abraxaslogs | EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

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EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

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.

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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?"

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."

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!"

"That's impossible." He shakes his head at the idea that no one will be suffering. "Isn't it better to say that only those we want to suffer will be suffering?"

Juggling the pile of clothes in his arms, he is able to pull one hand free so that he can gesture toward the frozen Ambrose -- or at least in his direction.

"Why should he have shared any information with us? You believe that we deserve to know why we were summoned? Do you think that life is really always that fair that we get all the answers that we hope to get?" The elf laughs; it is probably another reason why he was summoned. He accepts the reality of his situation much too easily and rarely attempts to rock the boat unless someone else wants to rock it first.

"Is it unreasonable? Ambrose said that Jon attacked him. Jon used his abilities on him and I dunno about you, but that can't be a pleasant experience to go under." Nero enjoys playing Devil's Advocate but only because he doesn't like it sounding like people are blameless. His expression turns serious. "Jon could have decided to do nothing. What he did is something he decided was worth his life."

He brings his hand back to hold the pile of clothes. "Anyway, what you're saying is right. People are gonna suffer even if he's alive to see it or not. What he did... it didn't alleviate anyone's pain and it certainly didn't ensure others won't die. But I'm sure he's content with his choices even if he couldn't see that far, so... that's about that, wouldn't you say?"

Martin certainly doesn't appreciate all of his comments being refuted so flatly - despite everything, he'd half thought that Nero would be on his side for this, given how staunchly chaotic the elf seemed to be. The actual use of logic was a bit disarming, and that spitfire energy is snuffed out as he deflates a little.

"I'm fully aware that life isn't fair, o-or reasonable," he says, quiet and a little defensive. "But that doesn't mean I can't believe it should be. Or-- or hope that people use their better judgement to make it so, instead of us all just... suffering constantly, in the same boat." It stands without saying he doesn't agree with Jon's choices, but that's between them, not Nero.

He looks back at the elf's arms overflowing with clothes, and says, in a kind of pointed demonstration, "So, do you want a hand with those?"

"Well, in order to change that, you're going to have to be the change that you wanna see. No one's gonna change the world for you."

Nero looks disgustingly proud of himself as he finishes speaking. He seems like he wants that to be on some poster or plastered everywhere. His chin lifts as he smiles even wider. The world is going to be destroyed by his hands one way or another, and he looks forward to watching it all burn. That's the change that he's working towards, anyway.

"Mm, aren't you nice? Yes, yes, I'd love to have some help with these." He holds his arms out for Martin to take some of the clothes. "You're such a sweetheart."

Truth be told Martin could probably carry the entire pile with ease - he's not a bodybuilder by any stretch, but he has a little muscle - but he only takes about half, draping them across one arm and shoulder easily.

"I, uh. I assume you're not staying in Thorne, right?" He's seen a few people leave already, and he certainly plans to. Which makes him regret a little offering to help Nero with the whole clothes situation.

"You assume right, my good sir."

Nero isn't sure what is going to happen when everyone gets unfrozen, but he's of the mind that it would be a very good idea to get as far away from Thorne as possible. He wasn't all that taken with Ambrose, anyway; even if the man seemed to appreciate his naked body and other Nero.

"Though, not sure where I should actually be headed out." He really should have been getting more information on that front. "I was a little preoccupied with figuring out how to bust some people out of a dungeon."

'Course, by "figuring it out," it was more wondering how pissed the people would be if a lot of innocents died and if their anger outweighed how funny he thought that would be.

Still, he considers that to be a lot of consideration put into something!

British hospitality and his general nervous rambling have words coming out of his mouth in short order.

"W-well, uh, I'll be heading towards Solvunn, if-- uh. If you'd happen to like some... company...?"

His words falter at the end as his brain catches on to what he just said.

Nero had paused to look toward the portals, musing over which one that he should enter. He does notice Estinien apparently trying to kill Ambrose with little success. I just don't get it. I guess if a man throws a party over your naked body once you kind of feel obligated to keep him safe.

