ℬ𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓁𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ℳ𝑜𝒹𝓈 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bellelurette2025-03-16 01:25 am
lesmodsalouette) wrote in bellelurette2025-03-16 01:25 am
First Execution
Execution
Ish, your local Witch of Ruin, promised a conclusion to his carnival. So it should come as no surprise that when the clocks strike noon on Sunday, you find yourself magically transported into the Promenade of Reflexion. The hall has been perfectly restored, the glass prismatic and shining, as it was before death befell you. There is only one addition you will find specially for today: a beautiful row of ornamental chairs on the right side of the long hallway. With their handstitched hyperealistic animal patterns, they seem a little too fancy to be meant for actual use, but don't let that stop you from sitting comfortably.
But whether or not you decide to sit or stand, you'll all soon make the same observation. All mirrors, regardless of their position in the room, are reflecting two individuals perfectly. A reflection not of here, but of a grassy field somewhere. The first figure is Chu Wenshan and the second figure is too blurry to make out, though it grows clearer by the second.
Any attempt to leave the Hall or to try to enter the mirrors themselves is fruitless; you are mere observers to this battle to the death. Strangely, the Witch you've come to hate isn't seated with you. Instead, dark and purple snakes encircle the perimeter in his stead.
(( OOC: Welcome to your Execution! The comment section is split into two parts. The actual execution subheader is solely for the executioner and culprit, while the audience subheader is for all your reaction needs as that thread unfolds! ))
no subject
His fist connected. Usually, something gives when that happens—there's a crack from something, or someone goes sailing through the air. Neither happens, and maybe that should be disconcerting, too—much like the tiles transmogrifying under him, hard floor giving way to rich soil and verdant grass.
Honestly, though? He expected it. The strength emanating from this person isn't exactly subtle, neither are their displays of power.
The waters swallow him and, like before, he holds his breath and follows their sway. Once again, the intent doesn't feel like it's to kill—only to realign him according to Hwylryn's whims. It isn't long before he pops back up, and though there's a tingle inside him that something doesn't feel right, he doesn't focus on it for very long. Maybe it'll take more time for altitude sickness to settle in, or maybe he's already healing.
Either way, he lands on the small island—and barely touches down for half a second before he jolts forward again, his fist aimed at the exact same spot. ]
no subject
Hwylryn pivots on his heel in mid-air to let the punch graze him this time around, and the vacuum it creates is an uncommon sort of beauty - a rainless path ahead of Chu Wenshan's fist, the ocean splitting, and in that space, a striking silence - before the briny waters crash around him once more.
This time, it does not swallow the island so much as it floods it, the torrents buffeting him - a death by a thousand paper cuts, the violence straining against his muscles and bones. It's force that might shred a human or ship, but he isn't surprised it doesn't do Chu Wenshan in.
The exchange continues for a time.
Hwylryn's manipulation of the water and the wind above it lends itself easily to theatrics: whirlpools and gales; sudden downpours and disorienting drizzles; twisting tsunamis; and other tricks involving flight. And every time, he finds that Chu Wenshan seeks out footing and strikes the same spot - aimed for Hwylryn's temple - with his fist. In some cases, it seems Chu Wenshan has gotten an honest, clean hit on Hwylryn - in others, it seems like he's simply accepting the hit, like Hwylryn wants to see where he's going with it.
But, with patience, he seems to understand. And though Hwylryn was having a little bit of fun before, he isn't particularly keen on a battle of attrition against an opponent who could be doing more.
This time around, after landing a strike on Hwylryn, Chu Wenshan finds himself taken in by the ocean's embrace. There's no land around him - he's simply floating on his back, a thin sheet of water around his torso, holding him in the water (though, it doesn't prevent him from using his arms, or wresting free from the water's grip).
Hwylryn lands on Chu Wenshan's chest, barely the weight of a feather, as he gazes down at him. )
Why aren't you using your sword?
( If he applies a little bit more weight, he probably could force Chu Wenshan to drown. It makes the question feel a little bit sharp, even though his tone is kind. )
no subject
Hwylryn isn't masking his intent, so Chu Wenshan sees no reason to mask his, either.
