A Whip and Chains
Log Info
- Title: A Whip and Chains
- Emitter: Delilah
- Characters: Delilah, Donna, Ashes, Elyanna, Merek
- Place: In the Grey Halls
- Time: Thursday, March 18, 2021, 2:51 PM
- Summary: Everyone is pulled deeper into Bethany's torment. Delilah shoots her, and Bethany's bullet ridden corpse continues to scream her hatred of Delilah, while statuesque masked figures observe and egg her on. Delilah is stripped, chains attach to her manacles, and Bethany prepares to flay her, while Donna and Elyanna attempt to restrain her, Merek rushes at the statues, and Ashes works to reassert control, and free the passions of life from Bethany. It seems there will be no deterring the murdered woman, who cries that she doesn't understand why she hates Delilah so much, but is going to punish her. There is another force at work, but they are unable to directly challenge it. Ash finally understands Bethany will have to work her own way through it, tells Bethany and the others she must be free too choose, and that they should all apologize for any remaining wrong they have done her in the hopes this will help. They do so. It doesn't seem to, and Bethany lashes Delilah to the growing excitement of the onlookers. As this builds, her anger breaks, as does the hold on her. Bethany breaks down, explains to Delilah how she fell in love with her, arranged to lose to meet her again, but then was ambushed by a look alike, assaulted with a powder and awoke with a hatred that stayed with her until her murder. Her sister's husband was the one who recommended she take Delilah to court. Bethany hugs and apologizes to Delilah, and the nightmare torment receeds, replaced with a tranquil environment typical of the Grey Halls.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Donna 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A black-haired human girl in black robes. Delilah 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A golden haired human girl in white robes. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face Elyanna 5'11" 153 Lb Half-Orc Female A grim, Arvek-blooded woman in raven feathers. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lady Bethany Alenthor Human Female An noble murder victim, deceased -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GMs -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Delilah 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A golden haired human girl in white robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Bethany recoils as if struck, and flattens herself against the wall behind her, almost stumbling into the smokey darkness. "Who... who?!" she gasps. "Never met... don't know... I HAVE NOTHING!" She screams; a plaintive, terrified sound. "I am nothing! I did nothing! I mean nothing! I *have* nothing!" She sucks in a breath, and turns to face the other travellers. "But... but you!" she gasps, pointing at Delilah. "I rememb--"
The gun in Delilah's hand snaps up, levelled at Bethany. "What the--??" gasps the sorceress, even as the gun fires.
>BANG< the bullet rips into Bethany's chest, blowing clean through the other side and leaving a little cloud of red mist on either side of her.
>BANG< almost immediately, another shot rings out, blasting a hole in Bethany's shoulder.
"But I'm not--" >BANG< a third bullet leaves a grizly hole in Bethany's sternum, against the golden sorceress' wide-eyed protests.
>BANG< a hole appears where Bethany's right eye used to be; Delilah grabs the gun with her free hand, trying to wrestle it out of her grip.
>BANG< the bullet rips along the side of Bethany's face, tearing away her cheek and leaving teeth exposed. "STOP!" screams Delilah, "STOP STOP!!"
>BANG< a bullet shatters Bethany's skull, cleaving chunks away on the side and leaving her brain exposed.
>BANG< A bullet hits the noblewoman in the elbow, severing her arm beneath that point and leaving the forearm on the ground, with fingers twitching.
"STOP!" screams Delilah, her voice rising to a pitched squeal, "I din't do this I DIDN'T DO THIS! I didn't!!"
>BANG< the bullet catches Bethany in the neck and she finally falls over backwards, landing with a wet sound on her back; and the pistol finally tumbles from Delilah's grasp, as the sorceress staggers backwards and collapses to her knees.
"But you wanted to," gurgles Bethany. "And maybe I wanted you to."
The first report spins Elyanna on her heel, reaching to her hip where in corporeal climes, Maidenhead rests, but the surreality, something in the ominous inexorability of the tableau seems to halt her en pose, unable to intercede until the final exchange.
As she is again free to act in the aftermath, the Keeper looks to the target, then the victim as her empty hand lowers to her side. Her other hand extends for Delilah's shoulder, "Hold easy, now, Delilah." she says in a calm tone, "Urge is not action." She looks over her shoulder to Ashes, a quick sweep for extra oles, perhaps, a brow arches, then back to both sisters, now.
Like Elyanna, Donna spins around at the first report, and can't but flinch at every shot to follow. But the brawler sees the horror in her dark twin's eyes, and takes her shrieking denials at face value. Because they're the truth; Delilah *didn't* kill Bethany, even if she may have wanted to, because that is not what the twins *do.*
"This ain't even urge, Elyanna," Donna murmurs, carefully reaching up to push her sister's arm down. Whether she can or not, it's a test of her ability to effect this nightmare. That she responds to Delilah, suggests it a possibility.
