Caleb Widogast (ermendrud) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-05-18 21:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread |
WHO: Caleb Widogast
WHAT: Facing His Fears
WHEN: Tuesday, May 18th, Evening
WHERE: Somewhere in Central Park
STATUS: Complete.
WARNING: Character death. Also, Trent is real creepy, y'all.
He had been avoiding it for a week, knowing full well that if everyone else's monsters were there, his own monster was very likely present in the city as well. Knowing Trent, he was laying low somewhere, waiting. Studying. Getting a feel for the lay of the land and the things that inhabited it. His old teacher wasn't a fighter by nature, he was an academic. But the years of study had given him a vast array of skills and access to magics that Caleb hadn't even begun to dream of. Were it not for their past, for the things Caleb endured to become a Volstrucker, he might have envied him all that knowledge. As it was, the feeling that settled at the tip of his spine and the pit was his stomach was ice-cold fear. He had tipped his toe in the idea of hatred at well, but he could quite bring himself to really feel it. There was too much there. But the fear, at least, was warranted. And yet. And yet Caleb still stepped out of the hotel on Tuesday night and found a bench a good deal away from the hotel - far enough away that he could barely see the outline of the facade in the city lights. He held the amulet around his neck in his hand for what felt like hours, staring at the grass in front of him, before finally pulling it off over his head and sticking it in his pocket. He'd no sooner removed the amulet than he heard the voice in the back of his head. Ah, there you are... Trent murmured. I thought you might not show yourself. You and your friends did very well against that dragon, didn't you? But your friends aren't there with you now. Caleb took a deep breath and leaned back against the bench. He rubbed at his eyes and slowly started unwinding the bandages around his arms. His friends weren't there, no. He wasn't sure anyone even knew where he was. And that had been by design. If he'd told any of them they might have tried to come with them or stopped him from going at all and he didn't want any of them to get hurt. But he also knew he had to face this fear. Not just of Trent himself but of all the possibilities that came with being locked in a space with him one-on-one again. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat when he finally sent a message back. "I'm not hiding. Come, or don't. It doesn't matter much to me." But of course, it mattered. Of course, they both knew it mattered. And they both knew that Trent would have come whether Caleb wanted him to or not. It was better they did it on his terms if that was even possible. He didn't have to wait long for that either. A crackle of energy next to him and the distinct smell of ozone and Trent was there, lowering himself on the bench next to Caleb and stretching his arm out behind him. He smelled the way dusty old books in a library smelled. The faint decay of old paper. Grass and vanilla. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped the discarded bandages on the ground. He slowly rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, Trent's gaze hot on his forearms. Everything felt like it was resting on a knife's edge and Caleb didn't know which one of them would be the first to tip it sideways. In the end, it was Trent. Always impatient. Always ready to prove that he was the one in control. "Are you done running?" he asked, brushing his fingers over Caleb's shoulder and idly straightening his collar. "I'm here, ja? Do I look like I'm running?" Trent's lips curled into a thin grin. "Not yet." He felt a shiver roll up his spine and tried to keep it tamped down, but he felt his shoulders tense and tremble. "I just want to talk," he said. "Do you?" Trent canted his head to the side. "Or do you want to show me what you've learned, and hope that it might be enough?" It was a fair question, he supposed. But he didn't doubt that Trent had his ways of knowing exactly what Caleb was capable of now. And they both knew that it was nowhere near enough to matter. If they could do this without throwing spells at each other though, Caleb might be able to at least get something useful out of it. He hadn't been able to do that when they'd all been sitting together at dinner. First, because his friends had all been there watching him. Second, because Astrid and Eodwulf had been there and there were things he couldn't say in front of them without first getting a feel for where their loyalties lay. He wondered if they were here somewhere too. Were they still a threat to him back home? Had they ever been? Wulf, maybe. But Astrid... He felt Trent trying to slide into his mind and shook him right back out again. "Nein," he said to no one thing in particular. "Ich möchte