EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

[abraxasmods]

THE EXECUTION

As if performing a vicious mockery for what should be a somber day, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The rays of sun catch the iron brackets that hold up the gallows that have been erected overnight for the occasion, the gentle breeze causing the noose to swing ominously. Public executions do not happen frequently in Thorne, so a crowd gathers in strained anticipation of the grim sentence.

The welcome guests, who have up until this point been free to come and go within the confines of the castle, have been mandated to view the execution. It is meant to serve both as an example of Thorne’s power as well as a lesson to those who might think to try the same. The courtyard, which was buzzing with quiet murmurs, turns silent as Ambrose strides up the wooden steps of the gallows, flanked by two guards and a haggard-looking Jonathan Sims, arms bound behind him. As the guards march their charge to the trapdoor that will serve as executioner and position the noose around his neck, Ambrose turns to address the crowd that has gathered- willfully or not.

“Citizens of Thorne, our esteemed welcomed guests, it is with disappointment and a heavy heart that we’ve gathered to see to the execution of one of the very guests we sought aid from in our time of need. In a selfish and distrustful act, I was attacked, an action I cannot abide.”

He turns halfway toward his charge. “Jonathan Sims, you are charged with assault and intention of lethal harm. The punishment is to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

Ambrose raises his arm to signal the executioner to pull the lever to release the trapdoor beneath Jon’s feet, steely expression locked on the prisoner’s face one last time.

MEANWHILE

Several miles away, atop a hill in the forest, two figures meet between portals. Oliver, tall and lithe, steps out to stand next to a petite waif of a woman who looks at him with a familiar smile. Her voice is lilting like a songbird’s when she speaks up, turning her gaze back over the city.

“Find out anything good?”

He hums softly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Two dozen prisoners, give or take. The one I met was very grateful for our assistance.”

“That’s good. Perhaps her gratitude will endear our cause to them.”

With a nod, he takes a deep breath and then sighs. “It’s time, Elizabeth,” he says, lifting one hand to open a new portal.

She nods and raises her arms above her head, eyes closing in concentration. Her arms begin to glow green while the grass around her begins to ripple in rings. The very ground seems to surge with power that radiates outward from her, and it isn’t long before the castle and the town are engulfed in a heavy air of intense magic. It courses from her in shockwaves.

Satisfied, Oliver steps through the portal.



In the wake of the magic flood, the walls of the dungeons seem to shudder for a long moment, and the doors suddenly clink open. No guards come rushing in to shut them, and in fact, all ambient noise in the dungeons seems to stop as the whole of the people of Thorne freeze in place. The hall becomes lit by daylight as a portal opens at the end of it, showing them the crowd of welcomed guests and Jon alone on the platform.

In the portal, alone stands Oliver, hand offered to the prisoners in welcome. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though this seems to be by nature rather than intention.

“Please come with me.”

CHOICES

Everything is happening quickly.

Once through the portal to the execution yard there's a moment of chaos and confusion at the sudden arrivals and then it stops. Everything and everyone has stopped, save for the guests, the prisoners, and the two mages who have come to their aid. Guards freeze in place. The attended mages are still as statues. Banners lifted by the wind remain where they are and even the noose hanging from the gallows stills.

"Time for them is halted." Oliver addresses the assembled, his voice projected to be heard but his tone calm. "It will remain so for one hour, no more. An hour is all you have to make your choices. Remain here in Thorne, or take a portal to either Solvunn or the Free Cities. The portals cannot be traced by the Thorean authorities, so no need to fear them giving chase.”

Elizabeth emerges from a portal behind him, which closes as she enters the yard. They both raise an arm and two white circles spread through the air, showing new towns in the distance on the other side. There is an ethereal glow around them.

“The Free Cities are martially powerful and seek to destroy the Singularity,” Oliver narrates, gesturing at one of the portals. “Solvunn is reclusive and claims neutrality, both in politics and in regard to the Singularity. I advise that you think hard about your choice. Travel between cities is not exactly easy."

He turns back to the crowd with an almost apologetic smile. “I'm sorry you don't have more time to make this decision. We’ll meet again.”

Opening a third portal with the wave of her arm, Elizabeth, who has not spoken a word, gives the group a wink and leaves with Oliver. Their portal closes behind them, leaving everyone to begin making moves.

Now is the time to make serious choices. Two portals stand in the courtyard, one courtesy of Oliver and one of Elizabeth. The Free Cities and Thorne are enemies, Solvunn watching both to see where the cards end up falling. None trust one another, none work with one another beyond trade through middle-men in Solvunn. The clock is ticking.