You know, one would not think it, but Merek seems to be extremely bothered about it all, "Please, stop." With each of the shots fired right into the woman, he will begin to try and pull her back away, oh does he still have a hand? Interesting. Anyway, he will try to keep her away from the gunfire, if he can even manage to place a hand upon the woman. For all of that they were preparing for, he still can't really stand to watch anyone else be killed like that. "Please stop imagining that! This is supposed to be the place of peace, is that what you go through!?" he asks to Bethany, and by extension anything else listening.
Ash flinches, just a little, everytime the dragonspitter goes off. She's not achieved a tranquility that will go undisturbed with that happening so close. She watches as the wounds appear in Bethany.
The ones she recognizes. The ones she doesn't. Bullet holes which should have been Magic Missile impacts. The injuries do not shock her, in war, in her efforts as a Mourner, she's seen a lot of death. It's no surprise to encounter it here in the Halls of the Grey Lady. It's only a little unsettling she keeps moving with them. It's to be expected.
There is a reassuring glance towards Elyanna, then the ashen Arvec follows Bethany down to her knees, a hand on her shoulder. An anchor. She's a shade beside the other woman, faintly glowing from within, corporeal and not.
"It's what she's going through," Ash says in monotone, staring at the other woman's face. Then, something unexpected, a softness in her voice, concern, expression that is rare for the Mourner, with a chiding tone in it. "Bethany... you are being dramatic. You have to let go. Forgive yourself."
Delilah's arm is like rock, and even Donna with her vastly superior strength finds it like trying to bend a statue, until Delilah drops the firearm and she returns to her more normal, more plaiable state. "What just happend?!" she gasps, sagging backwards against Donna. "I didn't... I never *wanted* that, I never had that urge, I only threatened you to protect Donna!"
"LIAR!" screams Bethany, wether in response to Ashes or Delilah not being entirely clear. Or, perhaps to both. Merek's touch doesn't move her an inch; throughout the ordeal, she's every bit as unmoveable as Delilah was. The noblewoman spits out a mouthful of blood, and reaches across herself, taking hold of her severed arm and holding it up to the ragged end of her elbow, where it doesn't so much heal as just... attach. "Forgive myself? Dramatic?!" She sits up slowly, and brushes a tear away from under her remaining eye. "What should I forgive myself for? I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. I did nothing. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing."
As she speaks she rolls over, and crawls on all fours away from Merek and Ashes, until she reaches Delilah; she puts one hand on the front of her robes, and scoops up the pistol with her other hand as she rises, pulling herself up to stand in front of the golden haired twin.
"But, you," she hisses, pushing two bloodied fingers into Delilah's mouth and pulling her jaw downwards. "You... you *HURT ME*." As she snarls the last couple of words, she pushes the muzzle of the draonspitter past the wide-eyed Delilah's teeth, and up against the back of her throat. "YOU DID THIS TO ME."
Well, one can't fight the dead. It's difficult, you can't kill them, and anything that might would not be kind to a soul. With that, Merek does lift his brow at the talk about her being dramatic. "I mean... She is dead, the ultimate price we all must pay. I'd be dramatic too. I probably..." He then takes a look to Bethany while she begins going after Delilah.
The man seems to watch while he places both hands to his hips, taking the time to think about it, "Bethany. She was not the one that did it, people were hired to make it look like she did. You were set up. By Norrington. Ashlee can tell you more," he notes. The man looks along the place, where all spirits are. He can't save any of them, what was it like when he was within that place before. "Is this what we're left as, as Petitioners? I always thought it would be different. An indifferent peaceful life while we wait."
The Keeper straightens and sighs, turning her eyes first to Donna, "-This-, yes..." with a gesture back to the ravaged noblewoman, then, more softly, "If there was a grudge, a whisper anywhere in your mind. That was all it was, an urge, however lingering or fleeting, as long as it never became action."
Elyanna eyes the mystics, Seer and Mourner both, for their reactions. Like Ashes, she has a closer relationship with death, and murder, than most, though she more for the deed than the dead. Misery aplenty. She wonders what, by what little personal experience she had on their brief meeting a year ago, could possibly so encourage Lady Alenthor's self-flagellations to this magnitude....
A look to Delilah, considered....then back to Bethany.... a yearning for punishment by a -specific- hand.
Orrrr....?
Somewhat flummoxed by the sudden flip and surge of motion by the ragged noble, it's as Lady Alenthor gets into place to check Delilah for a sore throat that the von Diesel is reaching to try and block the hammer, with a firm, "Enough! This is unbecoming one of your station, Lady Alenthor."
She tries to lock eyes with her Peer, tone softening less thiding than gently imporing, "Please, stay your hand. Forces are aligned against you both, and we need to disperse them to grant you your peace."
Ashes rises, stands, about to say something, then hesitating. This is the Grey Halls, there are no weapons. The dead can't hurt the living. They exist in their own Torment, but can't draw others in. Something is out of wack, and the Mourner is unsure...
Bethany just might be able to kill Delilah, now that she's here.
"It's what we make for ourselves, Merek. What we bring along." She follows behind Bethany, comes around beside her, nodding to Elyanna as she interposes and appeals in a different way. Ashes gives a moment for her friends words to work through, then there are questions to answer.