Besides, a battle of attrition is something he can do, particularly against an opponent that doesn't seek to actively harm him. The waves bite at him, sometimes even cutting at his skin from the intense pressure, but it feels incidental. It's never a vital spot, never so deep that it wouldn't heal afterward, and never prohibits him from leaping forward again.
The cycle continues, until it suddenly doesn't.
When the currents take him, he can feel the difference in intention—and in the pressure of the water around him.
Hwylryn lands and Chu Wenshan crosses his arms, peering up with that perpetually blank expression.
Why. He'd been asked a shade of that same question at trial, he's pretty sure. His profile lists him as a swordsman, but he wasn't using a sword.
There's a long, lingering silence—but this time he eventually answers. ]
A sword is for protecting others.
no subject
Hwylryn crouches down, peering down at him. Chu Wenshan can try to punch him right now if he really wants, but, for the first time, he'd find a wall of water blocking his fist. )
... And yourself?
( His tone takes on a familiar, melancholic tone. The low rumble of thunder resounds. )
Who can you protect if you don't protect yourself, first?
( He exhales quiet, the cool air refreshing, but not reassuring. )
Come on. Don't you have anyone to return home to?
no subject
He understands the logic, though. To protect someone, you need to protect yourself. However, the people he cares about are safe. It'll be troublesome for Mr. Ou, but he's sure the doctor will find his brother. He's more than capable enough. Besides, if it's him, he'll think of a clever way to save him, too, one that relies on strategy than on brute strength.
And, really, that's all he can ever offer. Stupid, brute strength. Even his attempts to cover up were pretty confusing, because he didn't know what he was doing.
So it's fine. ]
You said something like that before, too. [ About someone missing even him.
Just as he wasn't sure then, he isn't sure now—would they? He has a terrible, nagging feeling that... they wouldn't.
His hand recedes slowly, knocking not on Hwylryn's head but his own. ]
...I'm sorry. I'm stupid—I just don't get it. So why don't you stop holding yourself back?
no subject
He has taken more lives than he's lived years in his careless caprice, but to gaze one person in the eye and extinguish the flame of their life is a little bit harder.
He really, selfishly, wanted this to be easier for himself. )
... All right.
( He stands, Chu Wenshan sinking slightly with Hwy's weight - increased only a little - as he steps off his torso, and begins to sink down. )
I'll take care of you.
( Hwylryn disappears into the water. In the moments after, Chu Wenshan disappears, too.
And that seems to be that, for a moment.
Chu Wenshan finds he isn't drowning, even without holding his breath. He's held carefully by a bubble, sinking deeper and deeper - or maybe it only feels that way, with darkness above and darkness below.
And then there's a startling flash of blue and silver, coming at him faster than is clear.
A streak of white lightning splits out from the waters, the ocean and rain and winds sucked up in its wake, as a ginormous dragon grows clear in the mirrors, Chu Wenshan's scruff caught in its teeth.
As it reaches the apex of its flight, the water gone and leaving green meadows in its wake, the clouds and rains a storm about them, leaving Hwylryn, in his true form, and Chu Wenshan in the eye of the storm, Ish's blissful sun shining down upon them, Hwylryn tosses Chu Wenshan up, as he had earlier, and lets him bask briefly in the sun and breeze, and see the face of his executioner.
And then it snaps Chu Wenshan up in his jaws, and there is an echoing crunch.
The dragon glides in a languid, circular spiral down to the moist meadows below, its body dissolving into cool mist and light, Hwylryn takes on his human form once more, the magic evaporating from him.
And as he lands, he's still chewing quietly, pensively, until he finally swallows. )
no subject
This isn't so bad, especially when he can breathe. Maybe there was something to that playing underwater bit from before, though he has no doubt it'd be more impressive if there was more than grass to see down here.
He wonders...
That idle thought sparks something in him, and his lips start to move under the water as he mouths something. Something he doesn't know if Hwylryn can "hear," not that it matters if he does.
Eventually, the water parts and everything changes. Whatever thoughts trailed through his mind in those idle moments were transient, yet too vast to capture in words.
The last thing he sees before the end is something that glitters silver—and he can't help but wish it was gold instead.
Chu Wenshan is dead. ]