Someone should probably get Jon out of that noose.

Comments

[antichristsplusone]

I. Out of the Pan

It's not like any of the mornings here are eventful. Martin tends to wake up early to the sound of the guards changing, old and well-versed paranoia regaining its hold on him these past few weeks. So when something different happens, he's on high alert.

He rolls out of his bunk quickly: his movements are stiff and his energy lacking, but he clings to the bars to try and watch what the guards are doing, and he has a bad feeling--

...that's Jon. Jon being dragged out of the cell by guards, and bound, and marched cruelly away, and Martin stands on his toes despite himself to try and yell after them. "E-excuse me! Where are you taking him-- hey?"

2. And into the fire

Well, he's going to spend the next however long in a blind bloody panic. It doesn't particularly show on his face, at least, just in the way he sitting very still, not really looking at anyone, idly scratching light holes in his sleeves and deepening rivets in the skin around his elbows from his arms being folded.

When the doors suddenly open, and the man appears in the portal, Martin's almost ashamed of how quickly he gets up and throws the cell door open to follow him through. Even if he falters when he steps through, actually realising what he's seeing - the sight of Jon on the gallows, guards and Ambrose frozen around him while everyone else is moving in a panic; it's someone shoving past him that knocks the sense back into him when he stumbles, and then he actually looks around properly, trying to get his bearings.

"Oh God..."

2

[extremethirst]

"Martin!"

Someone is at least happy to see him, and not at all distressed by the current events unfolding around him. The elf trots up to him with a wide, disgustingly pleasant smile.

"You're okay." Whether he's expressing relief or reassurance, it's difficult to say. But he pauses to look the man over carefully. "Well, you can't go to a new city dressed like that, can you?" Because that's what should be concerned about over the frozen people and his boss being rescued from his noosey-fate.

"Consider it a consolation prize since I wasn't able to uphold my end of the deal with you." His tone continues to be a little too casual, but he starts to look through the pile of clothes that he has in his arms to find something suitable for Martin.

[antichristsplusone]

He's gotten a chance to catch up with Jon, in all the chaos, but that doesn't leave him any more prepared for Nero to swagger up to him with an armful of clothes like he's just casually shoplifted the lot of it with no care.

"I-I, uh. I suppose...not." The question is too completely random, in his still-panicked state to register fully, so it's not until there's a pair of silkish tunics in brown and blue being thrown at him that startles him out of his reverie. "Oh--! Um. Th-thanks?"

His eyes flick between the pile of clothes and Nero's face. "Those aren't. All for me-- are they?"

[extremethirst]

"No problem."

He's just relieved that his joke went off without a hitch. It would have been really depressing if he had to do the slut's shame walk down to the dungeon and hand the clothes out after Jon was killed.

"Huh? No?" Nero thinks about explaining his whole joke and set up, but decides against it as he thinks of something much better. His smile turns absolutely ghoulish. "Unless you'd like to wear a cute little dress for me sometime?"

[antichristsplusone]

Despite absolutely everything else going on, Martin's brain blanks on being asked that, and he clutches his new clothes to his chest as his face turns bright red. "N-no thanks, I-I'm, I'm fine with just this for now! Really!!"

He doesn't like the very real impression that if Nero did want to see him in a dress then Martin wouldn't get a whole lot of choice in the matter.

[extremethirst]

"Aw, okay." He still has a bit of clothes in his arms, but it isn't all that heavy as much as it's just cumbersome. Nero lets out a small sigh as he really wants to just toss the pile on the ground, but he still has a few more items to give out. Anything for a bit.

"So, you must be feeling pretty happy! Jon's alive and well." Nero jerks his head in the general direction of the man that was to be executed. "Sorry that I wasn't able to tell you about the execution date. I had everything planned, but shit got in the way."

His brilliant joke!!

"Still, I hope this means that Jon's gonna give you a good reach around for all the sacrificing you were willing to do for him."

[antichristsplusone]

The red doesn't go away easily from his pale face, but Martin still has it in him to stare at the clothes again, then give Nero an affronted look.

"I'm sorry, but-- was your plan here to- to dress me up like a bloody show pony, then come trot me out to watch my boss-- my ex-boss's hanging on the stocks as your way of telling me about it?!"

Let's not address that whole reach-around nonsense, God.

