abraxaslogs | EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"

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?"

"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!"

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.

"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!"

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.

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.

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?!"

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."

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?"

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."

The blush creeps down Martin's neck, and he pulls back, just half a step.

"Look-- w-were you seriously expecting someone else to just tell me?" His tone is reproachful, and out of the corner of his eye he sees the girl raise her eyebrows as she turns to look at Jon. "And that- that's not the point, Jon, the point is that you're not-- after everything you just put us through with the tunnels and Sasha and the entire six months since Prentiss, you-- you're still not telling me things yourself!" His expression is...complicated. Knotted eyebrows and narrowed eyes on a cherry-red face and mouth in a light grimace. "Do you not, what, trust me, still? After all that?"

Edited 2021-09-02 04:09 (UTC)

"No! No, I'm just a coward!"

Jon doesn't let go of him. Isn't certain he ever can again, right now. "Martin, I love you. I trust you, but I love you, and the thought of telling you that you'd just been brought here in time to see me die? How- how could I do that?"

If there was any spare skin left to turn red there sure isn't now, and Martin just. Blinks. Twice.

That... was not the answer he expected, and he suddenly feels very on-the-spot, the argument almost wholly forgotten in favour of those sudden, unexpected ~~undeserved~~ three words.

"...o-oh. Um-- right- right then."

His hand hover awkwardly around his chest for a moment, before he lifts them to bury his face for a moment, rubbing it down and resting them in front with fingers interlocked. "I-- okay."

(He doesn't notice Coraline nudge Jon with an elbow and quietly murmur, "You broke him, Jon.")

Jon didn't mean it as a complete derail, and it's his turn for a share of that redness, taking a small step back. He glances aside at Coraline, more than enough eyes wide with nerves, and looks back.

"I... didn't expect that to be a surprise by now, either," he admits softly. Guiltily.

Martin just sputters gently. "It-- well, i-it's not like you've-- you haven't said anything yet, I d-didn't think you-- that you, um, liked me back. um--"

(If Coraline could just stop giggling at any point that would be grand.)

He takes a deep breath that makes his entire form straighten up, scrunches his face shut for a moment, and his next few words are very hasty. "I love you too but that doesn't just-- absolve you of treating me the way you have been. You can't-- if you, uh-- l-love me, i-if you trust me, you can't not tell me things, now. Even if they're..." He releases the remainder of his fluster in a long, sharp exhale, and he's still red but now there's a little bit of that dungeon's worth of exhaustion leaking through. "Bad. Or. Or painful."

He takes a moment to look at the portals on either side of them. "I don't really think we have the luxury for that, if it's just...us."

Us, from the Institute. No Tim, or Basira or Melanie, just the two of them; and he's glad his face can't get any hotter thinking that.

Jon exhales, a soft huff of... well, of a lot of things. Relief. Concern. Resignation, but not a bad sort.

"I know," he says, voice so painfully earnest right now. "You're right." He looks past Martin a moment, up at the two portals, and back into his face.

It's just them. He has people he knows here, people he trusts, but no one he trusts like Martin.

And they have so little time, right here.

"I can't see what the truth is about the Singularity," he says after a second. Because Martin's right, he can't hide things. Even what he doesn't know. "What needs to happen to it. If Ambrose is right, or one of the others."

His response is immediate, born largely from the need to talk about literally anything else, and there's a wry amusement in his tone. "Well- I think we can leave Ambrose and all that for someone else to figure out, don't you?"

And despite his nervousness, anxiety about his own forwardness, he reaches up to brush Jon's neck - but the nerves do keep it from being anything more than ghosting across Jon's skin. "I, um... I'd rather not see you like that again, if we can help it."

He catches Martin's hands with a short intake of breath - that faint hint of a touch is about all he can handle there, right now. But he keeps hold of his hands, squeezing gently.

"I'm definitely leaving," he agrees. "I do have a little bit of care for my own life." Well, now he does. "I think the Free Cities need a close watch, if they want to destroy the Singularity."

Martin doesn't miss the quiet murmur under the teen's breath of "Gaaaay", nor the smug tone she says it in, but his face can't get any more red anyway.

"Right. Off you go, running headfirst into danger." You're a pretty terrible coward, Jon, don't think Martin hasn't noticed, but he squeezes that scarred hand in return. "I'll be going to Solvunn then, shall I?"

It's... not being sarcastic. And that (he's pleased to see) makes the girl blink as she looks at Jon for a reaction.

Jon's face goes quite still, jaw tightening.

No, he wants to say. No, he doesn't want to let go.

But he slowly nods, making himself breathe in. "If you're willing. I need to know the truth of what they know, what they think about it."

The look of muted shock on Jon's face gets most of the ruddiness out of Martin's as he pales at that reaction, and steps in again, gripping Jon's hands close against his chest. "Jon, it's alright, th-this isn't because I'm still upset at you, it's just--" He glances away for a moment, but when he looks back it's finally into Jon's eyes again. "Look, you trust me, that... I know how hard that's been for you to do lately. But, I'm not sure how much useful information we can learn if we're both tied up in the same spot, we'll be able to get any sort of relevant information twice as fast, a-and--"

He stands up a little straighter, trying to offer a smile. "Well, at least we know I'm good in a worst-case survival scenario now, thanks to- to Prentiss. So long as there's not any canned peaches," he adds with a weak chuckle.

Jon shakes his head a little, jaw set.

"No, I know. It's the logical choice, I just don't like it. But you'll know what to look for, and you know how to take care of yourself. And I... have people to take care of me," he adds, with a slightly rueful tilt of his head towards Coraline. "I don't think you've met Coraline, but she's going to throw me overhand through that portal in another few minutes."

"That's not an empty threat," she says with a cold blitheness, folding her arms as she stares fixedly now at Martin; all pretence of warmth from before is gone. "We were gonna leave without you in like ten minutes."

Martin just blinks, staring at the girl-- Coraline, apparently. "Um. Well, th-thank you for... not. Doing that. So I can actually see Jon."

He looks back at Jon and his expression softens again, brushing his thumbs across the backs of Jon's hands. "It'll be alright, Jon. A-and we can still meet up in Horizon, right? So it won't be that bad."

"And if she doesn't, there's Kiryu," he adds, with a gesture towards the very, very large man a little farther away keeping watch.

Jon sways slightly into the little space between them, both their clasped hands still there, against his collarbones. "I'll keep you informed," he promises. "And I'll be careful. And once we've learned what we need to, we'll find a spot."

EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)