His head lifts up as soon as he hears the question, however. He turns his gaze back toward Martin, with honest surprise on his expression. Huh? Honestly, he's shocked that the human's willing to travel with him after their little conversation. Here he thought he'd have to watch all destruction and death that the man will surely bring from the shadows like some peeping tom with dick in hand.

Life's full of surprises.

"I'd love to have some company! Guess, we're becoming real buddies, huh?" He leans in abruptly to give Martin a quick peck on the forehead. Hey, it's presumably better than whispering horrible Nero-isms at him, yeah?

He's already deeply regretting this choice immediately, and that feeling is not improved by Nero suddenly darting in to plant a kiss on his forehead, and Martin jerks back in red-faced surprise, clutching the clothes tighter like an affronted ma'am.

Well, at least he knows Nero won't kill him. Not while Martin owes him something, and not while he's funnier left alive.

...the thought isn't as comforting as he hoped it would be.

""I-I-- uh, I...suppose so?" He swallows dryly to push down the lump threatening to make his voice crack. "Did you, um, h-have anyone else you were wanting to deliver these to, or was it just... first come, first served?"

"Bit first come, first served." He is about ready to just throw the clothes on the ground since it seems most people are just leaving and so he feels like a bit of an ass still toting around a pile of clothes.

Again, anything for a bit.

"There is a red silk dress I have to give to a pretty, though." Nero chimes. "Perhaps you saw her? Eponine? She's a real lovely one." The elf sings her praises; he likes how she is and likes how ready she was to blame someone else for a murder she wants to commit. So long as she took her dues for having plunged the knife in, he can only laugh at what she does to protect her "good" name.

"I don't think she'll come with me, though. I guess I'm just not lovable enough for anyone but you, Martin."

Congratulations on unlocking a new level of red to Martin's face, Nero, it now extends down his neck and across his ears.

"I, ahh, I d-don't think I know anyone by that name, specifically, um." He's seen a few women in the dungeon but about the only name he's gotten is Ciri's. "D'you want me to, uh...wait for you? T-to find her, I mean, before we leave...?"

He hates that this is a 'we' now, why is he like this? Stupid...

His shoulders violently shake as he laughs at how red Martin's face becomes.

"Careful, you'll end up passing out if you aren't careful." Nero wonders if he lavishes enough compliments if his "friend" is going to forget what kind of person that he is. The elf certainly hopes not, but also he kind of hopes that he does; it means that he gets to see the look of horror on Martin's face anew when the human sees what he can really do.

"She's a real cutie. But not sure if you'll be able to meet her, not with how all of us are splitting up, still... I can tell you she's a sweetie and she's someone who keeps her word." The elf continues on with his singing of praises. There is a sing-song way that he talks about Eponine, like he's retelling a favorite nursery rhyme. It's the sound of someone that is exceptionally fond of an idea rather than a person.

"Would you?" His ears give a little wiggle. "I'd appreciate it! Would you also hold my hand when we go through?" He pulls one of his hands free from the half-pile of clothes he hands; he spreads his fingers and waves it slowly in the air.

Edited 2021-08-31 06:14 (UTC)

His eyes lock on the hand, tracking it despite himself, and he can't help taking half a step back as an indignant scowl crosses his burning features.

"L-look-- just because I'm trying to be nice doesn't mean you can just-- just make fun of me however you like." He straightens up a bit, clutching the no-doubt ill-gotten clothes a little closer to his chest. "A-and I'm perfectly willing to leave without you if you're going to."

Nero stops waving his hand back and forth. His expression shifts to one that looks mildly apologetic as he lets his arm drop back down.

"Sorry, sorry. I went a little overboard." He supposes that he should be pleased he's just being scolded rather than choked out, like One used to do when he would overstep his boundaries through his teasing and verbal jabs. 'Course, he isn't quite sure Martin has it in him yet to try to strangle him when he goes too far.

"I'll stop making fun of you so much. I just like you and so I got a little ahead of myself, is all." A beat. "Forgive me?"

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EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

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