[extremethirst]

"Not just you, but everyone else." He jerks his head back to look toward the other prisoners. "I thought it would be nice to have everyone dressed nicely while he hung around."

Nero doesn't see any reason why he should hide his intentions from Martin, even if it would mean making their relationship sour. Little white lies for fun is one thing, but outright lying to avoid trouble is irritating to him.

"You see, I talked about rescuing him. However, he was against the idea and said you would be, too. 'Course, that's because I said there was a good chance that the other prisoners would be killed in the escape." His eyes close before he takes a step forward. He jerks himself up close so that he is right next to Martin's face, probably not too intimidating with his arms still filled with clothes, but whatever.

"Your little Jon was willing to die in order to keep everyone else safe. So, why shouldn't those that were protected by him look their best for his sacrifice?"

[antichristsplusone]

There's a cold pit in Martin's stomach when Nero confirms it, so casually, and his grip on his clothes is white-knuckled when Nero leans in to his face, and he recoils immediately, just a little. Just so he doesn't feel the warmth of the elf's face so close to his.

He already knew Nero was insane: all this really clarifies is that he doesn't care whether Martin thinks it.

"Jon... he. H-he wouldn't." But his voice is a bit thin, wavering. "He wouldn't want to die, that's not..." Jon was paranoid and tired, not suicidal. "And he doesn't-- nobody deserves that."

[extremethirst]

"Not wanting to die and not wanting other people to be sacrificed... I believe that your Jon views those are two different things, Martin."

Nero decides to not add that he thinks that the way that they were going to kill Jon was a real lame way to go, anyway. He somehow thinks that his dear human friend would not think that was any sort of consolation.

"But you're really upset about this, huh?" The elf looks his face over carefully. "I guess the two of you were pretty close back home." He doesn't sound all that sympathetic but more like he's piecing things together for himself. After all, he's been thinking Martin's been so hard up on Jon because the man just came from his world.

"But let's set that aside... you're willing to let people die just so Jon could live?"

[antichristsplusone]

The redness comes back in full force and a half, and Martin sputters inelegantly. "What? N-no, god no-- he's my boss, it's-- there's nothing there, just--no."

Let's just power on before Nero can make anything of that absolute hash of a defense. "And I- I didn't say that, I just-- everything's always on Jon, it'd-- it would just be nice if someone else had to- I don't know, take the lead on those sorts of things?"

[extremethirst]

Nero opens his mouth to make a comment about how he didn't realize that Martin had an authority kink, but it gets sidelined in favor of what else is said. His ears lift a little in interest at what is said and what isn't said.

Jon said you would be against someone else dying, but you're a lot more cold-hearted than him, huh? He smiles in a warm, overly friendly way. The psychotic twisted smile fades to something legitimately pleasant. But given the topic of conversation, it most likely offers little relief or comfort.

"I think that he likes it that way. It means no one else has to suffer, but really, he underestimates the suffering people experience when someone else is acting as a martyr for them." Case in point, Martin. "It puts a real burden of guilt on those with any conscience to speak of, you know."

Does Nero know? Eh.

"Things worked out this time because of some bit of workings in the background, but you can't expect them to always work out this way, Martin." He smiles. "So, you might have to be the one to take the lead on things since you got a bit more self-preservation than your lovebug."

[antichristsplusone]

Nero, that genuinely charming smile doesn't make the results of your teasing leave Martin's face immediately. Mostly he just looks indignant on top of mortified; not exactly a winning facial expression.

"I mean ideally there shouldn't be anyone suffering. Especially not for some pomped up magical despot who's upset that someone made him share information that he should've been sharing anyway!"

His voice gets a little tense there, a bit high-pitched in his indignation. "W-we-- none of us here have done anything, I'm fairly sure I'm only in jail because I have literally anything to do with Jon, that's entirely unreasonable! He didn't deserve to get nearly killed because he offended some stuffy old wizard and he damn well doesn't deserve to be made a martyr for it, especially since I imagine we're all going to suffer whether or not he's alive to see it!"

[falcony]

"Martin!"

It's a few minutes later that Sam comes running up to the Portal - he's not sure what kept Martin inside, but Sam doesn't have a lot of time for questions, either. He reaches through to help whoever steps through next, but Sam's eyes are on Martin, still in the hallway. The chaos has really picked up, by this point, but Sam is doing what he can to direct the people making it out, pushing them to the portals.

"Martin, time to go!"

