̴̶ot̢he̷̡r̕.̛ ̀I͘͠҉t̨s͢u͏k̛̕į͞..͢.͞or̶̴͜ t̴͟h҉̸e͠ ̴e҉̢͜x̢͘pl̷̸o̵͟s̢i̵̶o̸̢͢ń͜.͝.̴.̢or̷̡ so̴m̀et͏̶h̷i͟͟͡ǹ̢͝g҉ ͏͟e̵l̕̕s͞ę,̢ ́̀a͢ny̴t̕h҉̷i̵n҉̶ǵ̛ ̨͡elş͠͠e,̷̛ ̵I'̴̵̡d̛ f́͡i̴n̴͡d̀ ̧t͏͢o͡ ̴̴͜ḑ͘es̴̛ţr͢o̢͜y͢͏͝.̡́̕

[ With great power comes great responsibility. And Danny...has failed to uphold that responsibility. Shunned it, the moment he came after Itsuki.

This...this is only right. He deserves whatever may come now. ]

[Danny's form is large and monstrous, but it truly isn't all that different from what they face at home. Yasusada doesn't recoil. The fact that Danny isn't really actively fighting them so much as instinctively trying to survive makes it easier to take him down, especially with Kashuu at his other side. Between the two of them, they get him down, blue still pulsing along his blade.

Forgiveness isn't his to give. He can't tell Danny what he wants to hear--what is a "bad" person, to a spirits whose sole purpose is to take the lives of others? That's not something for him to decide.

But he does know suffering, and he isn't cruel enough to want to extend it. As Danny speaks, he moves up close to his head, lifting his blade for one final strike. He doesn't have to look to see what Kashuu is doing.

When he speaks, his tone is also soft, but even. Not reassuring, exactly--but not hateful, either.]

It's over now.

[He'll be back to normal soon. On the other side--but aware of himself, and freed from the drive to hurt those he cares about. Death is a mercy now.]

[His tide of anger has already come and gone, with its last dregs pushing him forward and giving him the edge he needs to cut through this wailing, shrieking creature. He purses his lips and soundlessly takes any hits as it tries to scramble away, pressing ever forward, because as a sword, it's what he's made to do. You finish the mission, or you die trying.

There's a screech; there are garbled words. Every battle is life-or-death so he doesn't close his eyes, but his expression shutters. Nothing about this, from start to finish, has been fair by any measure. He can recall something in the back of his mind - a painful and unpleasant thing, which he shoves away again. At the very least, they can try to end things quickly. Cold comforts. Small mercies.

It's like he moves with a psychic tether; Yasusada doesn't need to speak, doesn't even need to look at him, for Kashuu to be darting back to his side, moving his blade in perfect harmony. Lifting it up, looking at the creature's miserable face--]

--See ya soon, Danny.

[Together, they bring their swords down in synchrony like the double blades of a guillotine, aiming for its head.]

[ Danny looks up at them through several of his dozen eyes scattered throughout this body. They see the blades rise, and they water. His eyes, all of them, begin leaking a viscous fluid.

He's crying.

But he makes no effort to move. He just closes his eyes and lets the blades drop on him. Even accepting it, though, he can't help but let out a pained, albeit stifled, shriek. ]

[and then danny begins to drip color, all of the excess of his form pouring off of him, leaving onto the empty husk of a child behind. the color bleeds away into the ground. it soaks the ground in bright neon shades, too bright for the eye to look at long, that hiss and fizzle, even appear to glitch on and off before they begin to cool, almost magma-like. the color burns to the touch, and the closer you come to it, the more drained you feel. you continue to be unable to look at this color without becoming sick and vomiting color yourself. finally, even what's left of danny melts away into color. danny fenton is dead.

also? the tears from execution remains open - there is still a wide portal into a black space in which dust is raining down, and smaller tears ripped in the air throughout the central node. unlike most sundays, they do not close, even now that execution is done. but if you try to approach these tears, you'll feel cold, a feeling of dread, the sense that your color is being drained away.

if you happen to return to the music room, there - well, there isn't a music room anymore. the music room has been eaten away by the expanding dark void in the center of it. it's just an empty space now, and it gives you the same cold feeling and sense that your color is being drained away.

the hole in heliotrope is expanding, too, starting to take over the living area. if you approach even near it now, you'll start to feel ill and you'll start seeing shapes and colors glitching around you. heliotropes, you might want to run in and get any of your belongings before things get worse...by Sunday night, it would be a bad idea for you to go back in there.

occasionally, when you look at one of these tears, you get the sense it is shaped like an eye looking back at you.]

WEEK SIX: EXECUTION

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