"You died, Bethany. Forgive yourself for dying." The Mourner's words are soft, but firm. She's spoken with many ghosts. Death is often a shock, often painful, hard to accept. It's her calling to be patient, to listen, until it is embraced. "Bethany. We're here to help. Delilah didn't kill you. Whatever she did doesn't matter. Your life is finished. No life ends neatly. Hatred, revenge, these are things of the living that are holding you back."
"Tell us, all that you feel, all that you remember, so it doesn't burden you anymore."
"Whoa whoa WHOA!" As Elyanna tries to physically stop the gun from firing, and Ash implores the spirit to understand its reality, Donna grabs Delilah by the shoulders, planting a foot on Bethany's gore-streaked knee for the leverage to physically force the two apart, hoping against hope that it works. "Dammit, Bethany... What *is* all this?! You can't be this pissed off just cos you didn't *win!*"
>CLICK<
Bethany pulls the trigger just as Elyanna's finger blocks the hammer, halting it just before the weapon can discharge. Delilah jumps at the sound, and sags back against her sister. She whines in terror, and a tear rolls down each cheek.
"Didn't win," Bethany repeats. "Didn't win. Didn't win. Beaten by some common whore. Didn't win." She slowly withdraws the pistol from Delilah's mouth, and then darts forwards, licking a bloodied tongue over one cheek to taste the tear.
"Lady Alenthor? Unbecoming? Not anymore. Now I am Nothing. I was always Nothing. Nothing has changed because Nothing hasn't changed." She squints at the golden sorceress, "Why do I hate you so much? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. WHY DO I WANT TO RIP YOU IN HALF?!" She siezes Delilah's shoulders and thrashes her about as she screams.
As Bethany rages, the world changes; the yawning darkness from the alleyway expands to wash over all, leaving a banquet hall of dark stone in its wake, albeit devoid of furniture. The walls deform, and pale white figures drop down out of it; clad in black masks, they otherwise look like chiselled marble statues come to life, and form a throng around the group. "Torture her," they whisper. "Torture her. Torture her. Torture her." One of them walks up behind Bethany, and takes the pistol from her hand. "Torture her," she whispers, as she presses a lash into her hands; a lash with writhing tentacles in place of leather. "Torture her."
In the back, the orcish woman in the white robes stands near a grand staircase; she holds a glass of red wine in hand, calmly watching as though nothing were going on.
From above, a pair of chains grow from the ceiling, descending down with manacles on the ends. "Torture her," whisper the crowd. "Torture her. Torture her."
"I hate you," Bethany snarls, before she looks sideways at Ashes. "Why. Why do I hate her." She looks back to Delilah, and lifts the lash, "Tell me why. TELL ME WHY."
"Okay," Donna says, as the room begins to warp and change, and enablers descend from on high to make Delilah's existence an unliving hell.
"'Bout fuckin' done here."
Releasing Delilah, she slips around to look her terrified sister in the eyes. "D... I ain't gonna ask if you trust me." With that, the brawler turns and pulls Bethany into a hug. Heedless of the gore, or the lash in the dead girl's hand, she simply turns, spirit in arms, presenting her back to the malicious statues. "ASH! You said we ain't supposed to bring anything in with us! *So what did Bethany bring?!*"
With that -- to her mind -- critical question asked, she pulls the girl's head down against her shoulder. "Easy... Take it easy. I gotchu, Bethany. I gotchu."
"You have to answer, Delilah." Mourner Ashlee Ciaradh says, willing her role to protect her, focusing on what she is. This is deepening into the 'not normal' cateogry. The dead can't always let go of their frustrations with the living. This usually results in a revenant, a ghost, a haunt, some form of undead powered by the hate-filled emotions. It doesn't cause a personal torment, not like this.
Personal Torment is supposed to be, well, personal. Bethany shouldn't have been able to draw them in like she has, there shouldn't be others, whispering, watching. There shouldn't be chains. Those might be manifestations of her fractured mind, but the Torment should have run its course.
Ashlee watches at Donna embraces Bethany, the brawler's words making it so clear. "Something followed her, Donna. The hatred isn't yours, Bethany. You have no reasons for it. Let us help."
Elyanna winces as the hammer falls on her finger. Ow! Still, primary objective complete, the Keeper is confounded by the unbalanced shifting of Bethany's mind, and further still by the sudden change in venue. A vision that stills her 'breath' as the Grey Halls start to play Otilla's Song.
Her song...
The lash, more sinister than Maidenhead, and perhaps with a more savage kiss, comes up and the former Keeper moves to interpose herself into it's path, staring into Bethany's eye, "If you do not know, it is not your hate!"
She'll probably get popped for this.
But... no? Donna is taking a very different route than she'd have expected. So, uncertain, she holds her position and glances about to try and keep track of the other figures, any other movement to intercede.
"No one can be nothing. Noble, petty, great or puny, average and overlooked perhaps, but never Nothing."