[antichristsplusone]

"What?" Somehow he wasn't expecting someone to be actively looking for him, not after they took Jon away, so that someone knows his name is a little jarring. Not that it stops him from following orders: he can ask more about that later. "Oh-- r-right!"

He's pretty quick on his feet, all things considered, but life-or-death situations do tend to put some fire under your rear, and he's following Sam out to the main area quickly. "Wh-where are we going?"

[falcony]

Sam is - well. He's in job mode. His eyes darting back and forth between the moving bodies. He has a bad feeling something is about to happen, he's just not sure when, or how. It keeps him on his toes, and his tone a bit more urgent than normal but no less on top of things.

He does well under pressure, after all. This is all simply part of the job.

"Portals. Not sure if you saw- but everyone's got a way out, now." Sam gets a hand on Martin's shoulder and is going to turn him so that he can get a good look. "Jon's fine. He's waiting for you between the two. You good to run?"

[antichristsplusone]

"Oh my god...!" The relief from hearing that is nearly dizzying, but he manages to take a breath and straighten up, and there's a new steel in his eyes. "Yes-- no- I mean, I'm fine-" He gives Sam a grateful look, despite the circumstances. "Thank you."

And he won't wait for the other man to follow him: he looks busy enough that Martin's happy to just run ahead towards where he said Jon is, and it doesn't take much to spot him.

"Jon!"

[falcony]

Sam had been expecting the reaction, at least in part, so when Martin looks a bit dizzy from relief, Sam just nods his head. He motions off towards the portals, to where Coraline and Jon should be waiting. It's the grateful look that actually pulls a smile from Sam, though.

"Hey, I'm just glad I could help." And it's adrenaline, at this point - of getting Jon off the gallows, of the freedom offered them all. Sam knows there's more for him to do, yet, but one thing at a time. "Also, Martin-" He catches Martin right before he leaves, pointing to the portals. "You need to get out of here. Ambrose isn't going to be happy, and will be looking for someone to blame. Okay? Get through a portal." And when Sam is confident enough Martin is listening, he's going to turn back to his work - leaving Martin and Jon to work out the rest.

[the_archive]

"Martin!"

Jon is on his toes to see through the crowd when he spots him, and lunges forward to meet him. "Martin, I'm sorry!"

[antichristsplusone]

There's a teen girl hot on Jon's heels, looking some kind of annoyed, but Martin ignores her completely in favour of meeting Jon halfway and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Oh thank God you're okay." It's a good proper Martin hug, tight arms pulling Jon into his soft chest - not as soft as he was, mind you, the weeks of jail and stress haven't been all too kind.

[the_archive]

He buries a hand in Martin's hair, holding him just as tight. He's not not aware of the clock still ticking, but he just wants to stay here right now, face pressed into the side of Martin's neck, his pulse against his cheek.

[antichristsplusone]

The relief is overwhelming, and he's almost content to just stay here, clutching Jon and making sure nothing happens to him again, but-

No, as that instant hit starts wearing off, he's still mad about it. And ever since he's gotten here his temper has been frayed.

"It's just--" He pulls back, enough that he can actually look down and see Jon's face. His own is some blushing mix of upset and angry. "W-with all respect, and all that- what the hell, Jon? Why didn't you tell me?!"

[the_archive]

Jon keeps a hand tight in Martin's shirt, looking up at him. "I know. I'm sorry, Martin, I should have told you. I didn't know how."

He breaths out, swallowing. "I kept expecting someone else to break the news and then I'd only have to explain, not- not see you learn it."

[antichristsplusone]

Martin can't even say he's surprised that Jon didn't tell him. He's just... frustrated.

"Jon-- you not telling us things is literally how Tim and I nearly got killed by Michael, it's- it's why you were down there being chased by Not-Sasha, it's--" His expression tightens, and he looks down at Jon's hands on his shirt and he lifts his own hand to grip one. "You can't keep doing that. I don't know what I'd do if..."

Ah, now his face had gone a very dark red, and he doesn't quite meet Jon's eyes. The proper two. "You nearly got hanged because of it. Don't you think that's a bit far, even for you?"

[the_archive]

Jon almost touches Martin's cheek, wanting that eye contact back, but stops himself.

Now that's not entirely fair, he'd have wound up on that gallows whether he told Martin or not.

"I- Martin, I know. But I didn't think there was anything you could have done, or anyone could have done." He touches his neck without realizing, and twitches his hand away from it. "Other people knew. I wasn't... I wasn't keeping it a secret."