There is no repentance.

[warriorscribe]

Characters: Enoch and anyone
Setting: All around the tower, Oct 24 until the end of the event (please note a day or range of days and floor in your subject line!)
Format: I'm starting in prose, but I'll match you
Summary: After two encounters, Enoch's finally succumbed completely(or nearly so) to his transformation's urges, going after people who he knows have sinned. Or those who do so in front of him...
Warnings: There will be violence if confronted with a known "sinner", maybe death?

It took a couple of encounters and a little over a week of time. But Enoch isn't hiding anymore. He wanders the stairs with his Arch out and held in one hand, his stride confident and purposeful. He has a stern look fixed on his face, though his eyes may at times appear troubled.

He's searching for sinners. He hasn't yet realized there are no other means of getting candy than stealing, which is a good thing; that would make everyone in a costume guilty of the sins of theft and knowingly condemning another to die. As it is, there are people he knows who he will attack on sight: Those who he knows have signed away their souls. Those who would take them. He who has stolen. He who has killed God. He who allies with a demon. They who are demons. And those who torture, harm children, attempt to kill - he makes a detour to a terminal for those before continuing his patrol.

But he isn't without some piece of himself left, as his sometimes-troubled eyes might hint. Somewhere inside, he doesn't want to kill. So he does all he can. He shouts a warning, the only warning that makes any sense to his warped mind.

"All you who have sinned, your time for judgment has come!"

Comments

[warriorscribe]

*Great...well, in the end there were always the Puella Magi counting on him...*

Unfortunately, there are people who may need to reach me there. I couldn't switch with someone regardless of how badly their roommates wanted it...

[andajarofdirt]

Oh well. They'll just have to put up with my snoring.

[Casually shoving the monkey back into the water again.]

[warriorscribe]

I think you misunderstand the meaning of the word "need"...

*He watches the monkey. If this proves itself to be anything worse than scolding a pet, well...*

[andajarofdirt]

[Scolding a pet. Necessary stress relief... same thing, right? Jack squints a little.]

Do I?

[...in coming gay joke. 3... 2... 1...]

[warriorscribe]

Their ability to find me reliably could be a matter of life and death. If I were to switch rooms-...

*Okay, that's quite enough of holding the monkey underwater.* ....I should warn you that killing your pet would be a sin.

[andajarofdirt]

It's not mine.

[Defensive. Grumpy and defensive. Jack doesn't like the friggin' monkey, okay. Despite piles of evidence to the contrary. Shut up.]

I'm just borrowing. 'sides, it's not like he can actually die.

[warriorscribe]

He can't?

*The logical, then you're torturing him doesn't immediately come up, giving Jack a little time to sidetrack him.*

[andajarofdirt]

[Would this be a bad moment to pull the monkey out of the water and point a gun at it?]

Yeah! Won't feel a thing, or anything.

[warriorscribe]

*Probably! ...Enoch doesn't recognize that it's a weapon Jack's holding by what it is, but simply the way it's held.*

If he's invulnerable even to pain, then punishing him that way won't work.

*So are you lying or just stupid, Jack?*

[andajarofdirt]

Just because he can't feel pain doesn't mean he can't be annoyed, mate.

[The monkey, for its part, struggles a little in the hold, giving Jack a dirty look. Rather than waist a shot on it, though, Jack bonks it in the head with the barrel.]

Messy business, handling the immortal.

[warriorscribe]

*Enoch flexes his fingers, shoulders tensing. Well. Jack doesn't know it, but that hit a little close to home.*

How old is he?

[andajarofdirt]

Dunno.

[Jack pokes the monkey again.]

Couple decades?

[warriorscribe]

*He isn't sure how long monkeys live. But twenty years sounds like a long time for an animal that size.*

He might be feeling his age. I admit I don't know how a monkey's mind works, but when dealing with immortals, you must remember that even if they don't look aged, they are.

[andajarofdirt]

Hmm.

[Jack gives Jack a squinty, suspicious look, before finally releasing the hold on him. The monkey screeches loudly and then goes hide under Jack's hair again. It's taken to that perch as of late.]

I wouldn't know, never bothered to learn to speak monkey.

[warriorscribe]

I meant, perhaps he's grown bitter. If a monkey's aging is at all like a man's, that is. Some grow bitter, some content, some jovial, and some...simply tired.

[andajarofdirt]

...I think he's just grown content no one's shot him out of a cannon in a while.

[warriorscribe]

*There's a long pause as the part of him suddenly very interested in finding sinners tries to figure out if causing emotional distress alone counts as a sin.

There's another part of him reacting more understandably, and it's what speaks up while the other part of his brain is otherwise occupied.*

I think that must be why he's so agitated around you.

[andajarofdirt]

You speak monkey?

[Because that's the truly important thing here. Of course he turns to look at Enoch and winces on reflex, blinking away because wow, BRIGHT.]

[warriorscribe]

No, but I can't imagine being shot out of a cannon is enjoyable.

*Don't ask how he learned what a cannon is, but doesn't know what a gun is. Lucifel is a troll, that's why.*

[andajarofdirt]

Don't knock it til you try it, I like to say.

[To troll people and be a pest, he means.]

[warriorscribe]

Unfortunately, I'm not that sort of immortal.

[andajarofdirt]

Don't think there're many cannons your size either, mate.

[warriorscribe]

I think you'll find it to be less of a pest if you treat it more agreeably, in any case.

*Apparently monkeys don't count, then....*

[andajarofdirt]

What are you talking about, I treat him very agreeable!

[Jack looks offended.]

Haven't really used him as monster bait in nearly a whole week!

[warriorscribe]

I meant overall, you simplet-...

*Wait. This oblivious hardheadedness, persistent enough to even wear through his patience. The speech patterns, especially addressing him as "mate". He has encountered this before.*

You didn't happen to sell either your soul or your mother for a pearl, or something like that, did you?