towerofanimus | [CLOSED] i am the son and the heir

Entry tags:

[CLOSED] i am the son and the heir

characters: (jade!)Eridan Ampora and Orphaner Dualscar.
setting: stairs (floor added once it's decided)
format: Action
summary: In which a not!Ancestor and a not!Descendant get to know each other. Bloodily. And all thanks to some good ol' Valentine's chocolate.
warnings: Violence, gore, dismemberment.

[Eridan was still in a... mood, not quite sure what to do with himself or anything, really. He was starting to see Karkat's point in his disdain for the tower, all to clearly. If he were dead, Eridan reasoned, at least everything would be fixed. Somehow. But here he was, being a burden and an idiot.

He went to the stairs, looking forward to spending the entire day walking and exploring around, hopefully without running into anyone. He was good at that, after all, going unnoticed. No one needed to trouble themselves with him at all. And the tower was big enough that he could find corners to be alone without upsetting anyone. It still sucked, though, this not being dead when he should be. Pretty much everything sucked, lately.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[to say he'd been thinking of him would be an understatement.

ever since that singular moment in time, spying the youth as he hurried beyond his door and without taking notice of his presence, he'd been... enraptured. but in the most platonic of ways. it is as if something suddenly awakened inside him-- a sudden realization that led to a new conclusion.

this eridan was incorrect, he knew that. it was not his descendant, yet he could see clearly that they shared the same genes. it was that corrections were in order: perhaps if he hadn't so royally fucked up his relationship with his true descendant, as much as he didn't attempt to pull he weight nor consider it to be a loss, he wouldn't feel such a dire need in regards to this one. thus, after discreetly tailing him for some time, and seeing that the jadeblood seemed without a particular destination in mind... he decides to act.

he steps out from behind the corner, remaining a few stairs above the younger. instead of a sneer, there is a smile.]

Hello.

[Eridan reached, on instinct alone, for the weapons that were no longer there, and he cursed inwardly at the fact he'd been startled, which he was starting to really, really hate about the tower. Everyone seemed to walk in on him without warning and it only made him have a heart attack every three or four hours a day.

The minute flash of annoyance, however, vanished completely under a cold, rolling wave of fear in such a distilled form Eridan had not known he was capable of it. That was not just someone, like Willow or Aradia or even David. No. That was an adult troll, that looked hauntingly familiar. And he was smiling. At him. Eridan was certain that the last time he'd exchanged a word with the adult, he had not been very pleased with him. Now he was there, smiling, and all Eridan could do was freeze in place for a second, mind racing to figure out what the hell had he done this time.

He managed somehow not to cower, per se, and he stepped on the urge to run the fuck away, hard enough he managed to straighten his posture enough. Eridan licked his lips, the most obvious sign of his nervousness, and ducked his head in greeting.]

...ah. Hello.

[the reaction both pleases and irritates him.

on one hand, this eridan was smarter, he could tell already. anyone with half a thinkpan would feel a touch of nervousness in his presence, or at least they should. any young troll should fear an adult one, but him especially. though unfortunately, the annoyance... overrules this satisfaction. because no, eridan shouldn't be afraid.

he should love him. and he'd always thought that fear and love didn't go hand-in-hand very well: empress an exception. yes. always possible, but unlikely... he tilts his chin upward, appraising the other as he takes a few steps downward to be more at his level. his boots resound through-out the emptiness of the area rather loudly.

and once close enough, he places a hand on his shoulder. it is a strong, singular grip, that leaves very little room for escape. indeed, he admires, so alike and then not. differences and similarities that needed to be both fixed and cultivated. dualscar would be doing him a favor. he smiles a little wider.]

I believe we may have got off on the wrong foot before. An' I wish to make amends, if you would have it.

[Eridan was not the shortest of the trolls, by a long shot, but this troll made him feel small. He was defenseless, even if the other didn't know it, and the patent lack of anything resembling a weapon made him feel positively insignificant.

He couldn't fight - and he forced himself not to think that even if he had had a weapon on him, he still wouldn't have been much of a fight - so the only hope he had to walk out of this encounter alive, was to please his elder. This troll who was so very much like his Ancestor, and yet not. Eridan looked down as he approached, hoping the gesture was deferential enough, and refused to flinch at the touch on sheer will alone.]

If wwe did, it wwas my fault, surely.

[He licked his lips again, acutely aware, from up close, that the blood rushing through his veins in a frenzy was the wrong color to even begin pleasing Orphaner. But he couldn't stop to linger on that, no. He had to focus on his words, choose carefully and keep his toes out of his mouth if he wanted to keep his hide in one piece.]

I... wwould be vvery honored to be granted a second chance.

[smart indeed.

as if sensing that particular anxiety regarding the lack of weapon, his mind sets on a different course. the same track, but the train is moving much, much more quickly now. his handicap complicated thing; he is regrettably forced to move his hand from eridan's shoulder to the hilt of his blade. he then takes a small step backward, fixing him with an acute gaze as if that alone could hold him in place, and nods to the ascending flight of stairs.

there is a sort of urgency in his voice:]

To the next floor. I'll follow.