One thing needs to be kept in mind going in. Can you bring the darkness of the world with you onto the Great Halls? Because Merek for one is seeing that come to life. The man begins to back up to the party, while he watches the oruch woman, before he changes the gaze to the black mask wearing shapes. He then tears that robe along the front, at least to the waist, to tie it about him.
There's a moment while he watches, then he begins to draw up both hands, why is he even trapped in another's nightmares? Well, he chose to come to the place. He will let Ashlee speak with Bethany, she's the one who knows the way to get to the woman. Meanwhile, he speaks, "No, don't torture, don't listen to these... Dark apparitions, born of emotion and quintessence. YOU GET AWAY!" he then exclaims loudly above the din of their askance to torture. He then tries to swing his fist into the closest.
Even muted though his power might be gone he tries to bring about a blast of flame in energy into the creatures that speak.
The alabaster spirits recoil from Merek, but only to go so far; they arrange themselves in a circle around the travellers, standing shoulder to shoulder like a wall, but now they all hold glass goblets filled with red wine -- or perhaps blood? Hard to tell. "Torture her," they all whisper. "Torture her. Torture her. Torture her."
"Does it matter?" Bethany whispers to Donna, in a sudden, brief moment of calm. "I hate her. I *hate* her. Nothing else matters. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Does it really matter why?"
"Donna..." Delilah gulps audibly. "Donna, Elyanna, Merek... it's... it's okay." She walks up to stand under the manacles, and turns to look over her shoulder at Ashes. "I don't... I don't know how to answer her, but maybe I can help her, I... I don't know." She looks at Bethany, and holds up her hands in a helpless shrug. "I don't know what I did to you or what I'm supposed to do, but maybe this is about you, not me." She shrugs off the funeral robe; then she reaches up and snaps first one manacle around her wrist, and then the other, below the ones she brought with her from the land of the living since the day of her execution.
As Bethany seethes and struggles in Donna's arms, and makes a couple of attempts to bite the brawler's ear, Delilah takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. "Let her do what she needs to do," she whispers.
"*No,*" Donna snarls, tightening her grip. "I ain't *gonna,* an' you can't make me."
The bites to the ear cause the brawler to wince, but she pulls her head back to look down at the spirit in her arms. "Bethany. Be--*lissen!* Yeah you pissed me off, an' there was times I wanted t'pop you in your mouth. But you never deserved *this.* Nobody does. An' you don't deserve t'be made to torture anyone."
Loosing a ragged breath, the brawler looks up at the others. "Y'all, takin' hits is what I do. Lemme do this. Y'all figure out what's latched onto her an' bounce it the fuck out this bar."
A wall of bone-white statues, with masks. Black masks. Executioner's masks. Wine, blood, whispers. Whisperers with a single desire. Ashlee touches her throat, Chippen has moved to the top of her head. He whispers too, to Ash, but not now. He can't help.
Things are moving too fast, the Mourner is unbalanced, the Grey Halls are not vigorous. It's ... wrong. Her fingers tighten on the silver branch, back to the beginning, piece it all together.
Something followed Bethany, something that is here, now. A meaning. Why the blood, why the tentacle-whip. What hold does it have on her, and how to break it. Indulging their command, letting Delilah or Donna be flayed, may strengthen them. The sisters still live, and blood is the currency of bargains in the beyond.
"Have you ever tried apologizing?"
Perhaps there's an indirect way to the forgiveness.
Elyanna takes a somewhat different tack as Ashes makes her inquiry. The red woman turns to watch Delilah set herself up for the lashing, an... uncommon visual to be sure, but she turns to the masks. Weighing, considering, then, "What is your name?" to... whom it may concern?
Merek looks to Donna and Delilah, and next to Bethany when it looks like she wants to solve it by letting herself get tortured. The man takes a look to the hobgoblins, then he seems to consider. He begins meditating to keep the peace within, then walks up to one of the creatures, while he places a hand upon it. "You're not welcome in this place. Let them speak," he will try to do what he can to keep the call to torture away while waiting for the party to speak with Bethany.
"I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER!"
Bethany thrashes howling in Donna's grasp, with a growing strength unnatural that threatens to overwhelm the brawler at any moment. She doesn't attack with the lash, but the tentacles writhe of their own accord and sting Donna's skin wherever they find it; a sharp, searing pain that saps strength from muscle.
"Hate her," whisper the masked figures, as they start to walk in unison, each taking a turn to pass behind Bethany and lean up on tip-toe to whisper in her ear.
"You hate her."
"You hate Delilah."
"You want her to die."
"You want Delilah beheaded."
"Delilah hurt you."
"Delilah should hang slowly."
"Delilah doesn't love you."
"Delilah should die for hurting you."
"Delilah should suffer for your pain."
"Delilah should drink poison."
When Elyanna asks her question, two of hte figures turn her way; one of them hisses like a cornered snake, while the other replies, "We are Delilah."
No you're not!" Delilah scream, from where she's chained herself up. "You're not Delilah, *I* am Delilah and I never hurt Bethany! Not ever! I never did anything to her!"