reden." The older man sighed and drew his hand back to his lap, turning to face the rest of the park laid out around them. "Oh, Bren..." he hummed. "You've always been a terrible liar." He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and before fully realizing what he was doing, had a hand out to counter it. The spell fizzled in Trent's palm, a shock of dark energy dispersing into the night. He shifted away and rose up from the bench, taking a few tenuous steps away from him. Stupidly, he hadn't planned this out. He had honestly thought that Trent might be willing to just sit and have a conversation with him. But he supposed they were both too far gone for that now. Nearly anything he had to do, Trent would know the second the spell began. But he could wear him down, maybe... even someone as powerful as him could only do so much. Caleb flung a spell at him, barely caring what it was because he knew that Trent would counter it. And they went on and on and on like that for what seemed like ages. One impotent spell after another. Caleb threw everything had had at him and Trent shot at the same blueish black energy at him each time. It must have looked really stupid, he thought. Just sparks of light cracking to life in their hands before fizzling out. Truly fucking ridiculous. But what else were they going to do? Caleb was doing everything he could to stay alive and Trent was just showing off. That was how it had always been, hadn't it? And he would know that it was over the second that Caleb pulled the little clay cat's paw from his pocket and a flick of Trent's wrist shattered it in his palm before he was even able to start casting it. He should have made a hasty exit then, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to run any further, not when he had been running for so long and it hadn't done him one damn bit of good. He plucked out a bit of iron powder and, again, Trent ended the spell before it even cast. Caleb was swiftly running out of options. He tried to murmur the next spell under his breath, but Trent finally rose from his place on the bench and closed the distance between them, grabbing Caleb's wrists in both his hands. "Aufhören." He tried to wrench free, but Trent's grip just tightened. The only thing that Caleb could think was that he would have to let go to cast, so he released the spell, and three burning rays right into the center of Trent's chest. It wasn't much, but it was effective. Trent released him and took a step back, reeling from the flames and dusting ash and char off the front of his robes. When he cupped his hands together, there was nothing that Caleb could do to stop it. A small yellow ball lifted up from between Trent's hands and floated over towards Caleb, mere inches from his chest, as Trent stepped away from him. Nine or ten yards. Caleb had seen this spell plenty of times before and he was trapped there against a literal ticking timebomb. He could bear the brunt of it, though. He steeled himself, reached out, and grasped the ball in his hand. It was pain like he'd only known a handful of times before and nearly drove him to his knees. But he withstood the blast of fire with gritted teeth. The scent of singed cloth and hair filled his nose for a moment, and then he brought his hands around and released the one single spell he had kept tucked away. It wasn't enough. The thread of black light found its home and it still wasn't enough. Trent stumbled back as the necromantic energy rippled across his chest and burned away whole layers of flesh, but he was still standing. And a hint of pride mingled with the rage in his eyes. He held a hand out to Caleb and a thin ray of sickly green energy left his finger and wrapped around Caleb before sinking into his skin. He could feel the life draining out of him, breath pulled from his lungs and his insides drying up. He knew he only had one hit left, no matter what he did, and with a faint smirk, he raised one hand and flicked his fingers through the air, the sound of a bell tolling ominously in the distances heralding his forfeit. He'd walked into this knowing that there was a good chance it would end this way, but he wasn't going out still holding onto his fear. Now he knew what Trent was capable of. He'd seen exactly what he'd tried to pull, and from where, and in what order. And Caleb's mind was a vault. He would pour over every move that Trent made and he would find the cracks. That smirk said it all. It was over. But he was still going to look Trent in the eyes and make him finish it. Something in there seemed to shake the older man and he looked just as surprised by it as Caleb was. If he'd wanted to, if he'd thought it would even matter, Caleb could have easily gotten another spell off in the brief interlude where they stood there staring at one another. But instead, he waited. And he watched the red mote of flame flicker to life in Trent's hand and all went dark. |