[because that is the one that houses the infirmary.]

[There were a million other things Eridan would much rather do, like being killed a thousand times over, than to go anywhere Orphaner wanted him to. But he was stuck, so to speak, and he could only nod tentatively, feeling the weight of that piercing look.]

Alright.

[He started up the steps, breathing so measured and controlled it gave away exactly how aware he was of the older troll's proximity, as he passed him up the stair. He wanted to run, his legs were screaming at him to just let go and take off in the fastest dash he could manage, but he refused. He curbed the urge and moved at a constant pace, heeding the urgency in Orphaner's voice as a warning to not linger too much, and trying to find the right pace so he would not look like he was running away. If he run away now, with his back wide open to the other, he was certain he'd be as good as dead.]

[good boy. he'll probably be able to hear the scrape of his sword as it's unsheathed, if he's paying that much attention. but he doesn't do anything with it, quite yet, as he follows closely behind his jade descendant.

the trudge of his boots come to a halt as they eventually find themselves in a hallway, the area itself seemingly devoid of any occupants. for now.
which was actually rather okay, in his opinion. preferred, in fact, if what he says next is anything to go by.]

Do try not to remain relatively quiet, hm?

[for as much as he loves him, the 'or else' is implied. and without waiting for a reply, the hilt of wearpon strikes out hard to the back of eridan's knees.]

[Oh, he heard that sword alright. He heard it and told himself that if he ran, he was dead. He stopped himself from assuming that if he didn't, he was dead too. But just barely. And then Dualscar spoke, and Eridan got that sinking, cold feeling that a pessimist knows best, the well-worn, empty satisfaction of being right about things going wrong. He opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't even sure what, but then he was falling down, so fast he barely got his hands in.]

Fuck!

[He looked over his shoulder, up and up, lips pursed tight and eyes trying to gauge how much the outburst had irritated Orphaner. Keep him happy, keep him happy, keep him happy and he'll go away.]

[dead might be better, at this point. the resulting noise does irritate him somewhat, but it'd be best not to take out his anger on the perpetrator... at least, in a way he didn't intend too. he stands a little straighter, looking down and almost smiling now at just how close they were. both of them were, really.

he aims a sharp kick into the youth's stomach-- or rather, the side of his ribcage.]

[Eridan felt the air leave his lungs, hissing through his teeth. He curled on his side, half raising on one hand, instincts screaming at him to run. And still, he tried to endure it and hold in place. Running was not going to do much good if he didn't have a plan. Or a diversion. Or something. He just stared up at Dualscar, sunglasses down his nose, then dropped his eyes.]

[dualscar kneels now, stepping a boot on eridan's chest to lie him flat on his back. and he uses the difference in their sizes to his advantage, placing his weight on the other to ensure he wouldn't move much... or couldn't, really. but with his handicap he knew just this wouldn't do.

he knocks the sunglasses away and the sword is held close to his face, rusted tip centimeters away from grey skin. he has to pin his elbow to eridan's shoulder; a little close for comfort, but it was better now. evening the playing field, permanently, would be the last to come.]

Keep the silence in mind, eh, love?

[because he will use his other half, if need be.]

[...yeah, in the list of things that hadn't gone according to plan, and the list of "times Eridan's life sucked beyond possible measure", this little stunt was placed neatly near the top of both. Eridan swallowed hard, suddenly holding dead still, and not because Dualscar's considerable weight was holding him in place. He couldn't really breathe well, but he didn't even care why. He stared up at Dualscar's face, unconsciously baring his teeth somewhat, terrified.

"Love." Ha. Fucking ha. But he couldn't laugh. And he shouldn't, so he swallowed hard again and barely made a sound. As close as they were, that was more than enough, he supposed.]

...a course.

[Oh, he was so dead. So, so dead.]

[a fuller smile this time, fangs even able to glint in the buzzing overhead lights. he is considerably pleased, his hand slipping from the handle of his sword to the blade and down-- him seemingly ignorant of the ensuing gash from the action, or just uncaring. but the closer it was to the point, the more control he could brandish. a thick rivulet of violet correspondingly drips down it, to create rich splotches in the whites of eridan's scarf.

he leans in, and carefully begins to carve his scars into his near mirror's face. every crook in it would be perfect, the varying depth of the scourge entirely accurate. he would ruin his visage as his had been so many sweeps ago, the marred reflection that occasionally haunted him.

but he still thought this served a better purpose, and eridan would be grateful for it later.]

[...ow. Fuck, that hurts. Eridan bares his teeth on reflex, muscles clenching and locking in place as he braces after the first cut. It doesn't register, at first, what Dualscar is doing. It hurts. It hurts. And he's never been so terrified in his entire life. There's white noise roaring in his ears, against the dead quiet all around them, marred only by the staccato of his own breathing.