At Merek's suggestion that the beings are unwelcome, they recoil, but soon enough advance again. "Bethany is ours," one of them whispers. "Bethany is ours and we will have Delilah too. It is our purpose for which we were made."
As one, the figures stop moving, and in almost a single motion hold their right hand out to the side; and then each of the figures are holding a lash, too. "Torture her," they whisper, in unison.
It can be hard to keep a hold on someone who very much does not want to be restrained, but the alternative is literally a nightmare. It's difficult to pay attention to the things being said around her, but some words drop more sharply than others, and the anger begins to build in Donna's heart. "No," she says, quietly, then again much louder. "*No.* Fuck that. Ain't neither of them's yours, an' *fuck you* for even thinkin' otherwise."
For a moment she stands there, brow furrowed, clinging on to the thrashing spirit with ever-weakening arms, thinking. "None of this is how it's s'posed to go, right? Then there's magic involved. Ain't almost *anything* more responsibe for world-class bullshit like magic. D... I'm thinkin' Ash is right. She's got a lot to apologize for... but somethin' tells me she ain't heard an apology neither, an' we was both petty bitches about the whole thing, yeh?"
Merek seems to consider while he listens to all of the voices speaking, then he nods. "So... Bethany wanted you to love her?" he asks then to Delilah, while he takes a look to Bethany. The man seems to think about it, then he thinks back on little details, "Alright. These things were created with magic, I think we can assume that someone wanted all of them to follow."
The man walks forward while he begins to speak, "You are not welcome. Vardama would not permit Eluna's magic to be abused in such a place, you are unwelcome in the sight of gods and men. You are simply an apparition, the creation of the mind, an imago brought about. Bethany, someone else didn't like you, they set this all up, they wanted both of you away. Think back, what kind of person would want that." The man places a hand upon the mask of one of the creatures, "ENOUGH. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME. In the name of the gods, I require no magic to speak for the name of my goddess. If she isn't to be here, then my words will speak for her." Then he tries to pull the mask away. The man nods to Ashlee, and to everyone else. He knows they can make it through with the power of the word. Meanwhile, he will try to keep back the creatures.
"LIES!" Elyanna roars, "HOLLOW FETTERS!" her words full of certainty and fire as she stares down the masked apparitions who regard her.
The red woman looks to the avatar past them, then to the masks anew, "Bethany Alenthor!" she asides, "Would you be a slave in perdition to these... subcreatures? If this was truly your hate, if these were truly -your- desires, you would not need these shades -ordering- you to hold them!"
It's all falling apart.
There is an old saying, when you commit murder dig two graves. The act consigns two souls. They were supposed to go together, who bound them? How? Bethany will not be cured of this until she's had a chance to work it out of herself, one way or another. That much is obvious to Ashes. What the best way of doing that, isn't.
"We should all apologize."
For this is something that weighs on the Mourner's chest, and has since this whole business started. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to prepare your body. To do your makeup. To sit in silence with your remains in case your spirit is troubled. I let others keep me away. I never knew you in life but I failed my duty in your death. I'm sorry."
She stares, intense with truth, willing the woman to hear. Ashlee turns her head, meets the gaze of each. Merek, attempting to banish the shades; Elyanna facing them back with her own fire, fueled perhaps by demons of her own. This might be a future for her. Delilah, accepting her fate; Donna, fighting against it. Ashlee's expressions are easy to read when her skull shines inside, it's an imploring look. Find something. Something to say that might pull her back.
A final instruction to Bethany, "If you will not release the whip, you must choose. To obey to the voices and doom yourself and Delilah, or block them out and chase them off. You have to do this yourself."
Delilah squirms where she's standing, chained and vulnerable, and draws a deep breath. "Donna," she gasps, "Donna, please, let Bethany go. I... I'll be fine. I'll be *fine*. And I think she'll be fine." The sorceress looks over her sister's shoulder at the bullet-riddled Bethany, and inclines her chin. "Do what you have to do," she offers, "But... but Bethany, *I'm* sorry. I'm sorry for threatening you and I'm sorry for beating you so badly at cards, and I'm sorry for hounding you about the money, and I'm sorry for humiliating you... I'm sorry for everything, Bethany. I'm sorry."
Merek seems to be intent to keep fighting the spirits, until Ashlee speaks, then he nods a bit. The man begins to back up from the fight, "You know, even Bethany could take care of you all. Some mage thinks that he can meddle in affairs of the gods." The man then will snap his fingers, before he begins to spin upon his foot to speak to Bethany.
"I apologize, that I failed you in the trial. I wasn't able to find your real killer, to save either of you, instead it all came to this. You love Delilah, don't you? I think there's more to this than you've said. Let Delilah know the way you really feel."
The man steps forward while he places a comforting hand upon one of her shoulders. "Bethany, do not let the creatures control what you think. This is the only time you'll get to say what you really need to. I apologize that I couldn't do a lot more for you in many ways."
With some certitude that the shades will not act directly, Elyanna turns and steps toward the deceased, "We met once, my lady, though I expect you may not remember. A year, ago. You had come to confront the sisters. While you were wroth with assorted interlopers, you had answered me with respect."
The Keeper takes a knee, "I had let the volume of my sins stay my hand. I could have offered to arbitrate the dispute."
Her other knee settles beside it's twin, "I could have advised one side... or the other to a better course, but I was remiss."
A hand settles on each and the red woman bows her head nearly to the floor, "I am sorry."
Finally convinced by Ash's advice, Donna looses a long breath, and lets go. One hand is placed on the opposite shoulder Merek has his hand on, and the brawler leans in close. "We *were* petty bitches about it," Donna says quietly. "An' it doesn't even matter whose fault that was, even though it was probably ours. We coulda been friends, Bethany... an' something tells me you really, really needed a friend. But bein' petty bitches got you killed, one way or another... And we'll never know. I'm sorry, Bethany. You didn't deserve to die, an' you *way* didn't deserve this."
As Bethany is released, she descends on Delilah almost instantly, raising the lash and bring it down hard on the golden twin's shoulders, cutting deep wounds and releasing a red mist into the air. She raises her hand to strike again as Delilah squeals and twists in the chains; twice, and thrice she strikes, but as she raises her hand again she falters.
"...Delilah?" she whispers, as her own wounds close up. The bullet holes shrink, her cheek reforms, and her skull closes around her brain. "Delilah, I--"
"HATE!" scream the masked creatures in unison. "HATE HER! HATE HER!" Together the charge inwards, striking aggressively with their own lashes and laying them into the screaming sorceress.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" shouts Bethany, and she turns, raising her own lash and turning it against the creatures. "No! NO! Don't hurt her! Don't hurt her any more!!" The lash falls, and each time she strikes one of the beings they collapse backwards, turning to a burn, demonic visage before shattering on the floor.
At last, only Bethany remains. The lash tumbles from her grip and lies writhing on the floor, while the noblewoman turns back to Delilah.
"I'm sorry," she gasps, as she drops to her knees, throws her arms around the sorceress' waist, and burries her face against her stomach. "I'm sorry Delilah, I'm so sorry, for everything."
Merek looks to where each one of them shatters, after watching that lashing. The man doesn't seem to be reacting to it all, in the sense that he knows this needs to play out the way it is. Once all of that is finished, he will take a moment to sweep his bare foot beneath that robe onto the shattered remains of the creatures. The hand which was on Bethany's shoulder, comes to place one upon Donna's, if she permits. "I think things will be alright."
Then he nods, "I wonder who would use a spell like that, upon the dead. It is... Well, we can solve that another time." He watches the oruch woman, then he scratches at his cheek, "... Ashlee, I don't know that this will be the end of things. I am going to look around, to make sure that whoever did it left no other magic," he then walks away to check, he knows Ashlee is more then capable. He nods a bit to Elyanna while he walks by, he offers a little smile to Delilah.
Elyanna rises as the Music plays, though with the lashes flying so turmultuously, she is uncertain where to lunge first.
Suddenly, Bethany is handling business, and it seems the Harrowers are gone in her wake. A moment, two, of thought, and she says, "This may have been at play, before. What we had heard about Bethany's behaviour was inconsistent with what I had seen, prior." in a low volume. There is a look toward their Hostess, speculative and uncertain, before she turns to examine the fallen instrument writhing on the floor.
It takes everything within Donna not to punch Bethany out of the way when the lash starts moving and the blood starts flying, but the brawler manages to stand her ground... Just barely long enough for Bethany to solve the crisis. About to sink to her knees, she is grateful for the distraction of Merek's words, and answers them with a half-smile. "Yeah... Probably will. Only..."
Nodding slowly at Elyanna's musing, Donna purses her lips for a moment. "Hey, Bethany... are you thinking okay, right now? Like... I know it's gonna be hard, but... D'you know how this started? Like, this hate that got put on you?"
Mourner Ashlee Ciaradh watches as it unfolds, despair building as it seems Bethany gives in. And then hope, as the masked creatures push too hard, and the good that remains in Bethany finds a footing, and fights back. Ashlee stares as each entity is flayed out of existence, focusing on the fading demonic visage. The noblewoman's embrace of her foe, her apology, herald a lightening of her soul. She's worked it out, she can be at peace.
The Mourner feels her own spirits rising also. She needed to make that apology. She's satisfied all that she cares about. Some questions do remain. Which Donna is voicing. The best person to ask, and get an answer.
"Don't wander far, Merek. We came together, we have to leave together."
Ashlee joins her hobkin friend in staring at the writhing weapon. It shouldn't be here. It's the source of this, tied to it, somehow. She murmurs, "Where did you come from. Who made you."
The ashen Arvec kneels, "Feiu of the Tears, keep me in your grace so I may expell this from your halls." Chippen circles warily on her head. Trusting in her goddess, Ashee picks up the lash.
As Delilah bleeds, she finally relaxes, sagging in the chains that still hold her wrists. Bethany closes her eyes and her shoulders shake as she sobs, and thus it takes a few minutes before she dries her eyes and stands; her arms wrap around Delilah's back and she hugs the sorceress, resting her head on the other woman's chest briefly, before turning to face Donna. "I..." She swallows.
"Do you remember, once, you and your sister... stole some noble woman's laundry, so you could sneak into a party? You got arrested and spent a night in jail, as I recall, but... but it was my laundry, and it was the first time I saw you two, and..." She turns to face Delilah once more, and brushes her fingers over the sorceress' cheek. "And I... stayed awake at night for weeks afterwards, thinking about your sister. About Delilah. I..." She looks at Delilah, biting her bottom lip. "I needed you," she mumbles, as her cheeks turn red. "I wanted you. Badly. But you're an adventurer and I was a noblewoman, expected to marry a noble, and fairly soon. So."
Bethany shrugs her shoulders lightly. "I thought it would go away, but it didn't, and... and I wanted to give you something, but I know how adventurers are about nobles, and I thought you'd be too proud to accept anything from me, so... I... let you beat me at cards." She lifts a hand to brush a tear away from her cheek. "That round, when I folded, after you went all in? I had the straight flush, Delilah, I would've beaten you, but I *wanted* you to have it. And, I played with markers that night, because I wanted you to come see me to get the money."
By this point, Delilah has stopped squirming in the chains nd gone quiet, listening to Bethany with rapt attention and a tear welling up in each of her own eyes. "And you came that night, which was early," Bethany continues, "And I was so excited, but... but it wasn't you. It looked like you, but it wasn't, and I knew it because they didn't act like you, and they didn't... quite get the voice right. They.. did... something to me." She sucks in a breath. "They blew powder in my face and I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I hated you. I couldn't understand it but, but I couldn't help it. I wanted you to hurt so badly and I couldn't stop wanting it, not even after I died."
Walking around the room, Merek will find no further trace of corruption; even the orcish woman from before is gone again, now. It's just the twins, two arvek, Merek, and Bethany.
The lash writhes and thrashes briefly when Ashes picks it up, and it feels... wrong, to the touch, like holding something that *wants* to cause pain, and wants to cause it to Ashes, and to everyone and everything that Ashes has ever cared about. But for the moment, it behaves.
Elyanna is dubious about the lash, but, she grows openly worried as Ashes invokes the Fieu's protection to take it up into her hands. "Careful, it could take you over...!" the Keeper warns, a hand settling on her shoulder. There's a part of her that spurs her to offer to take charge of the instrument, that she is better equipped, already too stained to be marred by such a thing, but another, perhaps thinks that folly, and wins out.<Goblin-talk>
The confessions of the fallen noble touch her trained ears and give a subtle list of her head. She asks Ashes, "How do you feel?" in the common tongue, now that all are apprised of the situation, then her eyes turn to Bethany, "My Lady... do you remember when that was?" she asks politely.
While there is a quiet besides the talking of the two women, and anyone else, all the creatures speaking taken care of, Merek then looks to everyone, and walks back to the place they all are. "Well, there's nothing else in the place, whatever it was," the man looks to the whip, "Was all in that, it looks like." He nods a bit to Ashlee. He does take a look to Bethany in thought, he figured, something said in all the words from the creatures, that there was a truth within, something that needed to be shared.
With that, he does then nod to everyone else, "This plot has taken up more than I ever thought it would. Norrington is only a piece in the puzzle. I wonder who would be crazy enough, to go this far." The man looks to Elyanna, and nods a bit to the woman. Perhaps, likely in a way, he feels for those that come to this place. Even Kol. The man thinks about it, "That lash, you should take it with us, I think we should be able to discern knowledge from it. If you don't think that's safe, then... Might be better to take care of that now." He does then offer a snap of the fingers, "Anyway. You will need to guide her to the next step, after what we learn... I think she will need a guide."
"...Well ain't that some--" Trailing off, Donna sighs, shaking her head and giving her sister a wry, jaundiced look. "You got my leave to thump me if I ever make a crack about you bein' too cute for your own good again, D."
As the others debate what to do about the Lash, Donna just looks... exhausted. Partly for the day's exertions, but mostly in anticipation of the road ahead. But at least, now, she can take a step with a small kindness. "Hey... Bethany?" she says, managing half a smile. "Iunno if it helps... But I meant what I said. Woulda been nice t'just be your friend, y'know? Also..." Stepping away from the two, Donna starts tugging at the chains around her sister. "...You get trussed *way* too often, y'know that?"
Ashlee jerks her head back. The muscles in her neck clench. Her lips are tight. Her breath, very slow, forced. Her hand tightens on the haft. She's very aware of where Chippen is. Elyanna. Merek. Just a raised hand, a step, another step. It's fortunate that she doesn't feel strong emotions, most of the time. Very fortunate that most of the people and things she's cared about are dead and their remains.
"I'm ok." Her words are monotone. Her muscles relaxing.
Bethany's confession is nearly lost in her distraction, but the words are heard. Love, desire. She mulls it over. Not the usual avenue for attack. Her words are quiet, "Let them have their time. She has to give up this, too."
It burns in her hand. It's cold. It itches. Ashes feels a sensation trying to spread up her arm. The lash is not alive, it's not a trapping of life. It isn't alive or from where they came, but it feels alive. "I'll take it out. It may vanish when I do."
She lets her thoughts chase around, blinks slowly. Chippen spirals down her face and back around her throat. Ashes asks quietly, "Bethany, did you tell anyone about your feelings? When you were waiting for Delilah to come for her marker, who else knew? Who told you to take her to court, or to go out in the alley?"
The Mourner feels selfish for voicing the words. She searches Elyanna's face. Seeking something... with no idea what that is.
"I think someone is trying to tell her something." Elyanna remarks with a glance to Donna on her remark.
Her attention returns to Ashes as she moves under her touch and she tries to meet her gaze, trying to see if she can see what's going on in there, though there is more than a little going on in her own skull. This was not a happy portent of things to come. She glances down at the lash and, almost monotone, suggests, "Carry it coiled or you'll trip." <goblin-talk>
"Yeah..." Delilah shrugs her shoulders once, rattling the chains a bit above her head. "Yeah, I do, but... if it's with someone that I like, then it's fun." In spite of the wounds criss-crossing her body, and the awkward position, she's finally relaxed. "Bethany, you..." She sighs softly, and shakes her head. "You should've just said, y'know? Because you're gorgeous, and before everything went... the way it went, honestly? I thought you were worth scampering off with, too, and.... and I guess I should'a just said, but I thought you'd be too proud to crawl into bed with an adventurer, being a noble and all." She sighs softly, and shakes her head. "We both should've said."
"Yeah," Bethany replies, "We should've." She looks over her shoulder, "I told my sister, but she'd never hurt me," she replies. "And... it's not like she knows magic, anyway. But... it was her husband who told me to take her to court." She pauses, and bites her bottom lip. "I... don't remember why I went out in the alley," she confesses. "It's a blur. I just... I was out there, and the same person who looked like Delilah was there, and she killed me. I..."
She trails off, and her shoulders slump as she looks defeated once more. Just as it looks like she's about to interfere, Delilah clears her throat.
"Hey, Bethany... kiss me?" she asks.
And Bethany does, wrapping her arms around the sorceress and pressing lips together. The wounds on Delilah's body fade away as the two women close their eyes and breath into each other; the chains holding Delilahs wrists break and she throws her arms around Bethany's shoulders in turn. The banquet hall melts away as well, giving way to a grassy, sunlit forest of grey leaves, with travellers and noblewoman standing hip-deep in a pleasant hotspring.
Merek seems to watch as the whole scenery changes, then he nods a bit to Ashlee. The man watches the two in thought, while he scratches along his cheek, "I think making the peace with the fact of the matter is letting go in a way," he notes. The man motions a bit to everything changing. "Well, we can look into that when we get back, I don't think that's a thing we need to give a lot of thought now. We know that, we can probably take it from that point."
The man walks along with a little shift of the hip to look into the distance. He seems to be introspective, thinking to himself what this place was like. What were his trials the times that he was killed before? What can he even say about it all. He knew exactly the way Bethany felt, that made it a little bit easier to really know what the issue was. Well, while they all plan around all of that, he thinks.
The man finds a solace in walking a little bit away from the party, and watching over the spring, freeing his mind of things. His fingers draw along the stubble of his features.
The Mourner stands still, holding the lash. She nods slowly at the advice. She would have to touch it more to coil it. She doesn't want to. She holds the still writhing cat-o-three-tentacles away from her body. It will have to drag as much as it does.
The change of venue to sunlit forest, grey leaves, is welcome. Much better. Much more like how things should be. Warm water replaces cold in her robe. It still clings to her legs. More comfortable now. Trickling sensations, she enjoys those. This is the stillness of death she strives to embrace. She inhales to hold it, keep it with her when they move back beyond.
There's one more thing the Mourner can do that may help Bethany let go. "Do you have any messages for your family?"
Clapping her hands together, Donna starts to lead the Hobkin away from the two, but pauses upon hearing Ash's question. "...Shit that's kinda important, yeah..."
Subsiding, she turns her back to her sister, mulling over what this could mean, and in whose hands to get the information to put it to best use.
The hobkin moves with some small reluctance at first as Donna, surprisingly, starts to guide her off, and this brings some mostly veiled puzzlement to her eyes, but turns back to the conciliation as she abates.
Elyanna is still a little in her own head, but there are glances from the intertwined women, to the Seer, to the Mourner.
===========================> GAME: Announcements <============================ Message: 1/27 Posted Author Solar Flare Fri Mar 19 Whirlpool ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Delilah has long been a helpful player to staff, and has stepped up as of late in both assisting with our impending conversion as well as in running a long standing plot of excellence. We have offered her a staff position as a result and she has accepted. Welcome aboard! ==============================================================================