Then I'll pray for your safe journey and return. [ even though he's not particularly religious. it's fine. ] In the meantime, how do you feel about—
[ about? whatever he's about to say is lost in another one of those gusts of wind, the fun ones that come out of nowhere and die out just as quick, only to deposit the poor unfortunate souls caught up in its path.
this time the setting is a nice little house, specifically the inside of said house in the kitchen, where dishes lay broken and scattered on the floor and sticky red blood pools around table and chair legs. a prone body lays nearby, facedown, the streaks and stains across their clothes suggesting them as the source of all that blood. but there are still two more bodies beyond, one large and one smaller, grappling and swiping at each other in what seems to be a fight to the death. the smaller figure isn't doing particularly well, deep cuts and bruises scattered all over his frame and his breath coming in short rapid pants. but there's endless rage and betrayal and hurt in those light blue eyes and - more importantly - a rather sharp knife in his hands, that plunges straight into the chest of the taller figure.
it's a killing blow but not entirely successful; the man manages to land his own hit as he stumbles and goes down, sending the boy toppling over, head hitting one of the nearby countertops. now all three bodies are on the ground, blood pooling from all of them, with only the sound of shallow agonized breathing and a few muttered last words from the man with a knife in his chest.
"...should've found....and killed you when....you left...."
and then it's all over and they're back at the corn and peas cafe. yippee! ]
[Don't just salute and then say you will pray, but you aren't religious. Hello!!!
What is this memory slamming him in the face? He is left pretty shocked, and it takes a moment for him to release the breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. WELL OKAY!!!!!
He glances up, somewhat apologetic for seeing something so personal and terrible despite having no control over it.]
[ looks at the mingle. looks back at this thread. congrats on becoming a worm, essek.
but that is still far into the future and right now they have depressing memshares to discuss, though that doesn't seem to stop the small smile that forms on wriothesley's face. ]
Like you said, it's not like we have any control over these things. Besides, it happened a long time ago.
[A shoulder touch... He's special. And it's fine, he actually believes Wriothesley, of all people. For some reason, Wriothesley carries himself in that way.]
I understand. [A wry snort.] Despite being named "War" in the village and... starting one, I am not one to like them at all.
The four of us decided on names corresponding to what was known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse from a book called the Holy Bible. War, Famine, Death, Pestilence.
[The fact none of the four of them knew shit about Christianity.]
It was mostly a joke, though I do suppose the name for me was as fitting as the name for the others, too.
Never heard of it [ what the hell is a christianity ] though it seems a rather bleak tale to draw from. But that seems to suit the nature of the place you were in, from what I've heard.
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no subject
Then I'll pray for your safe journey and return. [ even though he's not particularly religious. it's fine. ] In the meantime, how do you feel about—
[ about? whatever he's about to say is lost in another one of those gusts of wind, the fun ones that come out of nowhere and die out just as quick, only to deposit the poor unfortunate souls caught up in its path.
this time the setting is a nice little house, specifically the inside of said house in the kitchen, where dishes lay broken and scattered on the floor and sticky red blood pools around table and chair legs. a prone body lays nearby, facedown, the streaks and stains across their clothes suggesting them as the source of all that blood. but there are still two more bodies beyond, one large and one smaller, grappling and swiping at each other in what seems to be a fight to the death. the smaller figure isn't doing particularly well, deep cuts and bruises scattered all over his frame and his breath coming in short rapid pants. but there's endless rage and betrayal and hurt in those light blue eyes and - more importantly - a rather sharp knife in his hands, that plunges straight into the chest of the taller figure.
it's a killing blow but not entirely successful; the man manages to land his own hit as he stumbles and goes down, sending the boy toppling over, head hitting one of the nearby countertops. now all three bodies are on the ground, blood pooling from all of them, with only the sound of shallow agonized breathing and a few muttered last words from the man with a knife in his chest.
"...should've found....and killed you when....you left...."
and then it's all over and they're back at the corn and peas cafe. yippee! ]
no subject
What is this memory slamming him in the face? He is left pretty shocked, and it takes a moment for him to release the breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. WELL OKAY!!!!!
He glances up, somewhat apologetic for seeing something so personal and terrible despite having no control over it.]
I'm sorry...
no subject
but that is still far into the future and right now they have depressing memshares to discuss, though that doesn't seem to stop the small smile that forms on wriothesley's face. ]
Like you said, it's not like we have any control over these things. Besides, it happened a long time ago.
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Happening long ago or just recently sometimes doesn't change how things make you feel.
[He is peering at Wriothesley, but his expression isn't hard.]
Is this why...? The word you had.
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[ he punctuates his words with a hand on essek's shoulder. believe him!! ]
But I appreciate your concern. And yes it was, though despite what you might have just seen, I'm not actually a huge proponent of murder.
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I understand. [A wry snort.] Despite being named "War" in the village and... starting one, I am not one to like them at all.
no subject
Why were you given the moniker "War" anyway? Was there some sort of correlation or expectation?
no subject
The four of us decided on names corresponding to what was known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse from a book called the Holy Bible. War, Famine, Death, Pestilence.
[The fact none of the four of them knew shit about Christianity.]
It was mostly a joke, though I do suppose the name for me was as fitting as the name for the others, too.
no subject
Never heard of it [ what the hell is a christianity ] though it seems a rather bleak tale to draw from. But that seems to suit the nature of the place you were in, from what I've heard.