And then it clicks, after a moment that feels like forever, as the cut begins to take form. And Eridan feels a moment of despair and hope mingled into one. Because that's one long, long, long scar and there's two of them... but maybe once he's done, Dualscar will let him go. He can endure this. He can.

So long as he convinces himself there'll be an end to it.

Right?]

[his hand is covered with a mixture of jade green and violet blood, but so much more of the former covers his front and clothes from how often he's momentarily drawn the sword away to admire his handiwork.. funny, how the more minor of injuries could appear so otherwise. the faux-gills are cut into the tender flesh of his neck, just below his jawline and but above the curve curve of his neck, and dualscar is beginning to see his masterpiece come together.]

You're doin' well. Not too long now, I don't think.

[not t o o l o n g at all, no. that's as far as his words of comfort will go, because that's all he really knows how to say. for as genuinely as he wishes eridan to be as satisfied as he is at the moment, he'd be an idiot to think his... transformation, may not take some time to become accustomed to.

following the end of that thought, he drives the sword into eridan's shoulder.]

[His breathing is little more than a soft whistle of air through tightly-clenched teeth. He commits the fatal mistake of relaxing a notch after the second cut on his face is done... because a tiny yelp escapes him when his neck is cut. Eridan bites the inside of his lip to keep from crying out. Okay. Fine. Those hurt like hell, because his neck moves even minutely every time he breathes, and now every breath is a little lovely demonstration of pain.

Then Dualscar's talking. Is it wrong his voice sounds almost soothing? Because it is. If he's talking, then he's done. Done. Oh god, please be done. Please.

Eridan screeched as the sword drove into his shoulder. There was just so much abuse he could take stoically. Just so much.]

[he ignores the screams as best as his patience allows him to. by which that means, he is completely and fully provoked by them but the chocolate has done its work well. if he had another hand to use, he'd cup it over eridan's mouth-- as gently as the situation could possible allow. but for now, it rings through out his auricular sponge clots without mercy; and at least, it convinces him to get the job done faster.

there's the sickening, momentary grating of bone against steel as its messily sawed through, the ligaments and tendons snapping under the sharp pressure. and finally through soft muscle and flesh once more. the sword clacks against the tiled floor to rest, and it's all over. he's far from being any sort of surgeon (read: better considered a butcher), though otherwise thinks the job neatly done... if it weren't so difficult to see through the pooling of jade blood.]

I said be silent.

[Eridan is in hell. He can deal with pain. He really can, but he can't deal with pain that doesn't stop and he has no way to defend from. And then, there's the fear.

The fear is worse than the pain, because the fear has his senses heightened and he can feel everything. The screech dies into a garbled, choked cry, and he feels the blade cut through skin and muscle, and then the panicked moment where it reached sinew. He thought, a tad hysterically as bone was sawed on mercilessly, that it would be better if Dualscar tore it off. More dramatic, more effective, the shock of it would probably kill him faster, too. But no, he was sawing it off, and every pass of the blade against bone reverberated through his arm and his spine all the way to his toes.

Then it was done, and with the clatter of the sword came the sharp reprimand. Eridan felt a burning pain in his fingertips... except he didn't have fingertips anymore, what with the arm completely severed. But his thinkpan kept insisting it was there and that if he could just move it, it would. It would. Revulsion rolled across his insides, even as he lost blood. He stared up at Dualscar, blood all over his face.]

...why?

[The whisper was little more than a quiet croak.]

Why?

[he repeats, honestly perplexed as to why eridan would need an explanation. why. wasn't it obvious why? he sheathes his sword smoothly, and consequently soundlessly with its blade slick with jade blood. and his hand is covered with it too, as he steps off from kneeling on eridan and stands. and now there will be large and soon small footprints of jade marking the otherwise pristine floor. he smiles down at his prey once more, though because of the angle of the light his face would be silhouetted.]

Because you share my sign, but not my blood.

[and this will make up for the differences, is what is implied. he reaches down to snag eridan by the front of his clothing, aiming to hoist him up to a standing position once more. he's just trying to help, honestly.]

I see.

[Eridan doesn't resist Dualscar's pull, not so much because of the pain, which is considerate, or the blood steadily flowing from his shoulder, but also because he's trying to reach that mental plateau. The same one he faced hundreds of times before, realizing the timeline was doomed and he was doomed unless he went back and fixed things. He knew that as soon as he reached it, he will find himself choking on sheer adrenaline and it will feel like everything's possible. He's scared of that rush. He's done plenty of stupid things under its influence, many of which have left him dead.

He wobbles for a moment, holding back, measuring his balance, ignoring the sick, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach because that's his fucking arm on the floor and no matter how much his mind screams at it to move, it will never move under his command again.]

I see.

[He repeats, a bit more strongly, voice barely managing not to crack, and he forces himself to look up at his... not-Ancestor with an almost serene expression on his face.

Almost there. Almost there.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[CLOSED] i am the son and the heir

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject