mirageflicker (mirageflicker) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-11-30 00:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | closed, garrett horsefeather, observable, uchiha shisui |
[Backdated Log] Ichor
Who: Garrett Horsefeather and Shisui
When: November 6th
Where: Grounds
What: Shisui gets attacked by something more god than man. Garrett finds the aftermath.
Warnings: EVERYTHING. Okay, in detail; mental illness, gore, self injury, much blood, panic, slow character death, descriptive details, a tongue being spat out. Violence.
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: Yes
In retrospect, reasons always mattered to the instigator, but never changed the outcome.
Shisui didn’t know why the man had been looking for him in the forest, or maybe he hadn’t. He could have been wanting to take aggression out on the nearest thing. All Shisui knew was that he was curled up in a tree, lighting cigarettes on fire and watching them burn to the butt, and then he’d been shaken from his perch.
Blow after blow came. This was one of the best fighters, one Shisui had never wanted to fight in the ring, much less out of it. He’d seen how each blow muddied minds (through magic, not the sheer force), how fast he moved as if effortless. He didn’t speak, but Shisui had seen him scream, and people fell to their knees. When people brought him to fights, it was dirty. He had only so many tricks, but it seemed hard to attack him, either. If Shisui was quicksilver, this man was air. People weren’t given a chance to put him under an illusion.
But the man - Mer-something, Shisui couldn’t remember now - wasn’t fighting to kill. He was fighting to toy, and Shisui realized that he took longer to move. Mer wanted Shisui to fight back, or maybe he was being underestimated.
Within three hits, Shisui flickered. Up to a tree, and he breathed fire. Mer was engulfed, but he looked untouched when he slunk from a shadow behind him to growl. Magic growl into his ear, but he couldn’t fight the illusion.
Shisui fell from the tree, just fell, and twisted up. His eyes had slithered into the mangekyou sharingan from the moment he’d been struck.
Silver-blue eye met red. there was a shock of hair, striped with black hair and blond-brown. That was all Shisui registered as he screamed,
Stop.
Thud, went his body. Thud went Mer’s body.
Shisui couldn’t breathe, but he remembered the trick of shrugging his shoulders. Vaguely, because he was waiting for the next hit in shudder-stop-blurred moments.
It didn’t come. He stood.
He looked, and Mer was there. Stopped. Shisui could feel his mind waking him up, felt a rage, felt a job to do and a someone to hurt and a satisfaction to be had but he would play it out, make the kid thing he was dead except he wasn’t. Shisui had stopped him.
Stop breathing, Shisui ordered, and Mer did. Dragged it on for half a minute, and then told Mer to sit up and breathe.
Shisui kicked him in the jaw.
Itachi was there in his thoughts, plans to hurt Itachi, test things through the vulnerable point. He wasn’t supposed to die, he was supposed to hang. Make it obvious, Mer, we need to let this kid know the deal.
Shisui took his kunai out, let Mer’s rage become his own (could he have stopped it?) and attacked him. As he stabbed him - arms, legs, cut the tendons and make him bleed yellow - Mer screamed, and Shisui let him as he drew the kunai into his cheek - jaw, actually - and dragged it out. Mer obeyed the compulsion to not move, but he wanted to fight back, knew things were wrong, knew he was close to death because Shisui was thinking it, and he didn’t what thoughts came and left between them.
Itachi, Itachi.
Shisui broke the bones above his knuckles, making the fingers bend again. He made the man shut up and he kept going.
Eventually (minutes hours days later?) Shisui got fed up, and he stabbed him in the neck. Nothing neat, and he’d stuck his kunai in Mer’s ribs and tried to rip him open sideways before he died. Shisui felt every bit, and didn’t care.
Until Mer died. He cared then, because Shisui’s mind died with him.
Again, the rattle, choking to death, couldn’t move function, the target, dead. Dead with ichor - where did the name come from? - everywhere, heart still pumping. Shisui told himself it was because the brain shut down before the heart, but it seemed to go for too long. Some thought of Mer’s whispered that his heart would never stop beating.
Shisui vomited, staggering two feet away, and then laughed himself into retching a second time. Oh gods. There were too many problems with this.
Inhuman!
He attacked me first.
You used it.
I had to.
You used it you used it you used it.
Itachi will hate me.
He just needed one more excuse.
Who cares? I’m a demigod, I don’t need anyone.
No you’re not, you’re Shisui.
I’m too powerful, whoever I am.
Shisui dragged himself from the body and realized that he felt like he was on fire. His wrist was broken but half-healed. The bruise and half-crushed ribs were gone. He laughed again, because this blood would kill and heal him.
Flicker, up the tree.
Shisui promptly panicked, realizing that he would be found. Of course, Itachi would find him and he would hate him because Itachi had told him not, not, not, not... Shisui was whispering it to himself, over and over, and as his tongue hit the roof of his mouth, close to his teeth...
Shisui tried to bite it off. He gagged again, but a steady stream of blood dripped from his mouth into the golden-yellow blood below. Rather than turning orange, the mixture was boiling and turning dark, smoking and leaving an acrid stench in the air.
“Why did I do that, he’s dead and I’m dead and I need him to stay dead!” This was directed at the body, which did not respond. Shisui forced himself to climb higher, and started shuddering. Speaking hurt. His mouth kept filling with blood, which was swallowed or spat into the hell below.
Garrett smelled the blood before he saw the body. At first, as he came upon the gruesome sight, he thought no one else was around. The man was dead, so Garrett moved slowly out of the woods, head moving from side to side as he looked for whatever had done this. Something vicious, it looked like. There were knife marks on the face, which meant it had been someone one.
The hair on the back of Garrett’s neck tingled and he looked up just as he say fresh blood fall into the yellow puddles below.
There, in the tree, a small form huddled.
Garrett point a hand on his sword, then let it fall loose at his side. He doubted that would save him here. “Heyla, little one.”
Shisui hadn’t noticed the man until the words came, and then only distantly. He only reacted about seven seconds after the words by cringing further into the tree, clamping his tongue down further into the wound, and spat. Tongues bled a lot. He was going to dissolve soon, for mortals couldn’t stand it. “Can’t stand it,” The words came out unbidden, slurred and marred by his bloody tongue, and blood swelled to the corners of his mouth.
Garrett stepped closer and to the left, trying to get a better look at whatever had taken refuge in the tree. Since he wasn’t being attacked, he was going to assume that the one in the tree might have been in the right with this fight...though the body looked thoroughly tortured.
“What did you say?” Garrett asked, unable to make out the smear of sounds that floated down from the boy.
A swallow, then he gagged. Blood and mucus and acid came up. Shisui couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know what he’d said. As he stared down at the man, eyes spinning, his spine crawled.
“Don’t you try, you can’t because that didn’t and you can’t because he can, can, can, can... can’t. You can’t. Won’t, damn you.” His head hurt. His whole head, different from the fire and his tongue. Throb, throb.
Garrett looked up at the red-eyed boy and took a deep breath. It stood to reason that someone, or many people, in this place would have a touch of madness in them, but had hadn’t expected to see it in one so young or so soon. He’d been avoiding most of the Others while he got his footing firmed out.
“Would you like to come down?” Garrett asked, thinking the boy could fall and hurt himself if he stayed in the tree. He didn’t know how injured the boy was, but he was bleeding from the mouth.
The only response that received was a thrown kunai. Shisui’s aim was off, and he felt weak enough that it more fell than was thrown. Then he leaned forward and let his mouth stay open. Blood spattered, and a rapid drip started.
Garrett batted the projectile away, stepping back in case he should be attacked again. He watched the boy begin to drip blood, and wondered if he was witnessing some kind of agonizingly slow death from head trauma.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Garrett grimaced.
Silently, Shisui leaned his shoulder against the trunk and stared at his skin. It was growing tight. “Poison blood. No immunities to that,” It hurt less to talk, now, because the fire in his skin had reached a peak. He thought he should be screaming, but a thought told him that the fire was normal. It had been his whole hundred years of living, because of the god and mortal blood mixing.
“Not him.” But he was. Shisui went quiet, nervous again.
Garrett glanced to the side, then tipped his head. “He’s dead. I think you made sure of that.”
“Heart won’t stop, never stops because my heart and blood are the immortal parts, but they eat away at the organs I’m burning alive, burning,” Shisui gasped out, becoming more incoherent as he suddenly realized that his organs, organs were burning up. Boiling to death. He brought his legs up onto the branch with effort, and gagged into his knees.
“You’re very much out of it, aren’t you?” Garrett walked around the tree and came to a lower branch. He pulled himself up, not as light and nimble as the boy gagging blood, but startling the boy might not be such a good idea anyway.
Shisui couldn’t bring himself to react. His eyesight was going fuzzy, and he felt the mangekyou turn off. The world went indistinct, and then he jumped as he heard the weight shift. “No, you absolutely can not do that, no, no,” The mangekyou twisted on, and he pleaded with choked genjutsu; “Don’t!” Finish it. Hurt me. Tell Itachi. The mangekyou spun into deadness again, and Shisui babbled.
“You can’t tell him because he’ll hate, but oh, I’ve never had but he--” Shisui shuddered, unable to speak for the all-consuming pain. He was drowning in it, drowning...
He promptly started sobbing.
Something caught Garrett. He stopped and started to climb down before he shook off whatever magic the boy had thrown at him. “I won’t tell anyone.” Garrett promised as he pulled himself up. He was halfway there now, and he could see blood flecked on branches.
Hellfire. He’d probably climbed up only to bring down a corpse. The thought hurt, like a punch to the gut, but that was life.
“I didn’t know you could burn and drown together,” Shisui shuddered again, and choked. With a sudden rush of rage, madness, panic, he bit down on his tongue. He spat it out as best he could, then leaned against the trunk, somehow able to taste blood. He had only cut about half off.
But it was enough to keep him from speaking. Clear red blood flowed down. Shisui coughed.
Garrett stared as a lump of flesh hit the branch near him and rolled off to the ground. It wasn’t enough to turn his stomach, but Garrett cursed the devices that had brought them all here and put children through such torture. Finally, Garrett pulled himself up mostly level with the boy.
Shisui didn’t even react as Garrett pulled himself up, just stared. Tried to speak, only made a garbled noise, and spat into his lap. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Garrett, just aware enough to wonder who it was.
Garrett steadied himself on his branch. He knew that look. The glazed look. “It’s a shame they dragged you here to die.” Garrett spoke softly, as he would speak to a frightened child or spooked horse.
He reached out a hand to feel for the boy’s pulse, expecting to find it thin and reedy. A dying pulse.
Lips parted, Shisui couldn’t make himself say something important, couldn’t make his tongue move, because it was gone. He couldn’t offer more than a weak resistance to the touch. His pulse was flying weakly, like a high-pitched flute that was dying out. Somewhere, Shisui knew this was because he had gotten the yellow blood all over him, had taken bad hits, but.
It didn’t matter.
He was still dead.
Shisui bowed his head and coughed, and this time the blood was clotted with impurities. Not from his tongue.
Garrett didn’t bother even attempting to move the boy. He knew the little one was dying--he had the stench of it all over him now. Garrett had been too late from the start, and this hardened his resolve to figure out how to stop the force that dragged them all here to die. Children should not die bloody in trees, coughing out their own tongues.
Garrett touched the blood streaked forehead. “Sleep, little one. We’ll pray for better luck in your next life.” Even if he would be given a new body, it did not excuse the pain and horror of death this one face. It never would.
Shisui couldn’t move, so he just watched Garrett until there was nothing to see anymore.
The corpse fell while it still wasn’t quite a corpse, with Shisui able to distantly hear the world around him.
Garrett shifted as the body fell towards him. The boy wasn’t dead yet, but he had to be seconds from it. Garrett caught him around the middle, finding the boy an oddly light burden. Slowly, Garrett began to descend.
There was nothing to mark Shisui’s soul leaving. His muscles had been lax by the time he’d fallen forward, his heart since stopped beating. There was nothing but a shell of a corpse by the time Garrett set foot on the ground.
Garrett put the boy down a safe distance from the coagulating pool of yellow blood. He set the body on it’s side and crouched down, looking at the slack young face still smeared with blood. Garrett pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and reached out to wipe the blood from the boy’s face. It still clung to the corners and creases of his mouth, but the bloodless face looked like like a horror, more like a tragedy.
Garrett made a hand motion and muttered under his breath an old prayer that was said to do everything from send spirits to the afterlife to protecting you from their wrath. Garrett touched the damp curls, still springy with fake life. “Sleep well, little one.” Garrett murmured before he stood. He whistled for Thunder. They had taken care of numerous bodies before, some of those bodies younger than this child. The weight of death still hung like a grim chain around his neck. He tried to wipe the blood from his hands, but it the tacky substance wouldn’t come off.
Thunder came up warily, eyes wild and nostrils flared. Garret gently touched the horses neck with a sticky hand and then swung on. Blankets to cover the bodies, then he would find someone to tell about the deaths. Garrett cued Thunder into an instant gallop, and the horse gratefully plunged away from the corpses. Garrett’s hands knotted in Thunder’s mane, feeling the very epitome of health and life surging under him, but the smell of death still clung to him.